EmbraceI want to feel you.Embrace4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Take me away.
Everything is dark.
Show me where to go.
Take me in your arms.
Let us escape.
Our life is fresh.
An eternity awaits.
Our love is forever.
I need you.
You need me.
Nothing can stop us.
We are one.
In A Cosmic SenseThe truth is so overrated.In A Cosmic Sense5 years ago in Open More Like This
The good, the beautiful?
Myths, at best.
A painting, oil or graffiti
See the ozone, disintegrating
from your spray paint fumes;
See your realistic oil painting
Millions of dollars handed over
for nothing, valueless.
Talk about a shuddering economy,
A broken system.
Imagine the kindest gentlest soul you've ever known;
It's lied, schemed and sinned
in some capacity, with good intentions.
(There's something somewhere about good intentions
something about paving the highway to Hell.)
And that last devil,
That endless overemphasis of Truth.
Isn't Truth that sometimes you want to hurt someone?
Want to yell at your mother?
Tell her the truth, that sometimes you hate her in those moments;
Then preach to the godless masses
There is nothing innate, transcendent
In the good, the true and the beautiful.
I can only be grateful that
It's only skin deep.
AuditionThe Flute PlayerAudition5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Catherine Amendala stared blankly at the stranger playing in the front of the room. Many of the flautists in this room could barely play the All-Region audition etudes at the indicated tempo. And this mystery guy shows up and plays them over-tempo? Her heart beat quickly as she tried not to listen to him. Something in the back of her mind told her that she should have practiced more.
He put his flute down.
She was next.
The Clarinet Player
Glumly, Catherine stepped out of the audition room. As soon as she thought she could not feel any worse, a sophomore clarinet by the name of Abbey Nelson skipped towards her, smiling and radiating happiness.
Howd you do? Abbey, the clarinet prodigy, asked.
The junior flute player stared back, unable to say a word.
oh, muttered Abbey.
The Euphonium Player
Tommy Daily stepped out of the euphonium audition room, anxiety starting to take hold. He had done better than
A bunch of flowers on a branchA bunch of flowers on a branch –A bunch of flowers on a branch7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Flowers and Birds, Flowers and fruits
Sunny places in the sun
high above the ground
Loving, Loving Dearly
Bloom of the youth
Before your very eye's
All of you
Ones whole heart
Before you know it
an empty dream
First or opening day
Falling Cherry blossoms
Falling drop of Water
Garden with green grass
Clear water with a Lake
Sky with clouds
To manage everything
Beat wit's end
At wit's end –
It's not your concern
It's none of your business
It's no wonder
It's no use
It's getting late
Beautiful from all sides
Beautiful nothing whole
Being away from home
Away from home
Flowers in full bloom
like I said,
like I said,
Flowers in Bloom
Falling Cherry blossoms
Seen in the sky
is a cloud of you.
Far away from home
an nothing to do.
Seen in the sky
Killer Queen - ADN FW.It is a hard thing, trying to get privacy, even in a house as large as the one I am lucky enough to possess. Upon the rare occasion that I can, in fact, cram myself away into a personal nook, cranny, or corner, it never seems to last particularly long. For even when I am capable of writing down more than one page of information at a time, the fact of the matter is that information's main intent is usually lost by the time I manage to scratch it onto my documents.Killer Queen - ADN FW.6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
So it was a great privilege indeed, one warm Spring day, when I managed to hide myself away from the sunlight for a few hours, away from the boisterous Irishman, the obnoxious demon, and other stifling factors of my own little innfor what else had my manor become but a place to store the rejects of society? Harsh as it may sound, it is the truth that makes it so difficult to hear. However, I was entirely grateful; from the moment I could rest behind my desk of mahogany, briefly reflect upon its marvelous, gleaming surfac
MuseGot to get it down nowMuse7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Before I forget.
It'll just take a few moments.
That's all, I promise as
I start on problem ten.
I'll work on it in a moment.
Don't nag me, I'm busy.
Can't work on that now.
And yet he persists.
Finish me, pay me heed,
He pleads, refusing to be ignored.
Don't you love me, don't you care
As I sit in these dark depths waiting
For your spark of inspiration
To light our way?
I grind away at problem ten
And answer back weakly,
No, not right now, I've stuff
To do, stuff to finish—
Stuff more important than me?
He asks with a pout.
Just for a few moments,
That's all I ask. It'll be enough.
(Or so he says.)
The music in my head plays.
He turns up the volume eagerly,
Whispers suggestions that
Draw me away, Trigger a thought
Unrelated to the work before me.
Off goes the gun, a loud shot,
That can't be left for later.
Got to get it down now
Before I forget.
I'll just take a few moments
Project SS: Character ProfilesName: Aaron McNeilProject SS: Character Profiles8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
-colour: Dirty Blonde
-length: Middle of back
Eye colour: Dark Green.
Weight: 154 lbs
Notes: Genius Inventor. Attends the University of Robotics going for his Majors Degree. He is normally very shy, except towards A.I.R.. He gets very embarrassed when people mention that he built A.I.R. as a fully functioning female. He has a crush on Keridwen.
Name: A.I.R. (Artificial Intelligence Robot)
Age: Has operated for 3 years, appears 20
-colour: Dark Green
-style: Single Braid
-length: Middle of back
Eye colour: Blue
Weight: 250 lbs (due to her robotic parts)
Notes: Aaron's aide and his final project for his Bachelor's Degree in robotics. She is robotic and yet is still a fully functional female. Her skin is made from actual human skin cells. Her bones and muscles are mostly advanced hydraulics and a special alloy metal. He never mentioned how he made her reproductive systems o
Flower Girl -Aerith-Flower Girl (Aerith)Flower Girl -Aerith-9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
There was a time where days were fair although
My mind may not recall which ones were clear.
I remember the display; a show
in the sky that shone like a mirror.
In a church I lay, taking a nap
The roof was gone, just dust of old wood plank.
A voice I heard, my eyes at once so rapt
A girl, a woman, with verdant eyes that sank
Reality. The sky came through the roof.
A love of flowers, compassion that she knew.
For sale at corners, cheaper than a tooth.
Bought out of pity, a fact so sad yet true.
It was she, who made such days so bright,
But it's a pity since death has snuffed her light.
Seven Deadly Sins - Sloth 5.Seven Deadly Sins - Sloth 5.2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Sloth (Socordia) : is often seen as being considerably less serious than the other sins, more a sin of omission than of commission.
In one room of the house, a girl was lying on a bed, her long light hair forming a halo around her head. Everything around her seemed to float. Violet felt even float. As caught in a slow stream which carry her away little by little. Nothing interested her, her parents, high school, and life in general. As if her soul was exacerbated by a kind and welcoming lazy. Violet was enjoying this state of grace where everything seemed distant. Floating.
Getting up from a sudden movement, she looked at herself in the mirror placed in front of his bed. She did not understand what was happening to herself. As if she was anesthetized. Dead. No motivation. No interest or desire. Even her relationship with Tate seemed to be a memory so distant. She felt sad to be like that but this lazy was so comfortable. Tears filled her eyes and slowly she lay down again, a
Rekindling the Fire-Chapter 4Rekindling the Fire-Chapter 43 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I feel a slight breeze ruffle the hair that lies across my face. I sigh, not wanting to open my eyes. My eyelids feel heavy. I let them open halfway. I look down at my body and see I am fully dressed. I raise my eyebrows, "Was it a dream?" I wonder aloud. I push back the covers and then attempt to sit up. The pain is immediate. I feel tears in my eyes for a split second. "Nope, definitely reality." I whisper and stand, slowly.
I take slow steps to the door and see the evident signs of Peeta. The window is wide open; and there is a tray of tea on the dresser with a small loaf of bread. I smile to myself and make my way to the bathroom and when I emerge, he is sitting on the bed, smiling at me.
"Hey, sleepy head." He pulls me into his arms as he says this. I feel his warm hands rubbing my back, "Have a nice night?" He whispers in my ear, playfully.
I bat at his arm and pull away, "No, I actually didn't," When his face falls, I smile and grab his hand, "I had an amazing night."
Losing YouIf you died today...Losing You10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Would I somehow know?
Would the pain tear into my skin like shrapnel?
If I never saw your sweet face again...
Would I cry?
Would the tears slide down my face and fall
If you were gone
In one brief moment of terror...
Would I feel your soul screaming out for mine?
Would I stare forever into the depths of eternity
searching for that one bright star in this dark
universe of life?
Would I miss you?
Could I hear you?
Would your spirit come to visit me, pale and
transparent in the night?
If only in my wildest dreams...
Emotions pressing down on my small body like
a torrent of rain
No coat to shield me from the storm
Whatever trials this cruel life brings
Losing you would be the cruelest
I would be left
An empty skin
Trapped frozen in the rotting dream
That forever was made for us...
Waiting all the time
For a future turned to dust
If this day should ever come...
Let us wish I pass on too
Slip silently away into the light
Leaving that fe
What classifies Beauty?What classifies a woman's beauty?What classifies Beauty?7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The eyes, the hips, the hair?
The size, the weight, the tummy fat?
And how much muscle where?
Is it all about the finer features,
And how large they are or small?
And what about a woman's height,
How short she is or tall?
And what about the color skin?
The black and curvy or pale and thin,
Slanted eyes that tantalize,
Or wide set eyes that grin?
Whatever the classifications are,
Such demands cannot be pleased,
Not for anyone who's not sold their soul,
That the disapproval may be appeased.
And what the reason, we must be mad!
To throw such jewels away,
To beat up beauty and throw it down,
And say it is child's play.
Sisters, now, we must unite,
To stop such torture here,
Yet do so in such a gentle way,
It makes our beauty clear.
lying"Now children, please refrain from sticking your hands between the bars, unless you're not fond of them."lying4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The group's excited chatter sounded like dozens of squawking birds as every child marveled at the creatures before them. Great fowl with long necks and little wings, deer as small as mice, emerald snakes curled about trees, and all manner of other amazing beasts, all together in the same exhibit.
Really, the multitude of voices were giving the woman a headache. Times like these made her question why she became a teacher... though of course, it only took a fond remembrance or two of giving those impish little brats the punishments they deserved to find the answer. Today, though, she would not be the one doling out justice-- and in a way, that almost irked her-- but it was for the best. Those who didn't listen to her would surely regret it today.
At the front of the crowd, a young green-haired boy stood with his hands loosely clutching the bars, staring at the animals roaming
Wildflower bonesDesperate fingers peruse the dying earth and caress the bones of the lost eon of summer's touch.Wildflower bones4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hollow sounds echo as I press the carcasses of wildflowers into a bloody wheel-barrel.
Watching the skeletal sunflowers being taken away is a relief a promise
a compromise that even after winter's ordeals, be they idyllic flutters or angry conquests,
spring, that slutty lover, can still twist me around her gnarled finger.
YeastEarly afternoon,Yeast4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the oven is hot,
the smell of flour and yeast
littering the house.
You stand there, rings set aside,
wrist-deep in bread dough,
kneading and working it
until it talks to you.
There I am,
barely six, and I stand
on the other side of the counter,
watching you, and enjoying the sight.
shaped like pretzels
are a better treat than even
chocolate ice cream.
SymphonicUnlike Romeo, I am not in love with the idea of being in love.Symphonic4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
True, the emotions slipping within the crevices of this heart are intriguing and indolent,
but what really captures my excitement at such ventures
is writing about being in love.
Writing (placing numbed fingers to keys) about love is perhaps sweeter than actually being in love.
But I question my motivations so commonly nowadays I'm never quite sure how I feel.
Writing about this emotion, then, whatever we choose to call it
is sweet contemporary lilting with chimes and quirks at staccato movements.
Perhaps my heart has not yet known the dancing of love
but it does know how thrilling and innovating thinking you are at least
writing about such tragic emotions and comedic fluttering.
The muse has struck his chord.
paper heartshe folded my paper heartpaper heart4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with her hands a thousand times.
each side turned at an angle,
rotated and bent into a paper crane,
or was it an aeroplane?
perhaps a balloon, filled with water until it simply fell
my paper heart, so heavy, oh so heavy,
wrinkling in the light,
wasting away under the sun,
it hardened, creased on every plane and
there, you found it cowering under the blanket
and with your fingers, you flattened out the creases,
wrapped it in warmth until all the marks,
the scars, the grotesque blisters
healed from your love so now my
little paper heart is beating,
it's learning all over again.
A Day In The LifeMy skin felt tight under the trails of dried tears. I'd sat for hours, writing my goodbyes, letting my tears sign my confessions. In less time than it took to walk to the corner of our crumbling street, my job would be done and I could get on with the business of taking my life.A Day In The Life4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I didn't know if it was misfortune or the selfless, unconditional comeradery he offered, but no one had won and lost so many companions to suicide as my closest friend. His heart was open to anyone who needed friendship or comfort, and in his arms I found some small amount of strength; enough to carry me through five years of unending misery. His was a friendship that offered me what I most lacked: unconditional, unassuming support. My family loved me, and offered me what they could, but Patrick understood me, because he had been down a road very similar to mine.
The guilt I felt when I thought of him consumed me momentarily and I laid my pen over my words,
Paint The WorldA blob of green paint met with the tip of my head, swirling within the roughened bristles of my brush, and overwhelmed my senses with the pungent smell. I was pulled away from the wooden painting palette before being pushed against the canvas before me. My stained-green strands brushed lightly against the canvas, dragging and dotting to add in more color to the scene. I brought emerald trees to life in the mystifying forest that my master had created. The paint smeared just as my master dictated, creating another world with my added help. My master's skilled hands guided me across the canvas, creating hundreds of leaves within thick bushels of trees. To think that just hours before the canvas was blank with no life was laughable, though true.Paint The World4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was pulled away from the canvas after some time of being used for the bountiful amount of plants. I was sure that my work was finally done after hours of work, for nothing else need be added. One could imagine my surprise when my head was massag
You See?i can seeYou See?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when you look at me
that what you see
gold in my young eyes
paper in my young bone
trading in my life
in lieu of a loan
to fill your wallet
i'm forced to writhe
on some filthy surface
under threat of a knife
the others just like me
they too will scream
when they're pushed down
and rent apart within
and when we can't always
fight for ourselves
we're just more souls
to be stacked on the shelves
dusted by inaction
battered by misuse
soon we're going to malfunction
from this too-cyclic abuse
HangmanHangman4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Alexa tore out a sheet of notebook paper and scribbled down a quite note to her best friend. She folded the paper neatly, then discreetly handed the paper towards the desk next to her and held out her note for the person to take. She felt the hand of her best friend take it and quickly pulled her arm back to her body so the teacher wouldn't notice her acts. Alexa glanced towards Joey out of the corner of her eye to see him smile and write something under her quick note of, "I'm so bored! Wanna play hangman?"
Joey handed the folded paper back to his friend with his added input reading, "Ya, sure." Anything would have been better than listening to the nasal sound of the lecturing teacher, in both Alexa and Joey's opinions.
Alexa silently giggled and wrote down, "I'll go first! " before drawing out the simply and typical setup of the game hangman. Alexa didn't need any time to figure out a word that she wanted to use. She had been thinking about playing this game wi
Dancing InsanityI sit and face the stage as the actors take their places. Their singing voices carry over the crowd gathered before them. Others can see me, but I cannot see them. I am gone.Dancing Insanity4 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
The rhythm moves through me, the voices and the sounds and the words sinking deep into my soul, digging a nest in the hollow of my chest. The words are primal, primitive, calling to me of people and civilizations past. They dance through me, creating new personalities and new people, the rhythms doubling as they course through me in waves of ecstasy and thrill. They make an infinite number of shapes and colors, dancing in circles about me, enticing me to come closer and leave with them, never to return to this physical world.
Like the Pied Piper, the voices call to me, they sink into me, they become me. They draw me closer, they breath to me their sultry words of pleasure, and slowly I am drawn forth, bound unto this ancient curse. I am truly gone now, the rhythm dies away, fading into a colorless darkness, breath