The Courier Eirik surveyed the impressive façade of the Temple of Myralo with concern, brow furrowed, fingers worrying the loose leather strap that kept his dagger in its sheath. It was certainly a pretty building. Everywhere he looked there was beauty to behold – from the intricately detailed vine-and-leaf patterns carved into the cloud-white exterior, to the elaborate mosaic of Prismeryl, Twin Deity of Beauty dominating the archway above the temple’s entrance.The Courier4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Hanging next to the ornately wrought gate into the temple’s courtyard was a “Help Wanted” sign. It, too, was beautiful, written in a light script by a steady hand, and assuring any applicants that the pay would be more than sufficient. Eirik didn’t doubt it. If there was one thing the Prismeryllian priests and priestesses were known for (and there were many things they were known for) it was being as free with their pocketbo
Who We AreWho We Are.Who We Are3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
We cant deny who we once were
because who we once were
made us who we are today.
sleep, as an elephant1.sleep, as an elephant3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it is strange to see you
older and out of love with me
it is similarly strange to see me
younger and out of love with you.
i want to
throw my arms around your neck
thank you for
leading me to believe in love,
thank you for
showing me what the cock does
when it crows and summons the morning.
thank you for laying in my bed,
breathing my breath.
thank you for laying in my bed,
with your head on my breast
listening to the fluttering
bird in its nest.
thank you for staining my bed-
with your salt, it was blessed.
thank you for leaving my bed,
giving my dreams to its next.
thank you for, out of all the rest,
choosing me as the first, remembering
me with the best.
thank you for june,
and then june again.
thank you for december, and
thank you for the time
that helped me break my body in-
thank you for two ticks
on the wall of not-forever.
thank you for june to june to december.
in a few years,
when you are older still and i am
getting even younger, i want to take
WhimperWhat do you think will happenWhimper4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When the world ends
Will it explode
Will we all be shot
Will we kick and scream
Brought down to our knees
Will we beg for mercy
Will we pray to a god
We all say the world
Will end with a bang
But really if you think
Our time will end
With a mother telling her child
It will be okay
With a brother hugging his sister
With a small voice
Or maybe with the strongest of man
Because the world will always end
With someone crying
With someone whimpering
Tombher heart stopped beating in the night,Tomb2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the arteries holding it in place let go;
it drifted until it reached her womb
a tomb dedicated to the stone child of heaven.
she washed her flat abdomen with holy water
and anointed herself with balsam and oil.
a medusa after athena abandoned her, broken
in the sea.
how to be a starving mani told him,how to be a starving man2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you have to
love a starving
woman, the kind
who feeds on
the way you
move and words
you speak, the
kind who has
forgotton she exists,
sometimes, but is
still achingly aware
of how she
does exist. i
told him, you
probably would love
her more than
you think. i
told him, she
loves you even
more than that.
Shipwrecked and Lostbroken and blue i crash upon your shore. shipwrecked. searching. lost.Shipwrecked and Lost2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
that which makes me who i am is scattered along the white sand;
my being no more than messages in bottles, scribbled on discarded paper,
hidden among the seashells and coral fragments.
i am tangled seaweed hair and tailless legs. white and bare. armourless.
with piano fingers reaching out to unknown horizons. eyes closed. wishes
imprisoned behind my locked lips.
unable to rise, i lay still. water lapping at my frame, kissing my feet.
gulls cry. wind whispers. laughter still faintly echoes from summer days.
footsteps are coming near. closer. and closer. a hand softly touches my back.
caressing. caring. a faint smile curls my lips.
you've come to take me home.
1.Social phobia;1.2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
n. My efforts drowning as
I smile in a cage.
TLWMsT 13Maybe if twenty billion people knew what song birds were saying,TLWMsT 132 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
maybe things would be a bit
This is not an Answer, it is a QuestionOver 100,000 Syrians dead. 400,000 Darfuris dead. 1 million Armenians, Assyrians, and Greeks dead. 6 million Jews and 5 million Eastern Europeans, gays, and other dissident Germans dead. 2 million Cambodians dead. 96,000 Serbians, Croatians, and Bosnians dead. 1 million Tutsis dead.This is not an Answer, it is a Question2 years ago in Editorial More Like This
Stalin once said, “the death of one man is a tragedy, the death of millions is a statistic.” Why do we insist on proving Stalin right? The numbers above bring nothing but numbness and maybe a hint of shock. There is no worldwide outrage. There is no serious effort to stop these massacres. Sure people gasp and shake their heads when they read the headlines about the Syrian Civil War and the UN puffs its feathers and shakes its finger at Assad, but his actions will simply be another ignored black stain on the pages of history. As Hitler once said, in an attempt to justify his own actions, “Who, after all, speaks today of the Armenians?”
A sign in the Holocaust museum reads,
HOW MANY BABIES DO BUNNIES USUALLY HAVEdon't delete my browser history when I dieHOW MANY BABIES DO BUNNIES USUALLY HAVE1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
instead, read it and write poignant poetry about the porn I consumed
and how it juxtaposed with google searches about hormones and the color of pears
Tomorrow Is Another DayHow can I dreamTomorrow Is Another Day3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When I'm hurt?
How can I smile
When I'm dirt?
How can I hope
When I'm forgotten?
How can I be
When I'm nothing?
I don't know how
But there are some things
That you just have to do
If not for yourself
Then for someone close
I don't know if these words
Will impact you, or set an impression
But take this advice
From an old cutter
It gets better, even if your life has melted like butter
You're not forgotten
You're always in someone's mind
You're not dirt
Cause to someone you shine
There is still hope for you
Even if your dream is broken
I noticed that
When the girl I loved, came even closer
Don't hurt yourself today
Cause you never know
Please, Don'tPlease, don'tPlease, Don't3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You don't realize
What will happen if you do
You speak to thousands
But you listen to no one else
Cut that wrist again
What pain you cause me
You scream for help
But you do not accept it
Don't make me
Build you your coffin
I don't want to paint you
With my misery tears
Don't do it
Life has so much more
To offer you
Just give it time
And times a bitch
But happiness will come
And trust me, it's worth the wait
Simple ThingI’d like to be an off-beatSimple Thing2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
syncopated little thing;
note and stem floating on the melody, just sitting in
appoggiatura, grace-note, special thing.
I’d like to be a sailor
swinging on the ocean wind
coarse old rope between my hands and salt-spray where my toes begin
nimble little sailor, clever thing.
I’d like to be a bed-sheet
gentle thing to warm your skin
thing that you hug tighter when the morning starts to filter in
falling through your creases, lucky thing.
Silver FoxAge has greyed his hair;Silver Fox2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
stress has plated it with silver.
It should wash him out, make him look older,
but it only highlights his vitality
and lends something sagely
to his blue eyes.
A broken heartA broken heart11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A life without someones beautiful love
is a very bad life of broken hearts
its like a kitchen without a small stove
a party without the delicious tarts
A broken heart can kill you deep inside
its time to make a whole new better life
it makes you feel like you've already cried
a solution to this is not a knife
Its just to take a new step tomarrow
to take a new life and fill it with love
for me to take you and take the sorrow
away from your heart to a field filled with doves
A broken heart can also be mended
a small broken heart then will be ended
ConfessionLips met in clumsy haiku,Confession4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
against each other, pressed,
the way the earth touches the sky,
soft and whimsy as the dusk.
Tongues painted passion-
halcyon atmosphere, infused,
-upon every awaiting space offered.
Metaphors dotted the hallows of limbs and tasted like the seasons-
a bursting and vibrant spring,
a hot and passionate summer,
an adventurous and teasing autumn,
a cozy and comfortable winter,
-all at once.
Skin smelled like Frangipani, an offering-
blossoming with intensity as the sun draped itself in twilight's shawl,
-and felt like a brick wall crumbl
Liebesleid Chapter 6 (Ib fanfiction)Why are you in this room?! How did you get in here?Liebesleid Chapter 6 (Ib fanfiction)3 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Get out. GET OUT!!!!!.
Ib...she burned her portrait with the lighter...it didn't hurt, really. She didn't have a concept of being hurt.
After all, she was only a fake. A faux little girl, pretty and happy with blonde, bubbly curls and wide blue eyes. The picture of innocence- but only a picture.
She didn't really know what any of these things meant though.
What was anger?
What was pain?
What was sadness?
She knew the words, but like a color-blind child, she was never capable of attaching any of them to the multicolored blend that raged like a thunderstorm in her head. After a while, the "feelings" arranged themselves neatly. She learned to use them, like masks, but the masks always fell off when people realized who she was.
What she was.
So she waited, and waited. The dolls, paintings, and books kept her company. Letters, words, and sentences that she automatically knew how to read were the only windows to a worl
Well, that went well...Flour? Check.Well, that went well...5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Um... all the other stuff Check? I think
I looked at the counter doubtfully. Baking was not really my forte. I mean, sometimes there was the occasional (and accidental) success, but other times well. It was probably best not to talk about it. It was a wonder that my parents let me bake after that little incident with the cookies... Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all?
I shook my head. No, I thought. It's his birthday, for crying out loud. I have to do something. How hard can it be?
Immediately I slapped myself. Well, mentally, at least. That right there was a sentence of doom. Anything that would come after those five dreaded words couldn't be good. Still I was rather desperate, and besides, I'm not exactly the luckiest person in the world. A little more bad luck won't really make much of a difference, would it?
"For the love of cod, just get to it already," I told myself reproachfully, fi
On my way homeBy Romy LaraOn my way home3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I exit the studio, sighing at the sight of the sun quietly hiding behind the trees and buildings. Turn to the right and keep walking. Cars are passing by, people in black suits get out from the nearest buildings; none of them care about their surroundings. I lift up my head and notice in big steel-letters the name of the company that owns that peculiar orange building in the corner of the street. It's the first time I see it. The sky is painted blue with some dabs of gray, just as if somehow the color of the concrete street had been absorbed by the clouds.
Behind me there's a couple discussing something about a house. She doesn't sound happy. And he's just getting mad. She shouts and speeds up, him trying to catch up with her, but it's futile. She is a very good runner despite her heels. The man glances at me. I toy with the white cable of my earphones and pretend I didn't hear anything. I pass him. He just stands there. I wonder what would he do now. But I have no time to