Orpheus and Eurydice story: A retellingI Am what I am.
In your world ones like me cannot be seen anymore. We are looked upon as lumber or paper. Fodder for your fireplaces and splinters to pick your teeth.
I am a dryad, a wood nymph, or forest faery.
However you wish to think of me, I am what I am.
What I am is dead.
I swirl around in the underworld in my own private torment for all time with no hope of being set free. Not anymore at least. Maybe I should start at the beginning. The same place I go back to day in and day out to relive over and over again. See, this is my private hell. To see my life, my hopes, my dreams flutter away on the wind like a butterfly's wings. That is not the hardest most painful part though. Nothing can compare to the doubt of your one true love.
My name is Eurydice. Or at least it was.
My time had begun when I was just a seedling. As I grew into a sapling and sprouted new leaves I would giggle at the way the West Wind would play through them. When it rained I would delight in how it would tickle
The Hottest 30 DaysThe traffic never bothered him until he had nowhere to go.The Hottest 30 Days3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It took two hours to get across town and he forgot the applications.
There wasn't snow on the ground, so he pulled over
and parked in a tow away zone. He walked around
the center of that city and thought about his father standing in line
with him at the Hartford shopping mall twenty seven years earlier
in the town where he grew up.
It's Christmas time and all of the other children are
pissing themselves with anticipation.
Over the scent of plastic evergreens and candy canes,
his father still smells like motor oil and top shelf bourbon.
The closer he gets to the obese man in the red coat,
the more he shakes with fear. Tears well up in his eyes.
Right before it's his turn, his dad pulls him out of line and
they walk quietly back to the car.
His dad doesn't turn the heat on or bother looking in the rearview mirror;
"Don't make me leave w
Empathy.You said it was one of those nightsEmpathy.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when the laboured breathing of the slumbering world plagued the earth with lethargy,
and the liveliest of people would crawl into their beds,
seeking solace in the dreams that release them from reality's hold.
As they sank into the deepest of subconscious visionaries, you sighed
and opened the blinds.
I never knew what on earth you meant.
Surely someone waited for you in the warm folds of a comforter,
struggling to hold onto consciousness,
so that you could join them and fall asleep in their company?
As I cocked my head to one side in confusion, you sighed
and turned away in sorrow.
Glancing at his sleeping form beside me,
my sleepless eyes strayed to the arm loosely holding me to him,
and I knew that at some point in history,
another had lain in my place.
As his heartbeat lulled me into submission, I sighed
and closed my eyes.
You said it was one of those nights
that you'd been caught dead center in the eye of your own storm,
and sleep simply could
Quieting the SparrowQuieting the Sparrow2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
"Release me, now
I desire wind's flight."
You do not yet understand
the thrashing of feelings
the bite of crooning words;
You know not the cruelty of man,
nor the tip of his arrow
Man hunts and stalks
beauty with sardonic blatancy
elated and brimmed with delight.
He snuffs it out with senses akin to savage beasts,
crippling prey with fearsome teeth.
However, amongst fear and shattered aspirations,
there is no greater rush than to hunt
and be hunted
but once caught:
reality wakes cold.
N o v ai.N o v a2 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.
In Which Passion Fails to Appearthan that colder, lowly lightIn Which Passion Fails to Appear3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
none has felt less right
as your lips glide over mine,
synchronized; a most bitter wine.
can one help thoughts held
deep into the night, conscience quelled?
liberal drops of oil [filth-riddled liquid]
leak from your mouth to mine, our lip lock insipid.
my interest gone, displaced at first touch
your lips now a feckless crutch;
sorry my dear
it seems my passion has yet to appear.
Lake PlacidWhere were you when my sky cracked?Lake Placid3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When the thunder and wind tore my hair at the roots
When the trees snapped and the windows gave in
And emptiness came down to reshape my world?
It's these small moments with huge consequences
like a mouse that chewed the electric circuit
like a moth teeters near the edge of a flame.
the day we parted was like an earthquake
tearing apart tree roots and riverbeds.
My life was upturned; upstaged really,
by the placidness of your addiction.
My way to hell was through you,
and the lessons you never intended to teach.
You turned survival tactics into goddamn song:
Keep your thumb in when fighting.
Make eye contact while lying.
Smile when it hurts, baby, because life's a fucking migraine.
Like a dog learns to cower at the rolled up Sunday Times,
you left me crippled.
It wasn't until I fell into the volcano did I realize
how you held me captive.
I have more to give than angry glances and raised fists.
I have more to
this, then, is life?This, then, is life.this, then, is life?3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The weighing in and the rushing out
the heavy hands and the full-of-doubts
the how-dare-yous and the desperate pause
the sinking of ships without a cause.
To trudge along in an empty way
like soldiers march to an unmarked grave
a battlefield, a morose sun
blinking into the eyes of none;
this, then, is life.
These weeping nights and forlorn pleas
the torture of our enemies
in war-torn minds that beg to breathe
the light of day they never see.
And while we march into these graves
killing hope and those unsaved
we cannot help but glimpse as time
out from beneath our feet flies.
And so we, in question, cry
this, then, is life?
Twist and ScreamMy fears in affairs of men and mitesTwist and Scream3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Art pale as winter's early light,
My fears of beasts and womankind
Art mellow as sweet Chinnon wine.
Nay, gurt dog, thou hound of homely hell,
Nay, ravens, thou birds of restful sleep,
Nay, demons, thou puppets of lassitude,
Art all too meek whence I lifelong keep.
Dismay the voice that whispered sin,
Afore swearing fealty to heaven's kin
Yet, hell's gates seemeth paradise,
For I saw such lies in the Lord's eyes.
No banished heart nor rabid soul
Brings a shiver to mine steadfast stroll,
But were this life a nocturnal dream,
Would the dying, in death, twist and scream?
im dizzy let's dance,The warf was singing tonight,im dizzy let's dance,3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
with a voice of rusted metal shackles.
singing that the sea turns to ink at night
so the poets commit suicide.
we're oh so sea sick.
cutie, don't worry
because we're all made of starstuff
and narcissists will keep wishing on their cousin's corpses
lets chase epileptic electric lights instead.
they lock the flowers up at night
because they'd grow over the rubbish and grunge
they'd choke you out
and bloom in your heart
trespassers will be prosecuted.
p.s garden nymphs exist
don't ya know
the trains are haunted
and the tramps are restless
we leave our shadows and fingerprints everywhere.
lighthouses scream at sailors
"we're all going down,
you've got sirens and booze on your minds and they will wreck you eventually"
a man has a pocket full of jingling coins
they make high brassy music as he walks
he's throwing them one by one into a fountain
he's wishing for wings.
i don't know who im praying to
but i'm praying for you.
AgingWhen I walk on the curbsAging2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
of downtown, I can turn my head
and see my reflection
in the glass.
In the windows that stand guard
against the smoke
and the rain
and the winds.
I can see myself,
flickering between panes
as I move down the streets.
I can see myself,
waiting to grow old
and learning how to remember.
your hairpinsnotice the fluidity of my unbackspaced fingers -your hairpins3 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
no that’s a lie I need it to be perfect you are perfect and I am
trying so fucking hard to be - you are
the scent of winter mornings, musk
of intimacy, smooth-scratchy whispers
of broken French and
mine. I never need to erase the only truth as unworthy of denial
as the uncertainty of grass behind the fence
we’ll never see past.
are mine and your body
utters it, shapes its lucidity
around it. when you see this fluidity
in my clumsy, flimsiness
do you smile?
do you pride yourself a puppeteer
or do you let gravity fall victim
to your contentment’s excuses?
read this aloud, I have yet
to teach you how to tongue meaning out of my words
till they submit to your vocal intent.
your arms have learned
intimacy in my accents all over again;
I am a woman of so many words
I will drag you with my uncertainty
till you take it from my unkind sights,
nurse it back to
don't say nothey had said,don't say no1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
long before i met you
that the truth is known for its
punch in the gut;
it picks at the skin
on your forehead till it
peels off like the zest
of a pregnant orange,
bitter on your fingers
but so sweet
on your tongue.
is a typical symptom
of truth but
no one ever said
that you would exhaust
by the time it was
my turn to listen.
Not by Eastern Windows OnlySitting on dark roofs,Not by Eastern Windows Only3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
their lips were stained with bits of ash.
The garden was there to remind him
that he would always be in love.
Between her skin and the wildflowers,
he understood the evening lights.
Her black eyes were once as green as August.
Though he can't remember if it was
yesterday or long ago on a summer night.
He can't avoid the first snow fall.
you know when it's time to go onshe died a long time ago.you know when it's time to go on3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
her faceless figure turned
and gave you an invisible smile,
then pulled down her hood and
let the rain smear her image away.
it was quick and she probably didn't feel it.
you stood, dumbfounded at the corner
as her cab pulled away from the curb
and into the oncoming traffic.
she died today.
but it feels like she's been gone for so much longer.
kaiser coldhelmit's too cold here. every day the celsius nips at my skin,kaiser coldhelm3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
paints it blue as a negative digit, reduces "movement" to nil
there is a constant snow on my shoulders
that evicts the warmth in my ears,
sets nearby follicles in straight salute
like spiked german helmets
in the "great" war between a sunlight massage
and my frosty breath
Only NaturalSome would call this evil, but I find it entirely human to discover yourself alone with a stranger in theOnly Natural2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
supermarket isle and ponder how easy it would be to grab that glass jar of peanut butter with the blue
twist-off lid two shelves above you and mash their brains into jelly; only a psychopath would consider scraping up the resulting slurry with a saltine cracker as a souvenir.
An interesting case for the criminal justice department and the more visceral section
of the sociology department. Is it human to have such a fascination for the live feed snuff films that you seek
them out, that you search for their producers so you can interview and hold them? Is it human for couples to
play out roleplays, to wait for the kids to fall asleep, to tie her to the bed, to give him a knife? Is it evil
to search for violence, for war; or is this just all an aspect of humanity? Are you proud that she said she was 18,
are you proud that he left his country to rot, are you proud to be human? I am. Ev
ThreadI have had it.Thread3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am afraid you have called wolf far too many times.
Trust has vanished, if it were ever really there.
But I remain.
What are these chains that bind me?
What is this weight that cannot be shaken?
I continue to pull a last straw from a never ending sheaf.
You could say we are hanging by a thread
But why won't it break?
Dance of the HellhoundsRemember this cradled nightDance of the Hellhounds3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
by the fury of this fight.
For this is reality;
Fear at its darkest plight.
You run around and commit theft;
the Hounds follow right at your step.
Smell the embers as they burn behind -
furious and bright with raging cinder's might.
Seek a fever pitch through offense -
narrow the time of someone's tense.
And as your worries manifest through trite
the Hounds hunger to receive your life.
Submit to the temptations and sins -
for you shall be punished by shattered kin.
Dine with swine and hear them scream;
that will soon be you - ripped by the seams.
Bigot with a red ink pen and paper,
scribble a lust letter and sign it, "Savior".
Knowing that even with the erect crown
thy will be dragged down by the Hell Hounds.
Shroud thy self with soaked brushes
and be pleasured with their touches.
Vanity is bleak to the Reaper's deeds
and he makes no exception for your carnal greed.
They waltz with you baring watchful eyes
as you live out your falsified life.
Slowly, they en
exoskeletonthe lights blink in false patternsexoskeleton3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
across eyes that have seen
not so much
too much and too many
a day of frost.
there is an acre of water in my hands,
a hectare of sand leaking from my ears
beneath my feet.
my identity is not my body.
with silk skin
does not come a softened soul.
the calluses on the tips
of my fingers
do not denote my nature.
i have half organs and full lips,
a faltering liver and knobs for joints
that root me to this comfort
i can no longer call home.
i want to bathe in my soul and let it enclose me,
hug me tight and rope me in.
wrangle this mess of an image
and make it me.
make me a contracting muscle,
fleshy bits attached
and let me beat myself
until there is nothing left
SWS -- AstronomyAstronomy of sadness: tear-constellated eyelashesSWS -- Astronomy3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the old woman who goes to my churchmaybe we really can't do anything aboutthe old woman who goes to my church3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all these worldly problems. there are
too many hotels here and maybe there's
a rhyme or reason to the way He acts
or maybe there isn't and that old woman
who goes to my church who tripped and
became paralyzed from the neck down
always told me that once you start feeling
like a tourist in your own town, it's time
to get the hell out of there, honey.
most old people i know lost the spark in
their eyes when they heard their lover's
intake of breath for the last time. the
old woman who goes to my church who tripped
and became paralyzed from the neck down
still has a little bit of twinkle in her color-
less eyes. her eyes aren't really colorless,
i just don't know the names of the colors in them
so i'll just call them colorless because sometimes,
that old woman who goes to my church who tripped
and became paralyzed from the neck down is too
colorful, so her eyes need to be called colorless
to balance her out, know what i mean?
now i can't tell you too
The Maiden Drawn to Candle LightDrawn to candle light was sheThe Maiden Drawn to Candle Light3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
A maiden who had left the sea
Her hair, the deepest shade of green
Eyes that could only glimmer and gleam
Every stormy night she sang
A hymn of love that went unheard
Within the open air she called
For someone to be her company
Then one evening, he appeared
A man who rode along that way
Along the coast and to the shore
That's when they first met
For she was a maiden of the sea
And he was a man of human beliefs
He held her out his candle light
His widened eyes to find
Drawn to candle light was she
A maiden who had left the sea
Her hair, the deepest shade of green
Eyes that could only glimmer and gleam
It took mere moments for him to say
That he could not look another way
He took her upon his horse
And rode off into town with her
Women glowered at the sight of her
Whispering lies to their sons
So that no one could love her
So she would someday leave
But they had not thought of him
The man that had rode back with her
For she was happy just with him
And the wa
I See Angels On The CeilingIt was glassI See Angels On The Ceiling7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the inside was coated
I peeled off
and saw a stained
my curved hand
then that reflection
as if it had
Nothing is wasted.
Then there was just
and I tasted emptiness
my reflection rolls
across the floor.