Unfinished - A Portrait's PoemThe orange sky bleeds blue, ontoUnfinished - A Portrait's Poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
skeletal husks disguised as trees,
limbs lost, and searching,
barren of leaves.
It is strange to think
that I feel alone,
They wave to me, please,
chop those lonely trees down.
These golden-frame walls,
they used to hold
life and love and hope and breath,
and may yet,
should these bleak brush strokes change.
But what fruit will grow,
when the stem is cut?
My father has long since withered,
and I am not yet complete.
Snip, snip, snap my tendons.
Sip, sip, sap the blood from my veins.
I am at the mercy of your eyes and mind.
No, please don't look away.
I am not yet complete.
Secret BondSecret Bond3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Boa Hancock walked slowly through what could only be described as a dried out marsh land. The sun was shining directly onto her, warming her cheeks to the point of discomfort. She had been wondering for quite some time around an island she didn't recognize. She had no idea how she had gotten there or where it was. Salome was also missing forcing her to make her own way around. The problem was she was getting dangerously dehydrated and really needed to find water.
Finally after hours of treading upon the dry land, Hancock came across her salvation. A small fresh water lake lay before her. Glimmering in the sun as if calling to her. She wanted to instantly jump in and relieve herself of the discomfort that seemed to be getting worse every second.
Hancock took small steps forward, looking around for any signs of life. There was none. Not that it surprised her, this island seemed to be too hot to attract any life, let alone sustain it. Would it hurt to take a dip? Thought Hancock. The isla
Twilight and the Smoke AlarmTwilight and the Smoke Alarm3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
All was quiet in the clear peaceful night as Luna's moon slowly moved across the sky, bathing everything in a cold light. Downwards from the sky sat the small town of Ponyville; all lights were off and an incredible calmness reigned the streets. Some party animals were still awake and were gathered in an underground basement, which was used as a night club. But there was another particular building that's more of our interest.
The library, which was made out of a tree housed a unique unicorn; one that would not be having a pleasant night. This unicorn was the one and only Twilight Sparkle, Celestia's most faithful student and protégée.
Twilight was fast asleep, wonderfully and peacefully resting in her bed. The covers and pillows were a shade of color that seemed to match the mare perfectly; her mane was groomed and styled for now. Nearby in his basket slept a small purple scaled dragon that puffed smoke out as he dreamt of what dragons dreamt.
All was calm until.
Death of a Queen The Queen of Olomar had always been a stunning beauty, but in death her loveliness was magnified. Her face was white and pristine like a porcelain doll, framed by the golden, perfect tangles of her hair. Her crystal eyes were closed, peaceful, as if dreams, not death, had taken her, and her pink lips were parted, a permanent mold of her calm and final breath. But it was her warmth more than anything that made her so lovely in death, for although life had slipped from her ethereal form, the warmth of her heart remained, and her body could not grow cold.Death of a Queen3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
This was the tale that the people of Olomar would tell in the months following, amongst each other and to curious foreigners passing through. In a few years many would actually convince themselves that the tale was true. But no one who had been there would ever be able to forget the horror that was the true death of Queen Emma.
EyesEyes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Why should I care
about all the stares
all the looks, is something wrong?
why are you judging me?
You think I can't see,
but I do.
And though I put on a happy façade,
It still hurts.
Sacrifice of An Odd FluidJust a quick note to thank you for extinguishing the mules. Although I'm not exactly sure what a Smeangy is I can appreciate that it must have taken you a long time to milk, or squeeze, or otherwise coax-out all that fluid only to sacrifice it on a fire.Sacrifice of An Odd Fluid5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It was our first year shellacking the mules; in hindsight, we probably should have put a little more distance between the baby juggler, the 'flaming-pointy-stick' juggler, and the town's shiniest (and regretfully flammable) asses. But thanks to your quick thinking and sacrifice, the juggler was able to keep most of the babies in the air, and relatively flame free and non porous.
Good news: our surgeon general, an expert in burning mules (he studied at Harvard), assures us that the burning sensation in your lungs is not from mule smoke. Apparently the ingredients commonly used to make the festival's candy were inadvertently mixed with ingredients that should never ever be used to make candy. He recommends that you don't take any food or
Obsessions Are Like RestaurantsObsessions Are Like Restaurants3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
For months on end you hear about how good the restaurant is. From EVERYone. You avoid it cause you're so sick of hearing about it.
Then finally, when the hype dies down a little, you go in secret. You sit down. You're given the menu--which only lists desserts--and you order.
Then, brought to you on a gigantic silver platter, you are given the best, most sinfully delicious cakes, cookies, pastries, etc. you have ever tasted in your ENTIRE LIFE. You eat and you eat and you eat and you eat. You're up all night on a sugar high.
Days pass. Weeks pass. Suddenly, ordinary food doesn't taste good anymore. Meat? No thanks. Veggies? Bleh. Fruit? Not unless it's strawberry shortcake. Your pride forgotten, you rush to the restaurant every single day for every single meal. You talk, think, breathe, Deviantart/Pinterest/Youtube/Facebook/Twitter it CONSTANTLY. How have you lived without this glorious place for so long?!?
Eventually, however, your start to notice that the highs are no longer as high-i
LookWhat do I doLook4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What do I write
How do I express
How do I let go
How do I convince myself
How do I see why
Cutting is wrong
And why people hate it
The times I did I was satisfied
I could look down
and see the lines
of the night before
I could see the reflection
of how cutting helped me forget
Helped me forget the past
The people, The neglect
The lonely times I spent in silence
I gained from distraction
And most of all
I gained self-control
over how to get people to care
Because all I had to do
was pull up my sleeve and say
An Angels LoveLong ago I had walked down the hallway of my life devoid of emotion for I had grown accustomed to seeing faces of others passing by me, either distraught or otherwise bright with some form of bliss brought about by ignorance. I grew ever weary of the world in which I seemed to be ensnared in, like a bird locked inside of a cage wanting to fly free. Unlike the others who seemed to be born free with beautiful, natural wings, I was born at the bottom of a dark and stagnant well. I grew up looking at the sky, in which symbolized freedom and therein, joy! I wished to escape that place but alas I, unlike the others, had no wings. One day, an angel descended down upon me and told me that it is going to be okay. She offered her hand in order to escape the forsaken chamber in which I had dwelled in so woefully and for such a long time. I was willing but I was afraid that I would never be good enough and that I would eventually return to be buried even deeper than before. And so, in thinking thiAn Angels Love5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sitting There In a Dark Room It was a late night. He was sitting in his dark room, bathing in shallow beams of yellow light coming from his lamp above. He had nothing to do, he could've been sleeping by that time, but instead he was sitting there in his dark room, almost fading into the night. With a blank stare he was biting his fingers. He seemed totally drawn into that strange procedure - nervous teeth would search for rough, dead pieces of skin to bite on and thus relieve an unknown pressure and get some strange and unfathomable fulfillment. Sometimes he would use one hand to help the teeth feed on the other - he looked like a merciless executioner, while his fingers were the victims - trembling, dying, cold. But he did not think about that: he would just bite. He had lost track of time, didn't notice how a minute turned into ten, an hour flowed into a day, a day into weeks, months, years, millenniums, aeons... He was just sitting in his dark room biting his fingers beneath the dying beams of dark amberSitting There In a Dark Room3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
a love like thata kiss, a touch,a love like that3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
your body on mine
i said too much
do you think there is still time?
shall we hold our breaths
and freeze that frown
wait for our regrets
to break us down?
shall we pretend
we never fell for eachother
so you can be just a friend
and i don't have to bother
watching your tears
cause they won't float into mine
and drowning your fears
in blood colored wine?
shall we shut down the day
and put it in our pocktes
so it will stay at bay
while we sleep on our lockets.
A Puppeteer and Amoeba ArgueA new young woman entered the man's life, and she married him too.A Puppeteer and Amoeba Argue5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
His ex-wife knew and sliced the strings the man still spun to surround her.
The ex-wife told the man, "You call me daily. I'm no puppet for you. Your calls are untrue."
The man said, "But I love your voice. I can't give you up. Don't you know I love you?"
She said, "Don't call me. It's not fair to your wife. It's not kind and it causes strife."
He said, "She doesn't mind. She knows our history. It's longer than her little life."
The man said, "I think about you. I need to know where you are. How will I know you're fine?"
She replied, "I'm in my NOW. I know where I am and NOW is mine. I'm not in your time."
He said, "Oh. Well. I won't call. But will you call me and say our love isn't gone?"
It took her a moment of thought and a look at her horizon.
She said, "Now I'm in a desert with no sand, no oasis, no cactus, no sky and no sun."
He said, "See? I love how you talk. That was so poetic and so much fun!"
*Compound*Compound*Compound*3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I see you aloud
Never inconspicuous to me
You make life full
Being most cardinal
I desire you only
Love's never loose
Walking past those shadows
Pairs being delightful
None so compassionate
I can never let go
Nothing ever between us
Trust is but a choice
Together we are one
That one compound
The old houseThe sky was gray,The old house7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so dark and cold.
It was impossible to see night from day.
A town dark, cold and old.
At the end of main street,
an old worn out house.
Allmost kneeling from scars of time,
lack of maintenance and rats and mice.
The roof was saging,
the walls where cracked.
Glasses broken, and borded shut.
The smell could turn your guts.
There alone it stood,
no one to care. No one to mend.
It withstood the wind, and the snow.
The rain and the ice.
One day, it fell.
To most just as well.
The rats fled, as the walls went to hell.
Even the smallest of mice.
Nothing is left,
Only a rubble.
A rubble where a house once stood.
Kept a family dry, warm and did them good.
The house had been a home.
Home to 3 generations.
All of them now dead and gone.
That left the house all alone.....
DemonsYou filthy little demon,Demons3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sneaking upon me, grabbing me.
You live in a black pit,
infecting me with your insanity and hatred.
You keep crawling beneath my ribcage,
making me slowly decay.
I tumble with madness,
throwing words like knives.
I see the world shatter,
carrying your children to all the others.
I reach through my ribs,
tearing you out...
You filthy little demon.
Blue to Red REDBlue to Red4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Red is my favorite color
It has special meaning
The meaning of anger, and love
of passion and lust
But not just any blood
Exposed blood. Blood that has been penetrated by this strange entity
And because of this stranger it has become a beautiful elixir
It has changed from a royally painful Blue
into a rich deep Scarlet
You are that Oxygen
And I'm the blood that was once a vile blue, but is now a gorgeous red
And I'm afraid I am to keep devouring you
So bear with me
To always be with me
It didn't missAs you whent, I blew a kiss.It didn't miss3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It didn't miss.
It layed softly on your cheecks.
To keep you safe through this troubled night.
The sky may be dark, I may see only black.
But i know you have my back.
You may be far.
You may not be near.
But i love you my dear.
For i blew you a kiss.
It didn't miss.
Evangeline and NannaNanna is like a gazillion years old. I know that because her face is full with wrinkles, like my kindergarden skirt when Mommy doesn´t iron it. I also know it because when I ask her how old she is, Nanna never answers me, and I suspect it is because she can´t count that muchEvangeline and Nanna3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I hate when Nanna insists on combing my hair, she pulls it too hard, and it hurts me. I also hate when she tells me: "Evangeline, don´t do that!" or "Evangeline, stop that!", because she always ruins my fun. I hate when Nanna makes me eat vegetables, and I hate that if I don´t eat them she puts me more on my plate. And it really, really annoys me when Nanna says "You´re just like me when I was your age". I don´t know why, but it bothers me.
What I really like about Nanna, is that she is great at cooking, well, except for the vegetables. My favorite food is Nanna´s apple pie, it is just plain delicious. Other thing I like about Nanna is when she hugs me. Her hugs are the warm
Girl as PoemShe was once a verse by BaudelaireGirl as Poem3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
something about flowers
that were loyal to none
and I kissed her
when no one was watching.
She was a stanza by Byron
who stood on
the white cliffs of somewhere
and praised her eyebrows.
She is nothing like summer
or a lost continent;
is too bold for that.
Her shoulders are not
or a battle to be won.
I thought she was a poem -
or maybe an ode
or sonnet -
words teased and woven
that beat and bled
upon my humble pen,
not the flesh and blood
of thighs and hips
ripening beneath my gaze,
waiting to be written.
The Dark.The dark,The Dark.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The all consuming dark,
Never ceasing, never ending.
Nothing to do but sit in the dark.
Trapped in the dark,
Left in total abandonment.
The light had disappeared, and I could see nothing.
The only light.
The taste of stale bread lingering in my mouth.
I closed my eyes, there was no difference
Here in the dark.
Sounds echoed loudly, was I alone?
Or was there something lurking
There in the dark?
They aren't coming back for me.
Trapped in the dark.
Shell BeakInfinite Angel Energy!Shell Beak3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What All Is.is