Breathless 2I have S t u m b l e d.Breathless 25 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
T r i p p e d.
F a l l e n. So far in love with you, I will never find my way back.
I C h e r i s h.
A d o r e.
A d m i r e. every detail about you. Every flaw and mistake will never make me think differently about you.
I C r a v e.
L o n g .
A c h e . for your touch. A simple caress from your fingers
Bright Love.The wind in my hair and the rain p e l t i n g down as I Splash through puddles on my was to meet you.Bright Love.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The highlight of my day even the rainy ones- is seeing you get off the bus and holding me tightly in your arms.
Butterflies t u m b l i n g around in my tummy when you say I love you.
You always manage to make my life b r i g h t e r.
Whether I had a fight with a friend
Was screamed at by my parents. Again.
You are the light in my soul and the even brighter light in my heart.
What is death really?The lights in the hallway flicker violently. The scuttle of slippered feet echo in my ears. The screeching is unbearable. Loud even through the cement walls.What is death really?6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Liar. Liar. Snitch, Snitch. Their crackly voices taunt me. Bony fingers trail over my neck causing me to cringe.
I need to get through tonight. I need the pills. The little orange ones that cause me the relief I need.
They calm so well. I hear the maniacal laugh as she slams her head against the wall. Harder then the last time.
Her name from my lips sounds foreign. I sob as I look down at her pretty face. Black hair splayed across her bloody face. Flesh unwinding from bone. The memory still so fresh in my mind.
I run my fingers through her hair. Once so silky, but now coarse and brittle. A smile fixed on her coral lips.
The mice gnawing on her pale toes and maggots spilling from her eye sockets.
Why poor darling you are looking rather pale, maybe I should call the doctor now.
I screech as the voices
NamelessA nameless creature jammed into a nameless space located in an unknowable location was all that stood between Experiment 726 and what he considered to be the Endless Stream of Creation itself. The creature was large and menacing, but seemingly beautiful to behold. Experiment 726 crinkled his eyelids at the creature that stood before him, frustratingly unable to comprehend all but the most simple adjectives about it. And yet… it was as clear as day and cold as night.Nameless3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Cold. That was something you could call it, 726 mused. It was one of a very limited number of describing words that he could muster about this impossible place, because no matter how much he looked or analysed anything, nothing seemed to make much sense.
“Why come here?” The nameless creature demanded. “And how? No creature such as yourself should even be capable of getting here.”
“I'm just lucky?” 726 tried. “I honestly don’t know.”
Sea LullabySea LullabySea Lullaby5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The old moon is tarnished
With smoke of the flood,
The dead leaves are varnished
With colour like blood,
A treacherous smiler
With teeth white as milk,
A savage beguiler
In sheathings of silk,
The sea creeps to pillage,
She leaps on her prey;
A child of the village
Was murdered today.
She came up to meet him
In a smooth golden cloak,
She choked him and beat him
To death, for a joke.
Her bright locks were tangled,
She shouted for joy,
With one hand she strangled
A strong little boy.
Now in silence she lingers
Beside him all night
To wash her long fingers
In silvery light.
the hungry look...the hungry look,the hungry look...3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the gully of your throat like wraiths,
we can feel you rusting, lost one;
i know that drainpipes and fenders
begin to crackle after winter wet
and that there’s a touch of snow
in all of us,
but no one,
no one could hold you as tightly as you do,
your whole body, bloodless in this arrest,
and if you will not let your fetters show
i will show you
there’s a place for going, and you haven’t gone there yet;
where quantum particles, once in contact, can retain a connection
even when separated
wander up to a stranger
with your shirt inside-out
and say ‘don’t mind me, i am just a deer come out to observe the world’
some strange magic, that once done, cannot let go
starspunobserving the romanticismstarspun3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of hooded cemetery kids,
smoking cigarettes pretending
they are not dead.
you were always so sure
about my uncertainty,
all my pick up lines
we built the heat
of the evening from the solidity
that two teens at the park
is the stuff of teen novels
(cliches dim on
our leaf-gold horizon)
your eyes darted
from the gray expanse
of the churchyard & wandered
i wanted to ask you
if i could follow. shove
the words aside &
remember that i came here alone.
i remember our innocence
in the static b e t w e e n
about how youth without you is th-
awing out the lines in my whittled-out eyes.
look to the hooded
wonder what we'd have been like
if we grew up as nothings,
like them. teenage
nothings with chiseled
marble in our
out of our parents' adulterated
lies and the excitement of alcohol.
i settle for a star.
it's almost as luminous
as the after
Ottumwa ShamanIn Iowa, weeping willows dream ofOttumwa Shaman5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tigers, born in pagan fog, their
Coat of stripes singing shaman
Songs; shrill symphonies of grief.
Heaven tilts, crashes, and we race
The dirt to get away. We drink the
Earth with bullets of air and grow
Dizzy, light-headed from breathing
Some far off flame. Perhaps a poet
Who braved the fog of Ottumwa, and
Caught fire. Every cowboy has his
Six chances before high noon, before
The fog forms wispy jackals to take
Them home again. Every son inherits
An empty gun, six voids to fill with
Answers, skimmed and guessed from the
Covers of books their fathers used
To read. There is no other way.
In sleeping, I have been to Iowa,
And I learned where wiccans go
To make their bed. I do not know now
If I had dreamed the weeping willow,
Or if it had bent low to dream of me.
In Iowa, there is no such truth, only
Depth, and the shaman's song of grief.
The Animal(Howl into my ear;The Animal4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
give me your claws.
I want the animal in you;
in you I shall nest.)
Take your clothes off, take them off for me.
Let me see the scars and the marks,
those dark moles and faint sun spots.
I want to memorize the way your fur grows.
I want to tickle my cheeks with your goose bumps.
Let me count the bruises and the cuts.
I'll bless them with names;
I'll lick away the blood stains.
We can lie skin to skin for days.
I have enough kisses for your brows and lashes,
for nails, teeth and toes, for thighs and knees;
in your curves and dents I'll nuzzle my nose.
Let me see your skin dance.
Through and around; your every breath performs,
through and around, an ancient holy chant.
I don't want your dreams; forget the ifs and the maybes.
All those regrets you carry are nothing but sad stories.
You don't have to utter a single word;
your body holds all the promises.
Don't tell me any secrets, hold your confessions;
just take your clothes off, take them off for me.
© 2012 melekelif
The Ballad of MulanThe sound of weaving, woman's chore--The Ballad of Mulan5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Mulan weaves on before the door.
But now the shuttle's noise is drowned
By Daughter Mulan's sighing sound.
"Who, my girl, is in your thought?
What memory has your mind caught?"
"No one is in Mulan's thought,
No memory has Mulan caught.
The night before, I saw the post
The Khan sent out to build his host.
In scrolls of twelve did they proclaim
The characters of Father's name.
But Father has no eldest son,
And Brother's not the eldest one.
So I shall buy a saddled horse
To take his place among the force."
Now to the East for valiant steed!
Now to the West for saddle's need!
Now to the South to take the reins!
Now to the North, the whip remains!
At dawn she bids her kin farewell,
At night she camps by Yellow swells.
No cries from family find her ears,
The Yellow River's flow is all she hears.
At dawn she leaves the Yellow waves,
At night those mounts of black she braves.
No cries from family find her ears,
The neigh of foreign horse is all she hears.
Three Billy Goats GruffGoats outwit a troll.Three Billy Goats Gruff3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
for onceColdfor once5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like the cavern where crimson vellum once resided
Drenched in reticence,
your empty blue eyes do nothing
but freeze the blood in these veins
surrounded by phantoms,
i lie in the dark next to your fading silhouette
between sheets that hold so many memories,
they are empty,
like the chestnut eyes that bore into yours
And as the rain falls harder
as it falls faster
washing down the streets
through deep alleys,
down endless roads,
i pray it takes me with
Anything you can find:"They're wicked," whispers Deputy Mack, when he thinks we aren't listening. "Beautiful, but wicked."Anything you can find:3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It makes Noah smirk from the front desk, where Clara Wynn, the dispatcher, is sneaking him sips from her hip flask while she profiles him. DePrince, she writes, Noah Thomas. Age: 12. Hair: Black. She puzzles over the color of his eyes before penning gray on the line, a rarity that gives us an edge, which we use like a scalpel. Noah flickers eyes like new nickels whenever we want something. Today is the Friday after the funeral and we are sick for answers, so we ask Clara if she will take our mug shots.
"I'll find some film," she says, disappearing into the back room. The door taps shut behind her. Deputy Mack and Sheriff Spellis are still arguing about us in the office, their voices a low rumble of contention, so we slip off our chairs and spread out through the station.
"Obituaries, photos, police reports," says Noah, fanning a stack of files across the desk. "Hur
When Dragons Die"It's on the beach!"When Dragons Die3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It's on the beach.
Amy Dale fingered the pack of cigarettes in the baggy pocket of her jeans as she moved with the rush of the crowd towards the lake, her mind fuzzy with shock. Could it really have come to this? After all these years of hundreds of people searching, working, chasing, probing, trying to pin down the elusive Loch Ness 'monster' - after all her years of work, studying and scraping by and manuveuring with difficulty through her scanty network until she was part of the latest team sent searching for it - all of that ended like this?
It washed up on the shore?
She left most of the crowd behind at the first ring of policemen trying to keep unnecessary people away from the 'monster.' Flashing her ID, she slipped through them and went forward more slowly, the wet ground squelching under her rubber boots. The bulk of the dead creature was perfectly visible now, rising in a steady curve above the heads of the people surrounding it, pointing and talking
the back of your head against my washed pillowcaseI find itthe back of your head against my washed pillowcase3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are the King
of my own Head
& that I am
by my own
My bones, your
to your insatiable
I find this
rebirths in my
three years of
the wrong gods
you are the best muse
for struggling artists
everywhere & worst
case of the bubonic plague
since the bubonic plague
I find you
in the middle
of any where,
I shot a flock
& ate Adam's
I remain ignor
ant and ignor
ed by you
I find Nothing-
& leave me be.
post-conflagrationoh, darling, look at us;post-conflagration1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
a crooked collection of
ashen-faced chaotic nobodies,
struggling to stand straight.
we used to burn so bright,
but we're just now learning
why no-one loves fireworks
after they've gone out.
Crown of ThornsShe wakes up with red staining her pillowCrown of Thorns2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the taste of blood like iron in her mouth
It stains her teeth and leaks from her lips, and as she
rinses her mouth out, she can’t help thinking that
it’s better than dirt and ashes
it feels like she’s wearing a noose
of broken promises and shattered glass
that tightens around her throat with every day that passes
She nails a smile to her face
and doesn't let herself think the word dying
The Soul Broker I am the buyer and seller of souls. I’ve bought them all and I sold you yours. For the world must run like the gears of a clock, and sometimes you tick or sometimes you tock, but everything given will be taken away and for every silence kept, a word must be said.The Soul Broker4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Naturally, you must assume there is cost. For everything gained, a penny is lost; of course this life can be no different--when the check arrives, you must pay the difference. But not all who ride on the sunday train pay the same price to get out of the rain: a king’s ransom might obtain far, far less than the pauper’s cheap pain.
Your father paid the price of sweat, a back bent under the yoke of the world; accrued worldly financial debt but was recompensed with the jokes of a girl. And he would say he walked away wealthy, with his empty bank account, for his daughter lives today quite healthy and loves him in equally large amounts.
StillHe was waking or he was falling asleep, neither, both at once. This was a dream. This was the only thing he had ever known. It made no difference, he trailed his own body like ripples after a rock, smoothing and breaking and smoothing again.Still3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
His feet moved tirelessly, without thought. No longer human, only the Walk was real. For minutes, or for months; time was fluid and distant. Walk.
He broke and a low mountain pulled him forward. Smoothed. Broke into flatlands, into shallow water. Into the evening, into the weak dawn.
Smoothed, back into the soft yellow lights behind his eyes. Walk.
He was not alone. This thought came from his bones, the heavy vibrations that shook them. It was something known, not something learned. It was like becoming aware of his own breath.
After a moment, without any real intent, his head raised. The yellow lights flickered. He could see three trees surrounding him. No, three hills. No. Three monstrous beasts. No. Three brothers.
He was waking after
Machine-Part SincerityShe once said to me,Machine-Part Sincerity4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Come. You be a gear right here,
and I'll be a pulley over there.
Together, we'll both obey
the lever's dream."
I lied to her when I said,
"I want nothing more."
The Importance of Gold FlecksHereditary.The Importance of Gold Flecks3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I learned the meaning of the word when I was young on a summer afternoon. Too hot to play outside, I was sitting with my dad on our blue couch with the small white polka dot fabric. In retrospect, it was probably a tacky piece of furniture, but love is unconditional when you are small, and I sure did love that couch. I remember my dad watching Winnie the Pooh with me every Saturday morning on its spotted cushions. That day, though, we had a conversation about eyes that I never forgot, and even then, its deeper meaning was not lost on me.
"Daddy, your eyes are green like a cat's," I said.
He smiled, and told me that mine were also green, but unlike his, they changed colors. "Sometimes they are blue. Your eyes were so blue when you were a baby! Big and blue.... Someti
A+Pyou bare your muscles,A+P3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
threaded in tight knots, bundled
but beautiful, yours
like those fibrous eyes,
irises in maple coils
unwinding me, as
a glance inside your lovely
skin, bones, nerves, I'd like
to press your pleasure
points, to scrape against your thighs,
my fingers trembling,
the dimples on your
shoulders, enzymes, waiting for
an induced fit, mine,
thumbs brushing your hips,
lips lain softly twixt your veins,
a complex of us,
your latticed, protein-
laden pulchritude, pleated,
folded into sheets,
await just one touch.