This, I knowI know that breakfast isn't necessaryThis, I know1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I am not an echo of my sister nor am I confused,
I know that culture is stupid
in thinking that poetry has no life of its
own, that unicorns and dragonflies don't live in our hearts,
and that orange juice and chocolate
taste exactly the same.
I know that life has endless mysteries and insane parallels.
Rage is a lot like passion and passion is a lot like rage.
That and an orange and gray striped sock somehow matches
the blue and pink polka-dotted one.
I know that pianos and violins sound a lot like music
but are really a sign that not everything is black and white.
That and trumpets and clarinets are best friends.
I know that there is only one doctor
that I would let cure me.
And there's only one set of parents
I would let help me.
That and spiral notebooks are the devil's handiwork.
Above everything else,
I know that it's all
very, very, complicated.
A Fragile Lifeheady beats flow into his ears, each music noteA Fragile Life1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
a dream fluttering to the forefront of his mind
obliterating the darkness of the world
trying to encroach his every thought.
clunky earphones, the only ones he could afford
sit on his ears, blocking any untoward noises
like the screams from downstairs
and the sharp thuds from the room next door.
slick rhymes pulse through his mind,
temporary escapes from the maze of
treacherous timesevents rather not remembered,
best forgotten within the sands of time.
background vocals implant wells
depths of azure hope and cerulean freedom
springing from the undiscovered realms of his mind,
watering the seeds that others hope to harvest.
hip-hop flows through his veins;
the life-blood of his mind, of his sanity
the words, the rhythms, the voices
control his limbs, moving them every which way.
dancing used to rule his life
the rule shattered the same as his leg;
mere remnants survived to instill his passion
Monologue of a traveller.Monologue of a traveller.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
A shadow lingered on the shattered walls,
swaying in the light of the crescent.
He claimed to having answered destiny's calls,
so he gave life to places long quiescent.
But gods had been merciless to his young age;
throughout the traveller's endless route
they had made apparent their growing rage;
hidden dangers appeared from the bruit.
He held onto sanity's smallest grain
fingers slipping through invisible ropes.
Broken symbols are all that remain
after the illusion of cruely stolen hopes.
His conscious is now much too frail,
and his words are now much too sinuous.
His impregnable diligence to no avail,
and his frenzied monologue continues.
August WatersSlipping silently,August Waters10 months ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
the water on their scales--
deep sea mermaids.
Dreaming IvoryI dreamt you were a poetDreaming Ivory10 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
running from the moon--
morning of pale spring.
Robin SongsIce on the window;Robin Songs10 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
a red-breasted robin sings,
Flirting with SpringDripping paint splotches--Flirting with Spring11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
a snowy owl flits across
a crescent moon.
ShamefacedEarly morning cloudsShamefaced11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
part like covers; running late,
the sun blushes pink.
Jaded GoodbyesThe forest colorsJaded Goodbyes11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
me periwinkle, sunlight
catching in hurt eyes.
FlatliningPebbles skip acrossFlatlining11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
flat waters, the rippling
of summer's mistake.
Dignity EscapingSoggy paper boatDignity Escaping11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
follows sunset across tame
waters, tracking souls.
Absent ShadowsBonsai tree shadowsAbsent Shadows10 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
stretch across faded wallpaper,
closing the day.
Eclipsing the RainRibbons of raindropsEclipsing the Rain11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
caught in the headlight's glare; stars
breathe their wishes here.
Deep Sea DivingA distant red dwarf--Deep Sea Diving11 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the scales of a koi flashing
through an oil-spill sky.
And I thought I swore off poetryyou know, i thought i swore off poetryAnd I thought I swore off poetry1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and then i went and read all that god awful
lovey dovey stuff
and i felt like i needed a little redemption
'cause to err is human
to forgive is humane
but to say "love" in a poem is the lowest form of literature
'cause it just kind of eats at you
like acid on a murder victim
like acid rain on a wet umbrella
it eats you away when you write about love
'cause what do you know about love anyway?
you've "been in love"
but you've done a poor job of loving
i guess you can't give what you don't get
and i don't hold it against you
Three Ring ShowThere are days they think the sweetest sound isThree Ring Show1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
These are the days they wonder at
And revel in.
To him, they are the days of his circus girl,
Who swept him up and took him away.
The girl who walked the rope and showed him
There is more to learn.
To her, they are the days of her horse boy,
Who slowed her down and walked.
The boy who loved the fight
But also gave her soft reprieve.
These are the days of comfort
When they feel their shelter keenest.
These are the days of three rings
Haiku #1 FuyuImagine the snowHaiku #1 Fuyu1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Falling like your limp body
Into cold nothing
Mary"She lived in this houseMary1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
years of her life."
Climbing the same creaky
stairs and fearing
the same dark
A simple white house,
(think American Gothic).
Our narrating detective
came to inspect the body,
but his presence seemed missing --
there was no glass in the frames,
only screens in the windows,
protruding nails instead of
Except for one cracked mirror,
leaning lengthwise on the bedroom floor.
So old, naught but a penumbra
on her porch, "she spent
most her seen time wearing a veil"
in an alabaster rocking-chair --
always moving but
"Once lithe and lively, Old Mary
was once Savannah's sweetheart."
Helter-skelter, in youth, men
pursued but she was known for
her unrefined denials.
"Never married, never cared to."
Loved far and wide and deep,
but by none more than
Subsequently the sons of her dejected
suitors were taught to detest her.
Beauty is temporary,
she learned better so than anyone.
All see their own mold
One a Day at 10 AMLife as she knew it was over.One a Day at 10 AM1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
One risky night rendered her dreams of stardom aflame. She'd been fighting so hard to get out of the Podunk town she'd grown up in, and now the test in the trash bin would tether her to the world of PTA meetings, frumpy clothes, and dull hair. Escape wasn't an option anymore.
It had been her boss' fault. He had to talk to her about misplaced papers alone, after work. She kissed him first. If it hadn't have been for the look he gave her, she wouldn't have ever done anything more than that. She wasn't that kind of girl...
except she was and the stupid pills didn't work the right way. One a day at 10 AM. She happened to miss one freaking day and look what happened. Her Hollywood dreams were gone.
This little thing inside of her was going to grow and when it did, it would take over everything. It'd be like weeds in a garden, covering over everything. It would creep into every facet of her life. Every single conversation would revolve around it. Her wardrobe wo
NoahAccording to a one Mr. Iddall,Noah1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
the smartest boy
in our class
was a boy named
was the type of boy
who, when he learned
that studies revealed
writing done in all capitals
was indicative of higher
kind of kid.
became the type of
man whose back
It's true, he
was the best.
And, naturally, we
always felt sorry for
lovesongif you've got the time, sweetheart,lovesong1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i've got the love
and no one needs to know the whies
the whens are up to you of course
and we can be beautiful together
and if we happen to be tone-deaf, well
there are intervening seas, love, but we are oceans of ourselves,
and through tides and inlets and streams rushing headlong
from the peaks
to fall in veils and land catsoft
and tumble through the subterranea
collecting gold dust and all the
little particles the light has never seen
and somehow connecting
somewhere inside that hungering expanse
because you see, love
just a couple droplets, you and i.
Finger-paintingI am finger-painting;Finger-painting1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
blending yellow into blue
Your smile shines through (my dullness)
nature is birthed in the collision like
delicate shoots of freshness upon my finger tips.
Your zest is so wildly wonderful -
the softness of liquid sunshine immersing
my soul beneath a window of happiness.
You are the silk breeze, pouring milkily upon
my skin, and
You pour into me as I rest in this
and it is so super
natural life in all of its fullness.
I am fingerpainting with the beauty of Your heart.
Borrowed SpaceThere’s something about apartments that feels second hand. When we moved, our neighbor gave us plates with apples printed on them. Their colors have faded into a chipped sigh. They would have gone with our old kitchen—we had red curtains and apple-lined wallpaper. She got those plates from the bank, a gift for opening up a new account. Probably the same bank that took our old house. Will they want the plates back, too?Borrowed Space1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I shelved the plates with the tired, mismatched coffee mugs. The blue, flowered ones are from Grandma—she didn’t want them anymore after her husband died. The clouded grey mug came from the machine shop Dad worked before he got laid off. The checkered, lavender mug was a Mother’s Day present to my mom when I was in fourth grade. It was one of the few things she left behind after she moved.
Our thrift store couch looks weary, as if it’s tired of moving from place to place. The dark blue cushions sag in the center and its arm