Silencio"¡Pero no dije nada!"Silencio2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
TeeterWhen I wake,Teeter1 year ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
among the stars,
on the brink
between dreams and reality.
It’s so easy
to see through the
between waking life...
and the power of Imagination,
that same other world
in a sea of dreams.
Sans regrets: Part II"I miss you."Sans regrets: Part II2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
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Two PoemsPainted over with the years’ blemishesTwo Poems1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Old. Battered. Familiar.
Case chased with filigree colored by tarnished silver
Kept in the bottom of my knickknacks drawer.
Even today, I can still feel the warmth of his fingers,
The heat where he held it, nested in the palm of his hand.
Winding the key, as he taught me to do,
Always counterclockwise, turning back the time,
Time measured in seconds, minutes, hours, days, years, and lifetimes
Colored by the memories of those who pass beyond it,
Held in reminiscence by objects left behind.
A fleeting messenger that heralds both
The birth and death of every plot and scheme,
That hopelessly entwines the strands of fate
And cuts the thread of life we all must weave
Can ne’er be understood through measured count,
Though every second ticked its weight has felt,
And when it swift is passing, this is but
A construct of our human minds in vain
Attempt to comprehend the limitless
And vast entwinéd river that is wrapped
Around our very being.
HelpTurning away...hoping you'll chase me.Help2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sans regrets"I love you."Sans regrets2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Message not received
A ClicheI wish I could sing you a love songA Cliche2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
about roses and stars and the rain
but I couldn't sing like the blackbird in spring
so I think I will simply refrain.
I wish I could tell you a story
about beauty and trust and my heart
but all I could say's what they say every day
So I don't even know where to start.
I wish I could write you a poem
'bout the birds and the bees and my bed
but all I would write's being said every night
So I wrote you a cliche instead.
Forests of the Mind"And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything." William ShakespeareForests of the Mind1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the forest my thoughts
ring unnaturally loud,
like a voice on
an open stage
when nobody’s around.
Stories unfold in my mind,
new leaves in the spring
unfurling from pale green buds
like butterflies emerging
from their chrysalis,
the pages of a never-ending saga
written in birdsong
and soft, wind-rustled branches.
My mind flows like the brook,
smoothing the rough edges
of my narrative, fluid and free
until time catches me
and my thoughts are drawn irrevocably back
into the endless revisions
of the real world.
Brushing Up Against HistoryNovember 1963Brushing Up Against History3 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
I'm eight years old and sitting in class (I strangely recall that my seat was in the middle of second row, on the side away from the window), when the principal comes in to tell us that the president has been shot.
I do not know
what it means, but I know
that it scares me.
My mother meets Senator Robert F. Kennedy while he is campaigning in San Francisco and gets his autograph. I live with my father in a small town in Michigan, where every year leading up to Memorial Day, I sell paper poppies for the VFW.
blood of soldiers on the field
war has come home
I watch the news and see the body count, arranged like a scorecard. The numbers say we are winning, but one of those numbers is from our town, the only casualty that week. I don't know him, but I see his picture on the cover of Life Magazine.
I turn 17 the next month
and try to join the Marine Corp
my father will not sign
As a small-town b
She promised him forever....Forever never lasts long, does it?She promised him forever.2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Growing UpSix-year-old calls from college.Growing Up2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
CrowBarGot hammered.CrowBar2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The Boy in the CornerHe curls in the corner of the lit-up room,The Boy in the Corner2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
watching from the shadows
The women, they laugh, with pearls 'round their necks,
And men in fine suits sip from delicate glasses
Golden chandeliers hang from the ceiling
as society's elite mingle seamlessly
And the boy-
his face is unwashed, his hair unkempt,
but he watches, and he learns
and he sees
So he makes a vow:
Never be like them, the ones within the light,
the ones walking past his corner without a glance,
the ones laughing their polite, gilded laughs,
the ignorant, the ones never knowing
what it was to reside within darkened corners
That vow is kept:
the rest of his days is spent in the darkness,
lonely, bitter, not knowing what it was
to live within the light-
but he is never like them,
and that is consolation in itself
Wherever it's Christmas (p.6)The Doctor, Amy, and Rory have decided to cook Christmas dinner in the Tardis kitchen. But the Tardis kitchen was built by Time Lords...Wherever it's Christmas (p.6)2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Amy handed each of them a sandwich.
"Is this all we get?" Rory asked. It had been a long time since tea.
"We're cooking for tomorrow. Deal with it." She bit into her own sandwich and took a drink of her orange juice. She plopped down wearily in the console room chair. She set her glass on the floor and shucked off her old-fashioned shoes.
She massaged her toes while she ate her sandwich. Rory sprawled in the other chair and the Doctor perched on the steps between them. He was picking the pickles off of his sandwich one by one and eating them.
"So now what?" he said, running out of pickles and taking a bite of his sandwich.
"Don't tell me," Rory said. "More shopping."
Amy scowled at him. "Well, we at least need a grocery list."
"Nope!" the Doctor said. "This time the Tardis has everythi
Artist Blue - If It's AlienArtist Blue - If It's Alien2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
The old woman pushes the book across the counter, "There you are, miss."
A young woman picks up the book, a story of adventurous pirates, one of great fame: Treasure Island. She's never read the book before, despite her near obsession with literary works. She stares at the cover for a short period, the image of the pirate captain and the young boy approaching a beach speaks volumes onto it. She opens her tiled rainbow satchel and places the novel kindly between her school science book and notebook, which are surrounded by miscellaneous items placed in careless areas. She leaves the library, a light smile upon her gentle pale face. She pushes her blonde hair from her face as she steps down a small flight of stairs. The free hair brushes annoyingly against her blue hoodie. She grabs her hair and ties it up to cause less self-disturbance. The snow is finally melting in the town of which she resides, she walks patiently to her home, about ten minutes into this walk she pulls out the book i