Of Men and MetaphorsIt was a dark and stormy night.
Really, I mean, you ever heard an interesting story that started on a sunny day with mild cloud cover around an hour or so before dinnertime?
Exactly. Moving on.
The air held a coldness that seeped through brick and stone. It crawled through flesh, freezing blood in icy veins, chilling bones like a slithering ghost in the blackness.
...but not so cold that it was a snow-storm. Cotton candy floating down from an inky sky, shining like diamond eyes in the starlight as soft flakes swirl and dance on feather-light feet in the breeze...
Not quite the image we're looking for.
Rain lashed from the depths of the cruel heavens, wind whipping from the starless smothering blanket above. Thunder roared in fury, cracking alongside his bright lover as she streaked her fire to the lonely earth.
Yes, lightning is a chick. It makes sense. Hair of white-gold light from her glowing moon-face, gown of silver thread spreading down her lithe figure, hem sweeping against the c
Breaking Down and AwayMy Venus has lost her arms,Breaking Down and Away4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she says she can't hold me.
She says she's been breaking
and my hands cannot fix her.
She says she has pieces missing,
and that I cannot fill them.
She says she feels cold
and that I cannot warm her;
but I try so desperately--
and we break against each other.
Simply NothingDrip, drop, drip, drop. She watches each droplet fall gracefully through the air and sink into the soft fabric, staining it with an unsavory mixture of salt and mucus. Instinctively, her feet are pulled to her chest; avoiding the slightest possibility of dirtying herself is second nature to her. Words are tumbling everywhere, tripping over each other, but not a single one reaches her ears. She simply watches as they form, refusing to digest any meaning they are supposed to have. There is nothing she doesn't understand about sickeningly white room, with its menacing machines and janitor's closet smell. She knows and accepts it all.Simply Nothing3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Tick, tock, tick, tock. How she hates the mocking rhythm of that disgusting clock on the wall. Its vibrancy doesn't fit with the dullness of the room anyway. so what is it doing here? It can't be ignored; in fact, it makes everything else blurred, like her glasses are foggy and only one portion has been cleaned. The plain black chair, the clutte
Inside Out.Inside Out.Inside Out.2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Do you love my insides?
You know the parts you can’t see.
The parts that constructively divide,
All the places where you can’t be.
Do you love my internals?
You know all my unexploited crevices.
All the words I leave out of my journal.
The soft tissue areas that offer no benefits.
Do you love my fleshy, raw fillings?
You know the boring and bloody parts.
The features that are not made for kissing.
The invisible strokes that add to this body of art.
You see it’s my exterior that attracts you
But it’s my interior that made this possible.
So when my insecurities inadvertently attack you,
Don’t be so swift to class me as distrusting and illogical.
I need to know and to understand.
That you truly love me for who I am.
Even the parts of me you cannot see
Because those are the places where I want you to be.
The Orchid of SpringThe orchid of spring flowers bloom againThe Orchid of Spring3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Through thick and thin they grow
Weathering the shimmer of bountiful rain
But whether they last is unknown
The spring flower orchid they blossom with cheer
And gleam their radiant colors
Amidst winds and sunset, they reap without fear
And flush away angelic tears
The orchid of spring flowers,
a tiara worn with pride
By Nature that guarded all the lands,
in humor, with gentle strides
The blossoming flowers of the orchid of spring,
With innocent children falling sway
To listen to the sweet cheer of rustling leaves
And the birds merrily chirping
As the clouds make way for the eye of the Sun
With Helios embracing leisure
While the children were busy in their games and pleasure
He smiles upon this priceless treasure
This priceless treasure that Nature bestowed
But alas, my dear, now we must part
And bid adieu to the spring flowers
I pray that I live to marvel these showers
Nature's beautiful treasure, with whom I must part
Oh dearly beloved, farewell
UnfoundedI cram words within murky, hollow spaces,Unfounded3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
replicating ways in which blood fills a wound.
I squeeze articles and adjectives
supporting metaphors and similes
into tight-fitting corners,
until that which is empty begins to bloat.
The ache of something missing,
the loss of one internal, now painfully unknown:
it finds no satisfaction within passion
and phrases so desperately created, upheld.
Why give transparent, misleading hope
Does pleasure derive from humiliation
the catalyzing of previously weakened hearts?
Where is the limit of cruelty defined,
if not in the cries and weeping of dreams:
Language wilts on my fingertips,
turns to ash in my mouth
the gorge in my throat which partakes in
how significant is agony endured within silence,
inside pitiful thoughts?
It is nothing notable of specific emotion,
only biting veracities upon repetition
and foolish belief:
"I am no poet of words."
CosmologyShe left galaxies on his pillowcaseCosmology3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
where she slept the night before
of make up colors,
smudged and smeared,
blurred by silent tears
the stars leaked out with the saline
along with the residue of dreams
that she never meant to have.
Chips of polish decorate his bed sheets,
from her chewed and broken nails,
after scratching at the too-low ceiling
and his too-close back
while she slept fitfully,
searching desperately for space.
Autumn's Echo of PassingRows of dried corn stalks bendAutumn's Echo of Passing3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with the wind that
thirsts for rain
that will only come when it has died
and the ears of corn cease to rattle.
And the thunder's distant laugh
will chase after the snakes
heading for their mounds on higher ground,
their husks abandoned-
the flash floods may yet pass them by.
N o v ai.N o v a3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This distance between us
is devouring my lungs.
I'm left here gasping,
trying to suture back together
all the broken nights-
the cigarette burns in my bedsheets.
I'm tracing maps on my limbs,
and I'm painting black holes on my palms,
pressing them into letters
left on my nightstand
untouched and unread.
I keep telling myself
none of this is about you.
But I'm reaching for empty galaxies
as I try to remember what it felt like
to be one of a binary star.
Light-years away, and I'm here-
just another nova on your ceiling,
searching this vast universe for you.
One Big Happy FamilyOne Big Happy, Slightly Crazy and Not Altogether Normal, Family - An Avengers MinificOne Big Happy Family3 years ago in Humor More Like This
Sometimes, Steve felt like he was the father of the Avengers, always looking out for the other members, trying to keep them out of too much trouble, and generally keeping things in order. He was the one who kept Thor from smashing coffee mugs, stopped Natasha from strangling the pizza guy with her thighs, and jammed Clint's quiver whenever he threatened to blow up Tony's stuff with his explosive arrows. Needless to say, he was kept busy a lot of the time.
If he was the father, he mused one day, then Bruce was the protective older brother who kept a watchful eye on the others from a distance. He was quiet and reserved most of the time, but if any of them came into harm's way, Steve knew he was there, ready to jump in and protect them if needed.
Clint and Natasha were the unruly twins, constantly bickering yet clearly fond of one another, completely inseparable with all the inside jokes th
PainTo some, pain is nothing more than a hindrance,Pain3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Something that makes their lives uncomfortable.
To others it is something they try to avoid at all costs.
But to me, it is something different.
Pain reminds me that I'm still here, and I'm still feeling.
Lovers Of The NightStrangers out of sight,Lovers Of The Night3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Are like a pair of lovers dancing,
When dying daylight turns to newborn night.
Hearts pound as they start their ritual of romancing,
By tears on train-tracks where no hate could be tonight.
Was their pairing of love so naïve?
That their passion became a pain to prolong,
Forever feelings distorted as to who to believe.
They never knew it was meant to be wrong,
But birds break the morning mist with sweet song.
Lovers out of light,
Are like a couple of strangers kissing,
When sombre sunlight turns to melancholic moonlight.
Minds beat as they decease their cult of consorting,
By roars of railways where no sorrow could be right.
Was their daring of hope so ignorant?
That their wonder became a wound to wake,
Ever emotions contorted as to what they want.
They never knew it was meant to be forbidden,
But young yearnings should not keep heartbeats hidden.
The World of My DreamsOut of the grass sprang gentle handsThe World of My Dreams3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that carried me over a field of clovers
And I drifted beneath the clouds,
gazing in the idle wonder
that creeps upon men like curling ivy
There was no bluer sky than that day,
and the trees-
there have never been more hearty trees
than the giant oaks towering above me
as the hands carried me further-
And when I awoke in this mysterious land,
I breathed in the scent of moist grass,
relieved to find that it was not just a dream,
and that the world in which I lived
was as beautiful as the world of my dreams
5 Dresses To Undo ShikamaruAuthor: Sand-Jounin-Temari5 Dresses To Undo Shikamaru4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto
Pairings: ShikaTema, slight InoChou
5 Dresses to Undo Shikamaru
Another day in the office. The beeping of the fax machine, the clicking of the mouse, the fingers pressing on grime covered keyboards and the slow sips of coffee. The SunaKonoha collaboration committee are working around the clock, trying to keep their ties strong and import whatever necessities there may be. The employees range from clumsy nineteen year olds, finally having found a job as the lunch deliverers to the old age-near retirement who are sick of the job. In the middle of these groups are the rising stars, usually around twenty three to twenty seven.
I hate this job. Time goes by agonisingly slow, always the same thing over and over again. It's my first day working with the collaboration committee. I'm usually downstairs dealing with deliveries and numbers. Not now though. The boss decided that my "tal
01. accomplished. go - caWhile Aziraphale had many talents, and many of them God-given, his artistic ability when it came to magic tricks had never been part of the bargain. Crowley could hardly imagine that, somewhere up in Heaven, He had seriously pointed a finger at the angel and bellowed in his mind, He always bellowed, for there was no other tone of voice that struck fear into even angels, except, perhaps, Aziraphale's what-have-you-done-Crowley-and-with-whom voice, which tended to strike fear into him, let alone to angels something like, 'and by thy powers vested in mine finger, thou shall be awarded with the talent for mediocre Sleight of Hand and Rabbits Procured From Odd Places trick'.01. accomplished. go - ca5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Then again, it had been a while since he'd Sauntered. Things might be being done differently these days.
Aziraphale produced a card and waggled it in front of his eyes.
The fifth of spades. If it had been a movie, the card would've been symbolic; nothing he could think of could tie into the fifth of
You'll be the death of meMy ghost, I really shouldn't giveYou'll be the death of me3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
myself to you -
I don't belong in your arms
I've always known - but you;
You are haunting me.
You and Me Against the WorldI'll be nineteen and he'll be twenty-one. He'll be made of scars and half-truths, and I'm sewn together by unfinished stories and abandoned inspiration. They'll say it's wrong because love can't bloom from a broken past. But their warnings will fall on deaf ears because you'll be staring into my eyes in a way that whispers, "It's you and me against the world." So I'll take your hand, our fingers and destinies intertwining to create a whole new adventure.You and Me Against the World3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The first months will be spent in a cramped apartment, bills and heated arguments piled up to the ceiling. I'll cry some nights because you're never home, and I'm fearing the worst. You'll walk in the door at two a.m. one morning, and I'll be in the bedroom, tears and old memories flooding my eyes. And I don't know what will be special about that night, those tears, but you'll break down. You'll hold me and apologize until your voice is hoarse. "It's you and me agai
03. aggressive. go - caIt is a general fact accepted among the police stations of Britain that the streets, on particular nights such as Tuesdays and at particular times eight to two a.m. are very dangerous to be on. Universal patrol cars could be implemented, an entire breed of sleepless policemen developed, their only purpose in life to write out tickets and march the roads like many schools of ants with high-powered weapons, and the roads would still be dangerous to play on.03. aggressive. go - ca5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
There was something about the dark that brought out the worst in everything that resided in the middle ground.
Rats scuttled in the dark; spiders spun their rainbow webs; humans prowled and preyed on humans. The darkness hid it all, and left it for the horrified light to find the body of a murdered woman, face down in a puddle of glass and needle-thin grass, the ripped-apart body of an alley-cat feasted on by a crow, and multitudinous webs that danced with dewdrops and sun-beams. Yes. What generation
Just WaitShe sat at her small wooden table, sipping bitter coffee from her small porcelain mug. Why even own a two-person table if it only had one person to serve? She had even bought the two chairs that came with it...then again, she had expected the other chair to be filled. That didn't work out.Just Wait3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She loved him. She really loved him. As in, it wasn't just a crush. He was beautiful, inside and out, and amazing, and gentle. Almost perfect. But nothing's perfect.
He had been honest, told her that he couldn't handle a relationship at the moment. That he loved her. If only he could make 'them' work.
She sighed, stirring her coffee with a spoon for no particular reason but to figit. She was always thinking about him at this hour in the morning, and she certainly didn't know why. It was probably the empty chair. If only her thoughts would stop pestering, it gave her a headache, one that sometimes stayed all day.
Did he even care? Maybe he had made that all up, to make her feel better. Or to get her o
Paternal InstinctsPhil Coulson was more confused than he had ever been in his life when he was called into Fury's office and the man greeted him, with a small blond boy asleep in his arms. Fury had his back to him and was rocking back and forth slightly in an almost paternal way. Coulson wouldn't have even seen the small boy if it hadn't been for his head resting on the mans shoulder. There was something familiar about his face but Phil couldn't quite place it. "You needed me, sir?" he said when Fury didn't say anything.Paternal Instincts3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The Director turned to look a him and motioned for him to speak softer before he began to speak himself, voice barely above a whisper. "Yes. It's not much different than what you usually have to do, but I need you to look after Agent Barton."
Phil should have seen this coming, Barton always needed surveillance for one reason or another, usually do to his own stupidity. "Of course. Where will I find him?"
"Right here," Fury answered motioning to the child in his arms and Coulson's jaw dr
Fields of DesolationI sit in the field of ash, its dust slowly falling through my fingers where the flowers use to be. Why has nothing grown back? I don't understand why this part of my world is not healed yet. Even the theater and mausoleum have been reconstructed. This is the only place that remains so desolate.Fields of Desolation4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I hear her before I see her. That little girl in the blue dress with her curly gold locks and her innocent eyes. Turning, I pull her into my arms. So quiet, so reserved now. Nervousness shows in her eyes, the little twisting of her hands. Cradling her tiny body in my arms, I let her sit in my lap as we stare across rolling hills of gray.
"Everything is still so sad." She whispers, clutching on to my neck like a lifeline.
Stroking her hair, I nod quietly. Keeping her calm, I look up to the sky. Nothing has been the same since the day these same fields burned. An air of sadness lingers here, and that poison has kept the grass and flowers from blooming back. Sky blue eyes turn to my own
InsomniaA miniature moon floats sleepilyInsomnia3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
atop my open window;
a drifting continent sifting
over shivering tree tops.
Watery clouds explore along the
broken crest of atoms,
fingers rolling in the shadows
of its dimensions.
My skewed sight steadily begins to
repaint the scattered stars and
one by one like raindrops,
they burst across the sky
Breathing down in thoughtful shafts
upon the inside of my eyelids.
I'm thankful to be an insomniac.
Julius, You Poor Bastard, You Never Saw It ComingYou heartless coward,Julius, You Poor Bastard, You Never Saw It Coming3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You damned bastard.
I believed all your lies,
But your blade was my demise.
You smiled and always said okay,
Until that awful day.
I could not believe it,
But I will not forget.
I will see in the depths of hell,
I will wait and wish you nothing well.
You will pay for all you've wronged me,
Your flesh will will burn for an eternity.
Your skin will tear and I will taste your blood,
I will your slit wrists just to make it flood.
How could you?
I will have my revenge!
A Requiem to The SkiesA Requiem to The SkiesA Requiem to The Skies3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The skies went dark ; it's going to rain sooner than I thought
Dark cloud of shades overwhelmed the blue sky
Took place the sanctuary where birds once sang their praise
Along with angels do they recall, forever
The skies went dark ; it's going to rain sooner than I thought
Shearing cold frost along with raging wind
Blew ever strong the hurricane might be
My heart beat fast ; so loud to be heard none
The skies went dark ; it's going to rain soon I thought
Hide yourself alone by the midst of delving deep
Where things seemed to be safe and fine
Unless you want to touch that door
That door ; he wouldn't be pleased
VariablesVariables4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Written by The Descendant
The birds sat chirping, their squeaks and squawks sounding out into the cool afternoon. As the little birds danced about their feet made skritch-scratch-skritch-scratch-skritch-scratch sounds upon the stone. As they roosted there and began to doze the sun fell upon them, warming the surface beneath them.
For few moments they stood there, letting the sun wash over them, resting in the meadow as the morning wore on into afternoon. They went on about their day, snapping at flies that came up from the margin around the little pond or grooming themselves, letting the dander and old feathers fall to the earth below or rest upon the stone.
The birds sat there, unaware of what they were resting upon, regaining their strength before they would wing off again and head south as autumn fell.
Long moments passed and soon the sounds of a creature struggling with something heavy began to reach them. With a rush the small collective of birds lifte