Youi can't imagine any hands but yours touching meYou1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
with leather-softness, the practiced strokes of artists
on their masterpieces- eyes like the watching stars
blessing those exposed below. and i cannot see a way
to trust my core to other arms- you envelop me
as snowbanks wait for their falling sisters; silent
and the same. and i could not give my lips, my voice,
my budding words away to anyone who does not have
your ears- you hear me just right. i don't know how.
i don't know how you see me with the lights off,
how you hear the sighs of my soul when i am
holding my breath, how you can feel the places
i am bruised right through the blankets-
i don't know what i could have done
to deserve you; but i do know
it has saved me.
windfallI would gather allwindfall1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the seven seas for you.
for me, you would not
spare a raindrop.
Seaside MassacreListen close, you human folkSeaside Massacre3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And I shall tell you a tale, one that is no joke
So do not laugh or giggle or squeal
Because this story is far too real
Once upon a time
In a land untouched by humankind
There flew and flitted a tiny bird
And when he flew, his song could be heard
Chip! He would say, oka-chee-wee!
Come now, sing with me!
And this was the song of the Dusky
The Sparrow who lived beside the Sea
And through dry stalks of golden grass
He would dart around rather fast
Searching for his favorite treat
A nice mosquito for which to eat
And he might bring a gift for his lady fair
A twig, a leaf, a piece of hair
And with utmost skill she would weave
Those objects into the nest she did need
Chicks her goal, those wide gaping beaks
Where all that a mother could hope to receive
Soon three little eggs, of lightly sprinkled gray
Sat in the nest, speaking of new life on its way
And one by one the eggs did hatch
And for each mouth, there was another bug to catch
So father and mother rotated s
my eyes sometimes forget youwhen you are gone, my eyes sometimes forget you;my eyes sometimes forget you1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the daily grind goes on; the bus-wheels roll their hides over the asphalt roads;
the snow melts into pools and clings to boots, licking the rubber heels of girls
who sway their hips to music faintly heard; women smile in coffee shops
and leave stray hairs on the wicker chairs; people pass by windows and
catch the light; my fingers turn the pages of new books.
somehow your voice finds me in the midst of this,
and very softly brings the words
that never really leave me:
this is my love.
when you are gone, my eyes sometimes forget you-
but my heart does not.
Dear YouDear YouDear You2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I guess I should have used your whole name but I might not remember it right. I want you to read this letter till the end. So please do not feel offended. It is still meant for you. Names do not really matter anyway.
I am also fully aware there are no punctuation marks here. No commas. Because I am tired of endless sentences and I am sick of meaningless conversations. No question marks. Because I am out of curiosity and most of the answers are not really answers at all. There is always something we will not wholly understand no matter how many questions we ask. We only wish we knew everything. No exclaimation marks. Because I can hardly feel anything anymore. And I am very rarely surprised. Just full stops. Because they mark the end. Because they do not depict emotion. Because they are realists. They can describe the world the way it is. And they do not require answers. So I will not be hurt when you never write me back. I will simply go on. Full stop. With no emotions.
The DanceThe Dance3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lace displayed for the dance
so begins the spring romance
Memories"Abbi don't!" I shouted, just before the hose drenched my church outfit. She giggled, and despite being miserable and wet, I smiled.Memories3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Making her laugh always made me smile. Even as a seven year old.
"You're gonna get in trouble with Amma." Almost as if on cue, my grandmother came into the back yard. "Cole Jason Bartholomew!" she shrieked and when I pointed at Abbigale, she sighed. "Abbi Nicole Rose, what have I told you about picking on Cole?" She smiled innocently, her cheeks flushed with pink. "She wasn't picking on me." I pouted, crossing my arms. "Please, she could take you any day, Coley." Amma said lightly, stroking Abbi's hair. I stomped off, away from the sound of their giggles. I smiled as I left though, because making Abbi laugh always made me smile.
"Happy thirteenth birthday, Abbi." I said with a grin, strolling up her driveway. She returned my smile, and jumped into my arms. "Cole! I thought you said you couldn't ma
DownSlowly sinking;Down4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Gasping for air to no avail.
Screaming in my head,
Knowing there's no hope.
Giving up is the only kind way to go.
Fogs like blood.
No way out.
Feel myself sinking,
no point in fighting.
Don't know when it will end,
But I know where I'm going....
Drowning in Reversex. I still have your phone.Drowning in Reverse3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
ix. The boardwalk carnival was shut down a few months later, roped off and boarded up like a condemnation of joy. The ferris wheel still rose high above the skyline, towering in silent reminder.
viii. The funeral was on a beautiful, balmy, sunny day and somehow that made it all the worse. The wind would pick up a little and ruffle your goldspun hair and I could hope, just for a moment, that you were still here.
vii. It was a cold, white room. I don't know why hospitals are so cold. Or maybe it was just me - maybe it was just me trying to siphon out all of my warmth and channel it into you.
vi. I didn't see the crowd that gathered on the beach - I barely registered the flash of red and blue lights - I only saw you, skin pale as the stretcher they were loading you on to, blue shirt stained black like a death sigil.
v. Someone was drowning. You cast an arm out pointing - there was someone out there in the dark water drifting further and further from shore.
PillsAm I made of matter?Pills3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They fill me with this
swallow, three, four,
one mistake means
and they wonder why I freeze.
I'm not unsure of who I am.
I'm unsure if I am
Niu eoa EinEinNiu eoa Ein3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The world is still.
The deer perk their ears up at the crunch of snow under my fur-lined boots, curious. One paws at the ground nervously before taking flight across the open expanse, the herd following in his wake. They spring lightly over twisted roots and disappear in the fog. Another day, another place, perhaps I would follow, take thrill from the zeal of the hunt.
But today has a different purpose.
The World Tree towers no less than before; if anything, it is wider than I recall. The bough reaches into the very clouds, past hills, past mountains; perhaps even past stars. It matters not. I slide the pack from my shoulder, landing it with a heavy thump on the frozen ground, thundering across the silence. I leave it behind, save for Gungnir and a length of rope, padding my way to the Tree.
The bark is slightly warm something hums in the air and the silence returns when I remove my hand.
The Tree demands blood.
The blood has rushed and pooled into my fin
Still Not GingerThe Doctor had decided to dye his hair.Still Not Ginger3 years ago in Humor More Like This
“Well, Rose, not going to be regenerating anymore,” he said cheerfully. “And that means I’ve got to find another way to be ginger.”
“Yes, but…you’re going to dye it?” she asked. “I like your hair, you know. It’s nice. Suits you.”
“But I want to be ginger!” he’d whined, and it wasn’t like it was her hair to control, so she’d sighed and agreed to buy him some hair dye. Once he had the packet, he’d frowned, proclaimed it to be “not ginger enough,” and proceeded to add some sort of strange alien chemical to it. Rose had her doubts about changing the composition of the stuff, but he’d insisted that it would be fine, and he was the Doctor, after all.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked him, arms folded as he shooed her out of the bathroom.
A story of usA new chapter in this story of me,A story of us3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Another page turned in this book,
Another tear or smile to see,
A new way to love or a new look.
This story we weave through time,
With love and pain and tears,
A tale of truth so sublime,
A tale of us and all our fears.
The pages we study turn after turn,
They weave colors into a smile,
They can make our stomachs churn,
Or a laugh change the world for a while.
A new chapter is written,
A new host of feelings felt,
Another lover smitten,
A heart placed upon a shelf.
This is our book,
Our story of truth sublime,
A written memory we took,
And made last for all time.
EmYou--Em3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sweet, god, you.
You. Three months too late.
god, my sweet darling--
I'm so sorry.
Magdalene StarShe had never noticed the star there before.Magdalene Star4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Admittedly, Kate had never really bothered to stop and really look before this. After a brief and thoroughly well spent youth, Kate felt that, on reflection, maybe she should have misspent a little more and taken the time to just stand around looking at the stars. For tonight though, the balance was temporarily redressed, the silence total outside, broken only by the soft rhythmic bleeping of a machine further down the ward. It was the stars that gripped her though, bright and appearing uncommonly close, crowding round the crescent moon that held court over the winter sky.
Shifting awkwardly so that she could kneel up and look out of the window, Kate leant her elbows on the sill and watched her breath make little circles of condensation on the glass. It must be cold outside; the snow on the ground had that peculiar sparkle that came from being frozen in place, and the trees stood glistening with a coat of ice. Icicles hung like teeth from th
A Song DeferredWhat happens to a song deferred?A Song Deferred3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Does it die in the throat
like a sentence unheard?
Or stutter like a car engine dying
and then fade away before even trying?
Does it trip over itself like a first-time performer?
Or choke on the notes
like a poorly cooked order?
Maybe it just falters and dies
like a newborn fawn wounded.
Or does it continue, boldly but muted?
One Way TicketI have always known that I will die on a train.One Way Ticket3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I used to wait for Death at the railroad tracks. Some days I would kick off my shoes and balance on the rails. Other days I would lie on the tracks and count the stars. He never came for me, but it's okay I understand.
I saw him once through the window of a passenger train, scythe leaning against the glass. He was reading the newspaper. He glanced up long enough to see me waving and offered a nod in return. I watched him go as long as I could, until the last car was a dot on the sun, and I finally turned away to find summer was now autumn and my shoes were full of dust.
I crunched my toes in the gravel and sat down on the cold railing to wait for his train to return.
Something Like OptimismHe loved the city most at night.Something Like Optimism3 years ago in Settings More Like This
Not midnight midnight was cliché, passé; midnight was for Cinderella, and he was never leaving this ball. The fog rolled into the San Francisco bay on a gentle wind, the slightest touch of cold ruffling through his hair. The golden bridge shone on clear nights but tonight it glowed, softened by the natural blanket and cast a smoldering warmth in the black.
He cast one leg out, dangling over the lip of an abandoned, rather Victorian looking house. From here, his unobstructed view could take in the massive expanse of water on three sides and the distant gleam of a delirious nightlife, choking on its own heady essence. Somewhere, always in the background, the constant hush of lapping waves beckoned, rushing in and out, in and out, like a softer version of the fault quakes. The tang of salt on the breeze tickled his nose and mingled with distant aroma of Dungeness crab boiling on the Wharf.
He leaned back, arms behind his head, resting on t
The WaitingBridget kept calling it their 'first grown-up party,' even though it was just senior high kids, and 'grown-up' was something eight-year-olds said. Jenna knew she and Bridget, being only ninth graders, were lucky to be invited, but she wasn't enjoying it. At all. The music was too loud for talking even though no one was dancing. People just drank and shouted and made out, and every so often a girl would run out in tears. It was boring.The Waiting3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Are you ready to go home yet?" Jenna yelled in Bridget's ear.
"No! This is great!" Bridget's shout made Jenna's ear-drum flutter.
Jenna looked down into her Solo cup, which held flat, lukewarm beer. The idea of drinking any more of it made her stomach twist. The night wasn't at all what she had expected. Contrary to what she had believed when she was little, being a teenager wasn't a destination to be reached; it was nothing but endless waiting for something to happen. Jenna had thought that tonight would be something, but it turned out to
Joy in Sorrowi.Joy in Sorrow3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
A simple backflip
to tease the audience now
take a deeper breath.
A beat of silence;
the audience hanging on.
The clowns know you're there.
Do not twist that way
before the tall man in black
walking on crutches.
Look up but not down.
Let go if you want, but the
net won't save you now.
flip together in perfect
A railway station.
A goodbye, a torn letter.
The snowfall was never so
Day 1Fade.no.Day 13 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hold on, grasp
no/you have control
You're My HeroYou're My Hero3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It's been 13 years since the 6th Hokage died, everyone was depressed since then, but moved passed it with some time. When he died she became the Hokage right away for some reason, that girl was Hinata, Hyuga. Her husband died right on the day Hiroyuki was born. Himaru is Hinata's only child, he has he's dad's blonde spiky hair, he has he's blue, bright eyes, he has he's father's tan skin and he has he's whisker marks. He looked exactly like his fatherů
"Okaa-san! I'm going on my mission!" Himaru shouted throughout the house waiting for a response, he waited for a while longer, but gave up as he didn't hear a single sound. Then when he reached for the knob of the door and opened it slightly, but then stopped as he heard his mom running down the stairs
"Wait!" Hinata shouted as she ran straight to Himaru and hugged him tight.
"What took so long?" Himaru complained as Hinata let go of him.
"The paper work was a pain last night, but never mind that." Hinata said as she smiled.