What Music Is"What is music?"What Music Is3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
A young boy asked me that today.
I bent down to his level, so our faces met eye to eye, and, grinning, I responded.
"Why do you care? Out of our world today, why is it you who cares?"
He looked thoughtfully back at me with his eyes, too full of wisdom for his age, and he said, "Because I want to make good music someday."
I liked his answer, so I told him I did. He smiled, seeming honestly pleased that I liked his opinion. He grabbed my hand as I stood up, pleading at me with his eyes, and when I looked into them, I knew he wanted to hear more.
"I will show you the things that proper music make." I said to him. And as I walked along down the street with this child's hand in mine, I thought of how trusting he was being. I didn't know what to make of it, but as he followed along the street with me, I began to point out the things with which proper music was made.
"Music," I said, pausing to think. He looked up at me, as he had noticed my pause because we had stopped walki
No PrincessI watched a story when I was five years-old. I watched the movie that I know by heart and backwards. The story every little girl believes is how life is going to be. The story every little girl acts out in her bedroom, wearing a plastic tiara and her mother's too-big high heals. It's a love story. I would always have my favorite teddy bear be the prince. It ended happily ever after each and every time I played. And I was the happily married princess.No Princess3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Maybe I watched it too many times. I was eight and I thought I was in love. I thought I had found the perfect boy to be my prince. I would see him at school and he would be my happily ever after prince, in my imagination. The girls teased me for thinking so. I called them my step-sisters. They resented me for it, and I was ridiculed more. I stopped saying my romanticised thoughts out loud. I quit pretending I was characters when I was in front of people. It was the easiest thing to do.
By the time I was twelve, I was thinking I was destine
Home For Christmas8:23 PMHome For Christmas3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Ellie waited for him that night. She waited faithfully on the couch by the door. She didn't care that she was in her pajamas, or that her hair was a mess. She didn't care that her makeup was running from the happy tears of anticipation. She didn't mind that the house was messy from the shreds of wrapping paper that were left on the floor, or that it still faintly smelled like turkey.
Her children were asleep upstairs, wrapped warmly within their blankets. They didn't know what she did, and they would awake to the best surprise in the morning. Their father.
She waited patiently, at first; her patience waning away with each passing minute. Her worry growing as she watched the clock move slowly. Her mind drifted. All the happy memories of the evening flooding back to her. The children opening much appreciated gifts, family conversing, music playing. Her mood was drudged and impatient during the festivities. She was happy, but a bit off.
She awoke with a start t
Broken Pieces and Fixed PuzzlesWhen one puzzle piece breaks, the entire picture suffers.Broken Pieces and Fixed Puzzles3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
For instance, if there is a puzzle with the picture of a parakeet, and the beak of the parakeet is half ripped off, the picture suffers. There will be a half-beaked parakeet.
So how are people any different?
There's gotta be a puzzle piece for each and everyone out there. But if your puzzle piece breaks, will you still fit together?
I pondered this as I sat and looked at my beakless parakeet puzzle that I had finished on my kitcen table. It was, total, about five hundred pieces. Only the one piece was deformed, but it took away from the whole bird-viewing experience. Seeing gray cardboard and a bird mesh together kind of ruins the affect.
After about five minutes of staring at my disappointing puzzle, I took it apart and put it into the box from which it came.
It was too silent in my house. No one home except for myself.
I couldn't stop thinking of my puzzle piece theory. How many people have done the wrong thing and left their
Teach Me How To LoveTeach me how to loveTeach Me How To Love3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
What is it?
I wondered as I wandered, stepping from riverstone to riverstone.
What is love?
I traced the heart I had drawn on my wrist as I lept onto another stone, slipping and sliding nearly into the water.
Someone to catch you.
I made a mental note. You have to fall into love, so there must be a need for someone to catch you. Or else you end up like in the river; wet, alone, and crying.
I steadied myself on the rock, measuring the distance to the next with my eyes. It was farther than I could reach, so I lept for a closer one, realizing only after that it made not a single difference in the distance. My sundress grazed the water slightly as I stepped back, jumping for the riverside.
My feet met the cool, moist soil, my toes curling to catch my balance. The dirt stuck to my feet and was an utterly odd feeling after the smooth feeling of the cool and mossy stones.
Different. Someone different.
I mused. No one should be the
9-1-1Nine-one-one, I need your help9-1-13 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
No, I'm not bleeding: on the outside I'm fine
But no one will look between the lines
There's not a knife in my heart
If you're looking for one that's real
There's one of emotion not one of steel.
I'm not drowning in water
But instead in mistakes.
That perfect girl they see? She's all fake.
I tell all my friends the "truth",
But I tell it like a joke or lie
So they have only themselves to blame when I die.
Maybe they'll all stand around
After my funeral, at my grave
Saying they never saw any hints that I gave.
So operator, remember this conversation.
I told someone these things I've been afraid to show.
It's ironic, really, that it's all to someone I don't even know.
The ForgottenStanding silentThe Forgotten3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the midst of chaos
On the unfortunate
Survivors of cruelty
Chosen by none
Forgotten by all
I pick up the pieces
Of broken you
Of broken me
2. Inked Pages About YouHe is beautiful, new, unexplored. His eyes lower to the ground and his lips smack together as he swallows. It’s something he doesn’t notice he does, but I do. His lashes are longer than mine but in a way I’m only jealous of them because they get to frame his lovely dark eyes. I want to make them cry beautiful tears, happy tears, someday.2. Inked Pages About You2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He is beautiful, new, unexplored. His body trembles as much as it does when he’s in the cold, but we’re in a very warm room. I touch his hand and bring it to my chest whispering encouraging things like “I Love You” and “Touch Me” and he stays firmly planted at my shoulder, either too scared or too stubborn to move it further. I kiss that palm and say it’s alright that he doesn’t want to, even when I don’t feel like it is. I put my arms back into shirtsleeves and he stops me from pulling it on again just to look into my eyes and say “I love you.”
FragileHow could something so fragile,Fragile3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As the humble heart of a lover's longing,
Be so easily torn in twain?
Was it his desire to deal in danger,
When he first gazed upon your glance?
How could something so fragile,
As the sweet soul of a valentine's virtue,
Be so tragically annulled once again?
In his honour and humility for you he did hunger,
But never did you care or give into chance.
How could something so fragile,
As the flickering fire of a sweetheart's seduction,
Be so pathetically ruined in the rain?
His amorous advances are all but asunder,
With malice you've split his love with your lance.
Perfect MomentSleep, dream, yawnPerfect Moment3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am the day, I am the dawn
Explore, play, run
I am the grass, I am the sun
Feather, wing, free
I am the sky, I am the sea
Leaf, blossom, trees
I am the bark, I am the breeze
Sound, rhythm, trance
I am the beat, I am the dance
Breath, song, attune
I am the earth, I am the moon
Night, love, fire
I am the fuel, I am desire
Life, exciting, endeavor
I am now, I am forever
I'm a Box of SecretsThere are many different versions of me.I'm a Box of Secrets3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The innocent me
The dark me
The uplifting me
The accepting me
And the friend me
But no one knows, not one person
the real me.
They talk to me and tell me their stories
and their lies, and I hide behind the smile
But no one see's the anger behind my eyes
I hate them. I hate them.
I pretend to tolerate when I just want to scream
All they do is pick and make fun
I hide behind an outgoing girl
When no one knows the person inside
We all have secrets, that no one knows
But my whole life is a secret
that I refuse, to show
The Black RoseIn between such delicate fingertips;The Black Rose3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She holds the blackest of roses,
And the dark petals brush her lips.
Her sombre shadow across her face,
Describes the bleakest of life's loses.
Such sweet scent floating in the air;
She breathes in the aroma of the black rose,
That scarlet stem entwines in her raven hair.
Her enchanting eyes are but a glaze,
Those wells of happiness have all but froze.
Thorns of iron dig into her soft skin;
She screams from the pain of that bloody rose,
With it's intoxication of simplistic sin.
Her haunting presence brings haste,
To a silence of a death nearing close.
The climbHe tied his boat among the rocks, and soon began to climb. Slowly, every so slowly, he went foot by foot, climbing away from shore and onto what should be called land, but really was nothing more than rocks.The climb2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When he tried to look above there was no grass of green. More and more rocks awaited our man, and still he climbed. The sun beat down, and clouds covered the top so our poor man could not see his destination, but still he climbed.
'It appears as though God has taken a day off today,' he thought to himself. And still he climbed up and up, even though the rocks were always coming.
When the stones cut into his palms, and the toes of his shoes wore down till his toes peeked out, and when the sun burned what skin it could, and when the wind cut through his clothes and chilled his bones, he still kept moving forwards. He couldn't see the sea below him, and there was nothing in front of him but clouds.
And still our poor man climbed, and climbed, and climbed.
To reach the top and say that
Love like FingerprintsI am lovedLove like Fingerprints2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
But I'm alone
I have shelter
But I've no home
I must lie
So I can be true
I live in fear
Being brave for you
I want romance
This songs been sung before
I'm a broken window
Next to a one-way door
I am a believer
In love I've won and lost
I'm no messiah
But I live nailed to a cross
I am a moment
Both nothing, and all
Elevated by love
But not surviving the fall
I am unique
But I'm nothing new
Love like fingerprints
Will always be true
I am regret
But I'll taste all that will tempt me
The one promise I'll keep
Is that I'll die empty