my eyes sometimes forget youwhen you are gone, my eyes sometimes forget you;my eyes sometimes forget you11 months 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 You1 year 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.
Youi can't imagine any hands but yours touching meYou11 months 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 allwindfall8 months 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
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.
The DanceThe Dance3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lace displayed for the dance
so begins the spring romance
Rainy Day Waltzi.Rainy Day Waltz3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The missles fall
like rain in a water-starved world
quenching thirst with blood
that runs wasted in the gutters.
The rounds fire in 3/4 time
while civilians waltz delicately in circles,
brushing steps with Death and his dance partner
The grenades flash like the snap of a camera.
With the click of a pin
Time freezes -
caught between two futures.
In one I die;
in the other
I wish I had.
A Soldier's WishlistDear Santa,A Soldier's Wishlist3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It's been a while since I wrote;
just give me a moment to clear my throat.
I'm a little out of practice
so forgive me if I seem quite callous.
I've got some complaints you've heard before,
but let me leave those at the door.
I watched the NORAD radar blip
but never got my Battleship.
Haven't believed since I was nine
but sitting here on the front line
I've got a wish not just for me
but for the men in my cavalry.
If it can't fit into a sack,
if such a load would break your back,
then I'd settle for a smoke and ticket home
but while I'm writing here alone
here's the list I never sent;
peace on earth, goodwill towards men.
InheritanceHe plucks a bitter C noteInheritance3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on a two hundred year old violin
that belonged to his mother,
and her grandmother.
The strings have never fallen flat before.
QuietlyShe stabbed at her potatoes with a deliberate slowness; the lulls in the surrounding conversation always came when she was in the middle of chewing a mouthful of food, and those lulls were the only chance she got to get a word in edgewise. But those chances passed by each time - someone was always faster, louder, shoving whatever tentative sentence that had been forming on her lips aside. She was too polite to say anything, instead turning back to the potatoes and stabbing a little harder, kicking herself under the table for being such a doormat.Quietly3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
They didn't mean to ignore her soft voice; it only kept getting lost, overpowered by the people around. She told herself that, over and over. Over and over. Over and over. But the mealtimes consistently found her sitting alone because while dealing with loneliness was one thing, having it shoved in your face was another.
In the end, it was easier to deal with it alone than to let other people talk around, over, and through her as though a ghos
Seafoam and AshA girl once told me she was conceived by the ocean. "By" not "beside" her skin was the color of new seafoam and you could follow her green eyes into the deeps and drown there. She had a soft, papery voice that sighed in and out and dark hair that cascaded past her shoulders like dried seaweed.Seafoam and Ash3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She was born along the sea strand, where the ocean met solidity and pounded it into tiny grains. Perhaps she was delivered in a clump of seaweed or crawled her way out of a pink conch shell and learned to swim before learning to walk. She carried an air of calm serenity that rippled around her like an aura wherever she went, content to flow instead of fight.
I met a boy born from the fire tailing comets rushing through the atmosphere. His hair was a shock of red swinging upward and he lit up entire rooms with his presence. He always spoke a little too fast, the words rushing from his mouth like sparks off a firecracker, flickering and dancing. His golden eyes flashed
Chance MeetingsIf I should spy thee on an autumn day,Chance Meetings3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
wave goodbye and carry on
your lonely road astray.
If I should spy thee on an autumn day
would you go or would you stay?
Though I would love to drone 'til dawn,
if I should spy thee on an autumn day,
wave goodbye and carry on.
FirefliesWe kept cicadas and caterpillars in mason jars, but never fireflies. My brother still has a cicada from three years ago, sleeping away under the lid. Grandpa says it'll stay that way for 17 years like all cicadas do, and it's okay to keep them safe.Fireflies2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But we don't catch fireflies; they don't live that long. They say light travels faster than anything, but our bugs are fat lazy things that travel nowhere in a big zigzag. The tall grass lights up with tiny little flashes every night all summer long and all is dark not two months later, but for the time being they don't even know they're dying.
FirstSuddenlyFirst3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a touch, all it took
no, don't say it
hold me close
to float away
PhysicalityTo the girl that cut her hair,Physicality3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
We can finally see your face.
You have lovely eyes.
To the lady with the hooked nose,
We all know the secret now - the bigger the nose, the better the cookies.
Thanks for returning our ball.
To the girl that tans too much,
Cancer doesn't care about your implants.
Enjoy them while they last.
To the girl with an hourglass figure,
You are running out of time.
Just eat something, please.
To the woman with a plastic face,
Make all the modifications you want; you're still ugly on the inside.
Surgery can't fix that.
The Darkest Evening of the YearThey had met at the café before, but this was the first time by happenstance. He spotted her first as he opened the door, just as the barista was passing her what he already knew to be hot chocolate. Autumn got the exact same thing every time they met here on the darker side of the year; hot chocolate, made with milk, don't hold back on the whipped cream. He didn't have to wait long to be noticed; he barely had time to call out before she had already seen him.The Darkest Evening of the Year3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Lawrence!" Her face lit up with recognition. "Out for a bit? Leaving your poor cat alone again?"
He knew he was being teased, but he smiled anyway. "You know that furball can't stand the thought of snow. He's perfectly happy inside, no doubt in the middle of my bed."
"Aw, don't be so mean to poor Bast. He has a hard life."
"Yes, those nine hour naps do look quite taxing."
She laughed. "Come on, I'll buy you a cup of tea," waving him towards the counter.
One hand went up in protest. "No need for that," he turned his attentio
Not that SimplePlease,Not that Simple3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Oh sure-and-stubborn teacher,
stop telling me
her death deserves no mourning.
It was a choice, yes or no
and it's all her fault.
It isn't that simple.
Don't look me in the eyes--
My eyes, that have seen my own blood
more times than I can count; eyes
that have closed tight as a knife was held
to my throat by my own hand;
eyes that read the labels on those bottles
wondering how many pills
would stop my lungs--
don't look me in the eyes and tell me
it's simply yes or no.
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
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.
Fatherly AdviceMy father always warned me; stay away from vending machines. You never know what's going to latch on to your arm when you go sticking your hand into dark holes. Unnatural, he said, machines spitting up plastic bottles like a bulimic dolphin. Coin stealing bastards, never even give you the right drink, I said I wanted DIET Coke peabrain. Don't waste your quarters son use the soda fountain like nature intended, and all will be well in your life. Keep your ice cubed and your soda lidded when you drink. But who listens to him? He's afraid of vending machines.Fatherly Advice3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
DownSlowly sinking;Down3 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....