Poem for two.You draw a smile across my face, like a child on her first day of school, anxious to impress. You make me happy.Poem for two.2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Your eyes are crystals of perfection, covered in sparkles of delight, born from inspiration that the universe gets from your existence. You are beautiful.
You dress me in happiness, you make my skin glow through the fabric, with the undeniable love I have for your soul. You suit me.
You make my heart beat to the sound of your own; it forms a vibration that the sun, sky, and the entire earth can dance to in their sleep. You make me smile.
You play my skin like a flesh-bound piano, you hit notes of ecstasy with your fingertips, you make a song with your infectious rhythm, you reach a crescendo with your smell. You sound magnificent.
You scratch your passion into my back, you form a trail of lust down my spine, you dig your nails into my flesh, and bleed out all the sorrow from my veins. You do me good.
You take my heart in between you
Tango with ideas the wind speaks ofShatter me into a million crystal hellos,Tango with ideas the wind speaks of2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and a trillion emerald goodbyes.
Reduce me to the echoing of a once whisper,
upon a rustic, willow trunks ear.
Bleed me into a burgundy velvet ocean,
drowning a thousand forevers in its never.
Tread carefully around me,
tiptoe on wishes and desires,
step over long lost intimacies,
tango with ideas the wind speaks of.
Deconstruct me into a flock of incandescent creatures,
hovering over hopes and dreams,
conducting the orchestra of sensation,
tuning the instruments of our melody.
Hear me in the deepest of silences,
amplify me with infinite wishes,
made upon a billion white specks,
painted on a navy silk fabric speaker.
Call my name out into vastness,
feel my presence unfold into layers, of ephemeral pleasures,
attempt to hold me in your hands as I slip through your fingers,
leaving drops of myself behind, screaming for a taste.
Cut me into a dozen miniature regrets,
sprinkle amnesia lightly across me,
serve me on a silver platter of eternity,
AnorexiaSuch a frail being I am, witness my ribs bulge through my skin, I must prevent all the fattening meals or I shall become a massive sin.Anorexia2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Gluttony is my tormentor, from it I run afar, to distant lands of emptiness, lands of thinness, lands of star.
Without meals they remain there, so content and filled with glee, I aim to travel to that land, far beyond the normal sea.
Though alas I am chained to suffer here, to eat processed and vile courses, I simply ask for a map of guidance, one to help me reach those sources.
Feel.You can`t.Feel.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You can`t feel what I felt.
Rip out your heart.
Pull out your spine
Tear yourself apart.
Then you`ll come close.
That`s how you made me feel.
With your words.
They reached inside me.
pierced my soul.
But now it`s different.
I have the chance
to tear you apart.
But I don`t.
It would mean being like you.
But I want to live.
So I forgive instead.
Cry of an ArtistThey tell me I’ll understandCry of an Artist2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
when I’m older.
That I shouldn’t be an artist.
I want to be those crumpled papers
in the corner of my room,
and the late nights I stayed awake
blinking at the moon.
And even though I lack the supplies
and ideas are far away,
I feel artistic blood
running through my veins.
I’m that empty spray can
left in the shadows of the walls
where street art’s been made
but the name’s not there at all.
And I’m that lonely artist
who fears of sticking out
because all the art critics
feel the urge to not speak, but shout.
And I’m that girl standing by the window,
wanting those paints and brushes,
pencils and pens,
and the city that hushes
when my art makes its
Loves me, loves me notHe loves me, he loves me not.Loves me, loves me not2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
What a stupid reason to kill a flower. How would a flower know if the love is reciprocated by the person?
He loves me, he loves me not.
How can killing this flower help? It was innocent, it had nothing to do this problem.
He loves me, he loves me not.
Will the flowers keep on being killed till it ends with "loves me"? Will it make a difference? No, it won't change how he really feels.
He loves me, he loves me not.
He loves me, he loves me not.
Flower petals littered the floor. "He loves me." The stem of the flower dropped to the floor on top of the petals that were once connected to it. A loud sigh filled the room, "Don't lie to me little flower, you and me both know that's not true. He would never love me, not the way I love him." The remnants of the flower were put in the bin and forgotten, but the message that it brought lived on in the mind.
He loves me.
No want tooNo energyNo want too2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I’m too weak to move on,
An too ill to care
All I need is a boost,
But who will give me what I need?
MelancholiaMelancholia cascades down pale peaks,Melancholia2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that once supported the weight of smiles.
The clear blue skies that gave it birth,
damp with reasons, surrender to the urge.
Two plump, silky rubies,
drown in the salinity of sadness.
Grey fabric clouds, abruptly moisten,
with the imprint of bedewed defeat.
For A FriendIts ok to cry.For A Friend2 years ago in Personal More Like This
Its ok to let your feelings out.
Its ok to speak your mind.
It's ok to let the words issue from your mouth.
It's ok to let them leap from your lips.
Being strong is not always the best for you,
Bottling the pain in brittle bottles.
'Cause those bottles always break and what they once held;
can comeback stronger.
The feeling immersing you in grief and sadness.
Robbing you of light and casting you into darkness.
Making your heart become cold, causing you to fade.
Don't be afraid darling, we will guide you.
You are safe. <3
Magic.Magic.Magic.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The voices in the wind.
The shiver down your spine.
The sparkle in the eye.
The whispers in the trees
It is Magic.
The forgiveness out of anger.
The strength out of weakness.
The light from darkness.
The life out of death.
It is Magic.
GrowthI remember the day I caught him 'gardening'. His cheeks stained cherry with the brisk wind that trotted beside him up and down the smothered garden path. He dropped a seed as his feet brushed past each other. Up and down he walked, a solemn lieutenant. I asked him what he was doing and those wide sky eyes reflected the ice as he told me he was trying to grow flowers for his mother. I looked at the seeds spilt on the snow and told him that they could never grow in these circumstances. I will never forget the clench in my heart when he responded, with a child's tongue; "I know".Growth2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
unheardThe imaginary audience of my poems used to beunheard2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
people like me who understand
(I suspect I was naive)
but now when I write
I feel like I'm trying desperately to change the course of the tide
with a spoon.
They see something in me that's neither special
nor even really there
all the cheesy, commercial, easy-to-fabricate emotional appeal
that people fall in love with left and right
and that I hate
but that sneaks into my writing
like dust into an already red eye
and is the only thing they can see about me
except they see it as a nice touch
instead of irritating.
All the ideas that I
proud of reverberate,
perhaps, for a moment;
waiting to be seen,
needing to be seen,
Their pale corpses pile up on my shoulders
until I can barely move.
I can hide them away, sure,
to find someone with the same
in the closet.
The Earth's PleaThese tears you ripped out of meThe Earth's Plea2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Form a deep pool that you swim in
Laughing spitefully at my misery
When will you hold me again?
How many more drops of blood
Will you squeeze out of me?
My body can’t take this pain
Let me kiss my children goodbye
Haven’t you had enough bloodlust?
Don’t you hear the screams of my beloved?
Come back to me
And heal this broken land
I am wasting away
Won’t you save me?
Can’t you see me?
Please I beg you
End this madness
Just take my hand
We will soar towards the light
Nuzlocke OC MEMEI didn't see one of these so I said what the heck. So I made one UvUNuzlocke OC MEME1 year ago in Personal More Like This
edit: wow this got really popular......i thought it died ahaha
CRIES LIKE A LOT!!! it hurts
1. What is your name?
2. Are you a boy or a girl?
3. How old are you?
4. What do you hate most in the world??
5. WHO do you hate most in the world?
6. What are your hobbies?
7. Interested in anyone yet?
8. Do you find anybody else sexy?
9. What type of music do you like?
10. Do you have any siblings??
11. Do you consider yourself good looking??
12. Do you want babies?
13. Where are you from?
15. What is your hometown?
16. Do you live with anybody?
17. Do you have any friends? Perhaps a BFF??
18. What's your favorite color?
19. What do you look for in someone? (As in a mate)
20. What's your type?
21. Have you had your first kiss yet?
22. Do you have any special skills?
23. What is your saddest death?
24. Who was your starter pokemon?
25. Why did you start your journey?
26. When did you start your journey?
27. Your fa
Angels in BostonI swore I saw angels in Boston that day.Angels in Boston2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When an eight year-old was lying on the ground,
his life floating away.
A bomb’s explosion is the loudest sound
for the ear of a child;
he had so much to give.
Tree limbs are falling
under the heat of the sky.
The sun burning brightly,
causing the salt behind my lids
to make me cry.
And the limbs they are scattered
with poppies on the ground;
a bomb’s explosion
must be the loudest sound.
For in the meadow, there are limbs from trees.
Where I reach, the poppies bleed,
for they bleed and grow
wherever I may go.
And as for the angels, they sit on the poppies below.
They come down from the heavens
to come and help people transition;
for there is another place
the wounded trees would rather go,
like a place in the skies
where they won’t ever have to die.
For an eight year-old was lying
on the streets of Boston that day,
when the skies were bright and clear,
and he was smiling away.
But the tree limbs have become scattered,
and his p
Spring MirageSpring commences as a mere illusion,Spring Mirage2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a season that simply balances between
the arctic realm of stain-glassed angels
and the blazing domain of Indian spirits.
It's an impressionist mural of floral fields,
intermingled plots of tulips and babies breath
that bow gently under the cobalt atmosphere,
amongst the dim fluorescent heavens.
It's an oil-covered canvas of April showers,
splashes of muddy rain puddles and clouds
that result in several bright colored umbrellas
and shoes fleeting to the nearest shelter.
It's a term in which all things are hoped for,
the brushes of warmth and coolness together,
the sight of budding cherry blossom trees
that resemble the utmost beauty.
But above all things, spring is an illusion;
a bridge dividing the world of frost and heat,
a time where the earth is lost in the scenery
and the art of its nature.
I Lost A Friend TodayI lost a friend today, and my heart will never heal.I Lost A Friend Today2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I almost cried, though I expect to cry later, when it sets in.
I lost a friend today, and I don't know how to deal.
I almost lied, but that would be wrong, though I don't believe in sin.
I lost a friend today, and my days will never be the same
I almost choked, though I expect it will happen, when I am alone
I lost a friend today, and I will miss our secret game
I almost broke, but it is coming, from my eyes to my bones
I lost a friend today, and my heart will never heal.
I almost abide, though my mind says no, I can't breathe in air
I lost a friend today, and this poem is how I will deal
I almost cried, at the beginning, but now I feel the tears.
*Jitters*Jitters in air tonight*Jitters*2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Fear surrounds, like a blight
Cannot see, mist came down
Laughter echoes, ghostly sound.
Following footsteps just ahead
Muted light from street lamp shed
Fear grips tight, walk alone
Chattering teeth, soon be home.
Firelight's glow, it will greet
Comfortable couch take a seat
Welcomed by my faithful hound
Wagging tail, thumping sound.
Safe from elements fear all gone
Listening to favourite song
Curtains closed against mist
Doorbell rings, I do resist.
*Wanderer*Night alive with stars*Wanderer*2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
So far away, yet I touch
My mind wanders free.
You're a Nerd Too!You’re a Nerd Too!You're a Nerd Too!2 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
The Definition of Nerd : an unstylish, unattractive, or socially inept person ; especially : one slavishly devoted to intellectual or academic pursuits
Hello, my name is Ray, and I am a nerd. I fit the above definition in every way. I am quite proud of being a nerd. It means that I read books that don’t have any pictures in them, I can find tiny little nations like Russia on a map, and that I am blissfully unaware of the transient and increasingly expensive pop-culture fads.
I was the kid who could be found under the dining room table with a good sci-fi novel or a stack of comic books when other kids were playing all the various games that can be played with a ball. (Has it ever occurred to you that all such games are essentially slightly more complicated versions of “fetch” which even the most mentally deficient dog can be taught to play in a fairly short time?) I was the kid who woke up my entire household wit