Who?When you're lostWho?9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Who will guide you?
When you're low
Who will lift you?
When you're troubled
Who will calm you?
Who will save you
When all seems hopeless?
Who will comfort you
When you're all alone?
Who will help you
When you've been hurt?
There is always someone there for you.
For when life seems worthless,
For when you feel like giving up.
When the whole world is on your shoulders
And when you feel lower than the deepest hole in the sea,
He will take the weight away
And raise you higher than the tallest mountain.
Nothing else compares to his love,
No one else can replace him.
When life doesn't feel worth living,
He will turn darkness to light.
Never will he leave you,
Never will he forsake you.
What more could we ask for
Than to have someone like him in our lives?
How could we ever doubt him?
He is the rock upon which we stand,
The sea upon which we float.
How could we ever try to replace him?
When you're in darkness
Who will guide you?
When you're in danger
Who will protect you?
AutodictareStăm faţă-n faţăAutodictare4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
întinse pe covor
de ore-n şir.
Îi vorbesc rar,
în propoziţii scurte
şi sentimente pe-nţelesul ei.
Ba chiar o atenţionez să nu uite
să-i deseneze lui i
ploaia de-un singur strop
deasupra capului său.
Îi spun când să pună între ghilimele
sentimentele pe care nu trebuie
să le experimentăm,
ci pe care trebuie să ne mulţumim
privindu-le cum sunt trăite de
Îi atrag atenţia când să pună virgulă
şi când să pună punct,
când să sublinieze
şi când să taie
cu două linii uneori chiar,
unii oameni, unele culori,
Şi i-am spus de zeci de ori
să nu scrie niciodată
puncte de suspensie,
să nu vadă ceilalţi
c-a rămas cu sentimente netrăite
Şi stau faţă-n faţă,
Scrisoare catre Alex IAlex, stau aici şi încerc să-ţi scriu, dar sfârşesc prin a desena jumătăţi de inimi, sferturi de petale şi suflete întregi. Deşi sufletele sunt mai mereu fărâmiţate. După ce le desenez, le colorez în negru. De ce? N-am idee. Închid ochii şi iau la întâmplare una din cariocile de pe masă. Mereu se nimereşte negru. Şi colorez în grabă. Depăşesc liniile. Mă enervez. Tai de şase ori după care mototolesc foaia. Privesc spre coşul de gunoi. "Dacă nimeresc, o să fie bine". N-am ratat niciodată. Şi totuşi, de ce nu e bine? Când ieri era? Când n-am pierdut nimic de ieri până azi? Când singurul lucru care s-a schimbat este numărul de bătăi de inimi?Scrisoare catre Alex I4 years ago in Letters More Like This
Cred că mi-e dor să mă joc. Vreau să mă joc de-a v-aţi ascunselea cu florile şi restul lumii
G. A. Y.G. A. Y.G. A. Y.5 years ago in Emotional More Like This
What is this word?
Does it mean I don't deserve anything?
Does it mean you're better than me?
Does it mean you can bash me? Hate me? Hurt me?
I barely remember the day mum told me my brother was gay. It hardly stands out at all. It didn't surprise me, didn't hurt me, didn't concern me. He was Jesse. He would always be Jesse. It hardly even came as a surprise. I never suspected anything but it made no difference if he was gay or not. Who cares if he liked boys or girls?
The next day though I remember very clearly. All it takes is a tiny little comment. Just one stupid 11 year old boy making some stupid comment about gays. I remember it so clearly. I broke down, inside. I wanted to tell all my friends that day that my brother was gay. How could I tell them now? I wanted to scream and cry, I wanted to make that stupid boy hurt for hurting me, for hating my brother, even though he didn't know. He didn't know that my brother was gay, he didn't think he was hurting anyone. Bu
Twilight in five minutesTwilight in Five MinutesTwilight in five minutes7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
BELLA: I'm dependent, weak, clumsy, and appealingly feminine.
MIKE: Hello, Bella. I'm your self-appointed lapdog. I will love you and worship you and protect you from harm and never leave your side.
BELLA: Piss off. Your obsessive, immediate devotion skeeves me.
EDWARD: I'm gorgeous, dark, mysterious, and appealingly masculine.
BELLA: Oh look, something male and physically attractive. Hello, Physically Attractive Male!
EDWARD: (Spotting Bella) --grumblesnarlgrowlglower--
BELLA: Oh no! Physically Attractive Male hates me! Whatever did I do to deserve such unwarranted hatred?
BELLA: How suspicious and heartbreaking that he hates me so. Oh wellhe's beautiful, so all his wrongs are to be forgiven.
Here, BELLA is nearly smooshed by a car. EDWARD, however, displays inhuman abilities and SAVES her.
BELLA: Edward! You saved my life! I love you!
EDWARD: (Muttering under his breath) --Darkmysterioussuperpowerssnarlsmirkswagger--
Deidara's Story Ch.5Chapter 5: "Revenge is beautiful, un!"Deidara's Story Ch.57 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The wounded boy flashed his trademark smile at his father. Why in the hell was he smiling when he had his throat practically cut in half?
The boy let out a maniacal laugh, but his father didn't see his lips move. He felt someone tap his shoulder, he turned around only to see...Deidara.
He glanced back at what he thought was Deidara, only to be having a clay replication in his grasp.
"You're not gonna get me that easy, un!" The boy bolted to his room, locking his door shut.
He collapsed onto his bed, hysterically laughing, holding his sides that were starting to hurt him.
His father, furious with blind rage, broke down the door and scanned the room. Nothing.
Nothing but an open window and a clay tablet, containing the words: 'See ya around sucker! Yeah!'
And within seconds, the tablet exploded. Deidara saw from the window as he laughed, "Revenge is beautiful, un!"
And with a heavy-packed school bag of clothes and school books, he jumped into the di
Deidara's Story Ch.7Chapter 7: Awkwardness.Deidara's Story Ch.77 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Light gleamed into existence through the leaves of the trees, shadows dancing on the pavement while the two boys walked on their way back to Sasori's house. "What the hell is in that bag of yours, anyway." The red head not meaning that in a question, at all. Deidara let out a sigh of irritation, the frustration completely taking over the tone of his voice. "My baka dad, he tried to kill me, un...and I had enough of him, so I blew the fucker's head clean off his shoulders... Yeah." That mischeveous creeped upon the blond's face again, but this time, tainted -- with the satisfaction...of murder. "So...you have all your clothes in it...evading the crime scene?" Deidara scoffed, shaking his head. "That's not a crime compared to everything my dad used to do. Un. But I guess so." The two approached a crowd of other teens, probably another fight again. Deidara wasn't interested in that stuff, only when he was in the fight, himself.
"A damn Uchiha is getti
Hetalia!OC Sheet: Land of CounterpaneHetalia!OC Sheet: Land of Counterpane2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Country: Land of Counterpane
Name: Althea Espiritua
Age: Unknown, but looks about 18-23 years old
Hair Color: Black
Hair Style: Long and Messy
Eye Color: one green (for health) and one red (for sick)
Weight: 95 lbs
A Tribute to DeidaraA Tribute to DeidaraA Tribute to Deidara8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You would have scorned me
If we actually had met
You would have laughed
At these poems I call art.
Afterall art is something
To be seen then to forget.
None of my written word
Would ever touch your heart
Or even stay within your mind
Nothing would stay if
I had given it you
You'd have torn it apart.
Yet I loved you
Not as I loved a person real
My love for you was
For me alone
A crutch for me to lean on
Nothing you could ever feel.
The best die young
Is something I have heard
I never used to believe it
Until the day you died.
Now you are, never to come back
Never to say another word.
Your moment of triumph
Your blaze of glory
Removed you from the plot
But not from my heart
I and several others will remember you
No matter what happens in the story.
Several others mourn as well as me
To hold our tears no we no longer try
The pain is there, but the tears are not
And every day, several voices rise
In your familiar and inspiring,
And to some annoying, battle cry.
WorthlessWorthlessWorthless8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
By Anna Nguyen Minh
Have you ever felt helpless?
Helpless over the fact you knew you were part of a reason why someone was hurting hurting all the time, really badly? Underneath the laughing mask, they were endlessly sorrowful, their souls bruised and wounded almost beyond repair.
Have you ever had someone tell you they used to fight for what was hurting them they fought for the culprit to understand, and out of consideration and love, repair their mistakes.
Has that person admitted they were just tired? Tired of giving all their energy away but having none of it returned? How could they recharge themselves, they asked. How can they find something to help them continue when it was themselves who were pulling themselves out of the bottom of the ditch every time? They would find something to hang onto, and the outside world would breathe a sigh of relief over the fact they were better, when in fact they werent.
Has this person told you crawling out of the di
Grandmother Spider Bears the Weight of the SunDecember.Grandmother Spider Bears the Weight of the Sun3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The solstice smells of wet soil.
A rising sea of dusk washes over her,
pressing on her mind
like her fingers press the lump of clay in her palm.
Grandmother keeps her hands busy,
forces nervous tremors into the small vessel
emerging like a snake
from the earth.
A bundle of flowers had held the sweat of her hands.
The trip to the hospital bore the scent of old leather,
worn bus seats
and lilies too long without water.
He'd been badly burned, they said.
His fingertips were flame-marked,
smooth and new-pink
when they came to change his bandages.
Grandmother flexes her parchment fingers.
Clay rims her wrinkled knuckles,
turns her hands to dusty grey spiders.
She clings to her secrets so tightly
her hands start to burn.
Her feet take her across the road from the bus stop.
In the Oklahoma fields, the long grass breaks against her legs,
the winds drag a tide toward her.
No moon rises tonight.
Grandmother lifts her eyes from the little clay pot in her hands,
eyes the stars
and the st
in quel buionelle chimerein quel buio4 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
fiere e severe
mi specchio mirando
i capelli di medusa
che attraggono e
aspetto il ritorno
di soldati sfiniti
con gli occhi immersi
nelle distrutte visioni
tali da togliere il sonno,
ti guidarono su valichi
irti e aspri
cammino in cerca
del futuro ambito
pagato a durissimo prezzo
misti a coerenze perdute
infangate dagli oceani
di ambizioni assassine
come echi del mondo
di conquiste del diritto
frastagliato da malvagità
senza nome o in nome
di ricattati corpi usati
come buchi da riempire
una strada in discesa
di essere in salita
vedendo il cielo all'ingiù
raccolgo i fiori
per ricoprire il dolore
pennellandoli di sole
con profumi di vento marino
venuto da lontani
lidi mai abitati
quei vestiti scarlatti
lavati con cenere di lacrime
buttati in un fagotto
lanciato dal treno in corsa
dimentica di chi eri,
They Died Too YoungThey Died Too YoungThey Died Too Young8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A Tribute to Haku and Deidara from Naruto
He was an angel
Pure as new fallen snow
Innocent, only a child
But now it will no longer show.
He died for the Demon
His watery blood turned ice
Eyes no longer filled with hope
He made the ultimate sacrifice.
Crying tears of ice and snow
The Angel and The Demon parted
What would their lives have been like
If this had never started?
He was an artist
Who sought only to be free
To work as he so longed
Tied to himself for eternity.
Too many died
By his works of clay
But that art was silenced
That horrid, fateful day.
No longer now to see him smile
Or hear his battle cry
Or see the life sparkle
In his unhidden eye.
But now it comes to pass
Their funeral bells have been rung.
Does it worry anyone
That they died too young?
He thinksHe likes a lot of things, but the things he likes best are the things he never talks about.He thinks7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
He likes winter, but he doesnt like snow and he doesnt like cold. He just likes winter. And its the same with almost every other thing he holds close. With this sort of mentality, it becomes obvious why he felt so strongly about this person. Because he liked this person. No even the word like doesnt seem right, it seems too not cliché, but just not right. If he tried to explain it to you hed probably have to satiate himself with the thought that you probably just understand what he means. But, anyway, he likes this person. Maybe even loves him but its a bit too early to tell. You cant rush these things. And he knows that he likes this person because he is overwhelmed with things he doesnt like about them. He doesnt like their piercings or attitude and he thinks that their hair is just a
Just RightYou held my hand just right and we fitted together like hand to glove.Just Right6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You held me just right and we fitted together like fitted sheet to bed.
You kissed me just right and we fitted together like peanut butter to mouth.
You loved me just right and we fitted together...
No words left to describe that four lettered word.
I love you is 8 letters long but so is bullshit.
I guess togetherness was over rated just like love.
Seafoam and Ash IIA 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 Ash II3 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.
Her name was Naida.
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
Refuge of MelodyThe wheel turns with a click.Refuge of Melody6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And the slumbering fire of rebellion inside the young girls mind is not seethed by the roaring call of rebellion;
By the burning torches and sharpened pitch forks;
Or the solemn hymn of an oppressed nation, ready to challenge the tyrant;
Nor is she a bud of the flower-adorned meadow of hippies, trading and treading on old values in favour of peace;
Nor part of a street gang, her pride and life locked in the metal heart of a gun;
Nor a conscripted soldier caught in a web of conspiracy and orders;
But a student, actually;
Seeking refuge from responsibility and stress with the voice of a sleek device through her headphones.
Electrical impulses morph into sound.
Soft melodies, soothing baritones,
Alternating between love-drenched imagery and harsh lyrics.
No reason to hide, cards laid clear,
Stamped with blood-smeared secrets,
Political strands weaved among the musical quilt.
Ugly and critical,
Censorships iron hand cannot erase all.
CryAnd I call outCry7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Out to this stone hallway
And I cry to the ceiling I can barely discern
And all I ever hear
Is a recurring echo
Echo of my cries, my own desperation
An echo rebounding from the concrete and stone
Not to be moved
By mere emotions
And I cry
To these unmoving walls
That will never react.
~ dedicated to the crying girl at the railway station