The AccidentThe AccidentThe Accident5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My nose burned with the thick smell of gasoline when I came to.
"Someone help her! Call an ambulance!"
I didn't know what had happened. It all happened so fast.
"I called them, but it'll be a few minutes before they get here! Somebody give me a hand!"
As those distant voices echoed through my throbbing head, the whole world seemed dimmer. When I reached to touch my forehead, I felt a sharp, burning pain in my right arm. My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them open anyway. My right arm was hanging limply over my head, a small trickle of blood running between my fingers and thumb from a small gash in my elbow. I think my arm's broken.
A few painful attempts at moving my arm proved me right.
Where am I? Ignoring the sharp pain in my waist, I slowly looked around. Through heavy eyelids, I recognized the shattered windshield and the broken dashboard. I caught
Maybe this is LoveI. L o v eMaybe this is Love2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A longing so deep that just the slightest touch of his fingertips could make her feel connected to something greater than herself.
She remembers the last time he was with her.
His arms wrapped around her, folding her into his chest. She loved feeling of being so close to his heartbeat, but she knew that when he finally let go, he would have to leave. He would kiss her goodbye and hours later he would be sitting on the plane, maybe feeling the same tugging in his heart that she did.
I love you, I love you. Please come back to me.
II. D i s t a n c e
The space between here and there is an entire ocean's length away, and some mornings she wakes up tired and exhausted after swimming through that ocean in her dreams.
She sits there in the middle of her bed, the light pouring in through her half-drawn curtains. She wears his jacket; it smells like him, though just barely. The scent has long since faded after the months he's been away. And y
Don't listen to meNote, if you so will, that I am troublesome to you.Don't listen to me5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Morning falls on us like shadow;
we don't need it.
Tell me you will stay forever.
(How I need it.)
Note that I am wooden, and
if ever, seldom moved.
One day and more than seven nights
at this place far away
in the woodlands
the cold lands
the lands of love.
Open your eyes and see my mistakes
I beg you, forgive me not.
In sleep, all children of the wind
share something of its beauty,
of its charm.
Just see that I am worse than most,
as good for you as sand.
But through their sleepy eyes
they do not see:
Who comes to love,
will come to harm.
So wake now, I am begging you
for I can't leave you here
(one more defect
if not my worst)
But still, I must, I will endure
this harm to see you stay
another day, another
seven hundred nights with me.
An open letterI'd like to write about meAn open letter4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the plainest words,
or, better yet, not utilize
a human tongue at all.
For words are seldom meaningful
and only sketch where they should strive
to care- and thoughtfully describe
the detailed truths and hidden lies.
Yet still I wish to write of me;
explain, in detailed sketches
things I do not understand
nor ever hope to have explained.
Consider this an open letter;
friend to friend,
from fool to fools,
a message to the wind:
Were I to tell you of myself,
in person, not in written word,
I'd joke, tell excerpts of my life
and never show the storm inside;
This storm, so meagrely described
by all I'll ever do or say
is source of what goes on in me
of motion, movement, peace and strife;
It leads me from without within me,
lets me dream the world outside
with waking eyes and fully conscious;
paints the ways in front of me.
In some ways I am good and righteous
or at least prefer to be
shown other situations you would surely
break your bonds and ties with
Raw Hailed as the weeperRaw6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that cries in your stead
Those Albatross claws ruptured my redd
Gone is my hollow
of prickly twine
Leaving its chill-
burrowed 'gainst spine
I'll be the lost one
seeped in the
unmappedi know not whereunmapped6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to begin. the stares
are careless, the stars
couldn't care less,
and the world won't wait
while i catch my breath.
there is no space
in air to take the sky
for a ride in the water,
but i am still
opportunities afforded -
at each strange path
to be progressed.
we write backward ways
to overlay our inky feet,
these prints too deep to keep
receipt of old transgression.
of misplaced blessings.
of miracles abandoned,
on the vine.
you are wrapped around
a finger of flowers
and colour speaks louder,
but by nature
of your ghost-shape
As the AirI'm in love with the air and the cries it carries to meAs the Air5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I love that which I cannot see, nor hear, nor touch
And yet I feel it
The only true love I've known
During a life of heartbreak and disappointments
Oh! To meet the air. That which has come over me
What should I do? Dance with him, lay with him?
Tell he that I know not what his troubles may be
That I love him?
What is it to love that which does not exist?
Love does not see, nor hear, nor touch itself
It is as the air to me
So I find that it is love that I love
And nothing else
Behavioral Expectations.Decent behavior is a reasonable expectation that everyone should rightfully be able to have. In a classroom environment, people cannot get along as a group and learn what we must if the collective group fails to cooperate. Everyone should be equally expected to behave in a civilized and respectable manner. Chaotic arguments waste everyones time. It is important to respect others as well as be respected yourself.Behavioral Expectations.6 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
As a teacher, you should have the power and the control to make the class listen and cooperate. If you give students cause to respect you, they may do just that. However, because you spend so much time cultivating negativity throughout the classroom, class time is being sacrificed and your leadership is being compromised.
As a student, I expect that my teacher will control the class. Yelling at students cannot be tolerated, as it creates a hostile learning environment, wastes extremely limited and valuable learning time, and is extremely disrespectful to the students. Stu
Communicate your questions"Your proximity un-weaves meCommunicate your questions5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
threads and scarecrows everywhere:
Who cuts, who sews, who dares bring sorrow
to this live
(but you, my darling
killer, lover, cold and bloody?)"
"Your proximity bereaves me
all I had just yesterday
lies scattered on the ground and
in your pockets, dark and dirty
(how do you find time to make me
hand myself away each time?)"
"Luckily, in utmost darkness
no one knows who really stands
who really stares and preys at whom
or if the feeling in their hearts
is more than salt and wind and dust:
A move, a sudden turn, a thrust:
A knife, because for you I must
see through the darkness
(bring the end)
walk through the mornings
step through the fire
(steal the heat)
wash states in ice
"I like the way you turn around."
"I think it's in the way it kills.
I like the way you bring me down."
"That comes with expertise in scars."
HeyHey, somewhere along the way I lost youHey5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and my mind still follows those lines of orange sand
and wonders about peculiar lightings
and the smell of everyone around.
Why is melancholy so similar to happiness?
Why are the thoughts I have of you
the same I had
again and again.
And why are they different this time?
(I know, I know damn well.)
Hey, somehow I made it all across
just to notice I left someone on the way
I guess he was important
I think I knew him, did you?
Why don't I turn when you scream
and where is my nose, my face, my fucking
horse. I'd love to ride into the sunset
with my outlines clearly defined against the horizon
but you manage to fuck up the photograph
(blurry, blurry mess)
in the end it amounts to a mess of dangerous luck
and a pretty box of shit
and not all change is golden
but what really is.
Yeah, who really is.
Your ImaginationClose your eyes for I am your visionYour Imagination5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Clear your mind for I am your truth
Open your heart for I am your haven
Show me your desire for I am your greed
beta physicsi.beta physics3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the rain wrapped impatience around your roof,
bored through the wood like a thousand million termites
(or one you-sized termite, blind, breathless)
and seeped from the cold clockwork like battery acid.
you lived in a widow's closet -
a house swarmed with antiques
that collapsed in their own gravity
and combusted -
and then you lived in widow's charcoal.
"galaxies are either lovers or termites," she mused.
(earlier, her fingernails bored into my back
Hubble's thousand million stars, all drops of acid
branding my spine.)
"they are drawn to each other for years
and in an instant, once together,
eat themselves alive."
Dead WrongDear Boy with the Broken Eyes.Dead Wrong4 years ago in Letters More Like This
Just because they have always said it, things have always been difficult. And they are right. Life has always been difficult. Things will never happen the way you want them to happen. Broken hearts are so much easier to find than mended ones. And dreams? Well, if the world ran on dreams, we'd be building a whole new universe already, just to escape our own jaded one.
When I met you, you had already seen the worst of this world. They told you that you were not allowed to love because you couldn't do it the right way. They informed you that you weren't a poet, just a vagabond with tragic fingers on a broken instrument. They explained to you that you couldn't rise above anything because you just weren't special. And that every step of the way, they would be breaking you down, just to watch you fall.
Of course, they didn't mention that when you speak, your voice holds a lost song within it. And when you sleep, your guitar is an inch away from yo
circles in the sand.you will be drawing circles in the sand when he finds you.circles in the sand.6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
'why are you bothering to draw in the sand?' he'll ask. 'the waves will only wash your circles away.'
you'll finish the circle by writing love in the center, then you'll stand up to answer him, hair in your eyes from the wind and sand on your face.
'because maybe it won't get washed away,' you'll say. 'isn't it a chance worth taking?'
and instead of laughing at you like you expected, he'll smile. 'yes,' he'll say. 'oh, yes.'
you will be weak with lack of sleep, drowsy and stumbling, and he'll catch you before you run into the wall.
'go away,' you'll tell him. 'just go away.'
'no,' i don't think i will,' he'll say. 'want me to tell you a secret about you?'
'no,' you'll murmur bitterly, but that won't stop him.
'see, you have this dark view of love and hearts,' he'll say. 'for one, you don't believe in love, or the fairytale happily ever after kind. because it always gets washed away, doesn't it? that's how you see it.
bleeding out.bleeding out.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i. there's blood everywhere. it's all different shades of red. crimson, scarlet, blazing ruby. darkened in some places. it's slipping into the water and adorning it pink.
ii. pink. thulian. rose. carmine. puce. (puce is a yucky word, it sounds like throwup.) nadeshiko. coral. persian. carnation. salmon. pink in the water and its slipping out over the whitewashed walls onto the floor and it's going to drip and go through the ceiling like that one time a couple years ago. i hope dad doesn't get mad.
iii. it doesn't hurt anymore.
iv. it's sunshine outside and everyone is smiling. i'm a kid again and the world is all crayons and swingsets and people and i can see butterflies.
v. promise me you'll take care of yourself.
vii. your smile is what's in my head. you had pretty teeth. they were white because you didn't eat the junk food that made me fat you wished you could though. diabetics never have any fun.
viii. i can practically feel my body deflating like a balloo
freudian slipsWhat I should have said wasfreudian slips6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Hello, you are gorgeous.
You were walking the corridors and I was leaning against a table and putting pressure on the screws and smiles holding up your defenses. You had no words spilling from your eager mouth, and my lips were all too happy to toe the line between suave and smug. There was something in the way you blushed when you divulged your name that made my heart skitter with nostalgia and optimism for tomorrow, but my larynx was conspiring to condemn me, drinking deep from the fountain of cynicism.
What I said was
What I should have said was
Your smile is contagious.
In the corners of my eyes, on the corner of a street, I watched your smile disappear behind teasing fingers, the curve of your mouth timid and hesitant to turn. You laughed at every stitch-and-scab sentence that I managed to produce, and every time my tongue began to twitch I gnashed my teeth to hold back my words. I prayed that I
For the ChildrenIf my spirit flies at the end of WinterFor the Children4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
go down every day to the soil and watch for the sprouts to rise
watch their green fresh moist leaves reach upwards to the sun
know in your heart their tender roots wriggle downwards to water
and if you think of me then, perhaps I am there
If my spirit flies at the end of Spring
go down every day to the moss beside the bubbling wood brook
feel your body sink into the soft greenness as you listen with care
know in your heart the song of the brook carries the healing of fire
and if you think of me then, perhaps I am there
If my spirit flies at the end of Summer
go down every day to the meadow where the fires burn bright
let your body feel warmth on one side and the other cool then turn
know in your heart the soothing warmth and crisp cool ride on air.
and if you think of me then, perhaps I am there
If my spirit flies at the end of Autumn
go up to the top of the lonely mountain where the world lies below
turn and turn slowly to hear the echoes of col
fair grading.rain rain you went awayfair grading.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
come back and flush me down the drain.
i sat in the middle of the road and my mind's in a drought
i've got the carcasses of words baking in harsh artificial light within me.
[i slur my words, but don't think it's because i've been drinking
i just don't know how to bring myself to say anything to you.]
we're walking down the street, puddles lit by street lights.
there are rainbows in the cement cracks, and your words are sparkling with magic.
'this is where dreams live,' you tell me.
'this is where dreams live.'
[if this is a dream, then i must be snow white, and not even your kiss can wake me up.]
twinkle twinkle little star
your explosion burnt my heart,
i'm collecting galaxies and dust in my jackets,
purely because she's no longer around to wear them when she gets cold.
i think my sinuses are extrapolating a long night from tissues, flaked into what i know
what i can't remember and what i can't forget.
we give our hearts suitcases
and tell them to just l
Six Words for a SlumpSix Words For A Slump:Six Words for a Slump2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You're tired, unable to create anything.
You feel angry; the anatomy's wrong!
Why won't these words come together?
"Nothing's right anymore, my hands tremble..."
Yet the solution is fairly simple...
I'm showing it to you now;
Break up your ideas, smaller sized.
They come together, like in Tetris.
Rotate the blocks; shape your art.
Draw chibis and stick figures too.
Instead of epics, try a haiku.
How about a six word story?
If your mind is blocked, overheated.
Let it cool; take it slow.
By attempting all the smaller things,
Your art is sure to grow.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th January 2013
soft.you saidsoft.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sky is a canvas,
and i have written
with its candles
(i love you)
and this truth
is soft, a whispered
is fragile, a run
away cloud, a porcelain
scratch and sniff...I will not bescratch and sniff...6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the end of my
for short shrift
your code is
we'll see who
Winter In WarsawWinter In Warsaw3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
She took my hand that stark winter's night
Somehow I knew we would be alright
Pale frost gives way to mid morning chill
I wait by the steps of her apartment block.
She smiles and waves from her windowsill
A quick kiss hello then we start to walk.
Down by the banks of the Vistula river
The sun takes heed to the falling snow.
A glint of her eyes sets my soul a quiver
The feeling she brings to my life I bestow.
The Mermaid statues put my mind at ease
In some ways they make me feel unafraid.
Blankets of ice cover the nearby trees
Huddled as one on the park bench we laid.
The world felt so right as we said goodnight
I took the tram home passing by Old Town.
A gorgeous sight Praga Północ shone bright
Like an uprising king reclaiming his crown.
December reigns down in a white flurry
We catch a show at the Tygmont Club.
The night grows old but we dare not worry
Taking in the music of this local hub.
We cut through Praski Park, all
DriftwoodDriftwood3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
around the dawn
as if begging
for a favor,
so smooth and sharp
worn bare by August -
a mermaid's rib
rubs salt from sand,
the battering lilt of seagulls
against the summer sun.
damn.you sit,damn.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
staring at cracks
in white walls.
and your only thoughts
are of this summer
how on diving boards,
how on friday nights
for a hole
in the sand
how red 'x's
and how turning
isnt always possible.