So Close-- Prelude --So Close4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Black, sweeping hair
A marble face
etched with cold, frightening beauty
Dark eyes that hold
all of his soul
This is Liam Frost
Bright, sunshine curls
A tender face
molded with delicate, gentle beauty
Warm emerald eyes that hold
a promise of happiness
This is Cosette Murel
And this is a story
a story of his
-- First Movement --
He was a loner,
One that many liked to
Neatly judge, label,
file away, and
But he didn't mind
Or even care.
Because he agreed
With Orson Wells
So he was content.
Content with loneliness.
Content within his
walls of ice.
The only things he knew
The only things he cared about were His music
and Autumn, his only friend.
That is, until he saw
Planting roses under
a window of her
Aphrodite among mortals.
She smiled and
his chest tightened.
She laughed and
the world's beauty
faded in comparison.
Entranced, he stood
Miracles of LifeMiracles of Life3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
If a single blade of grass is a miracle, then what are a thousand?
FOR THE LOVE OF ARTFOR THE LOVE OF ART5 years ago in Drama More Like This
FOR THE LOVE OF ART
Many people are true artists. Many are true art lovers. Then there are those like me who love art so much that I want to be just a small part of it. I love drawings and photographs and paintings in any form. I love talent in any form; so much so that I cannot just sit still. I must get my hands in it. I look for things I love and ask permission to use them, and then use a computer program to paint them. I don't just sit back and watch it paint all by itself. Once the computer program has finished, I go back to correct anything that I feel is not appealing to me. At least I do it to the best of my ability.
Although not always consistent with my work to others, I am to myself. At times I like near perfection (picture perfect) and at other times I like a rustic looking piece. I guess it depends on the original photograph and what I had en
FFM 2011, 29.7 - The Tower"Dora speaking."FFM 2011, 29.7 - The Tower4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Mrs. Appleby? This is Aimee Bonner. I don't know if you happen to remember me..."
"Ms. Bonner? Of course I remember you! You were my star pupil in the 7th form. I'm so glad to hear your voice."
"That's right! That's right, Mrs. Appleby. I'm glad you remembered me. Um. I know this isn't strictly according to procedures, but I was wondering if you could help me with...a thing."
"You're being awfully secretive, Aimee. I can't promise anything before you tell me what it is."
"Well, ah, you see, it's a matter of...uh...invading realities? Maybe I better explain...."
"Ms. Bonner, if you have a haunting or a poltergeist or anything of the kind, you really ought to be calling the authorities, not me."
"If you'll just let me explain Mrs. Appleby, please."
"Oh, very well."
"It's like this. I have a freezer in the cellar, where I keep frozen berries and mushrooms and things. It's quite roomy, although I usually manage to keep it filled to the brim. Anyway, I was going down there
Nature's Night SongNature's Night Song3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Everywhere cool and silent
The trees spread their shadows.
And I feel, speechless bowing,
That I am deeply sheltered.
It is as if the sky
Has silently kissed the earth
That she in nature's glory
Now has to dream of him.
In the forest, there is a green spot.
It is shady and is clear,
Has still seen anybody
Except the stars and me.
The wind blows through the fields,
The gras waves gently.
The woods rustle silently
So starlit is the night.
Bright, in a solemn bow,
Star for star rises from the wood
And in the hills around nestles
The land and keeps silence.
And my soul spreads
Widely its wings,
Flies through the silent lands,
As if it flies home.
My Old FriendMy Old Friend3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I just wanted to see you again, my old friend of childhood days.
I had so many things to say to you
And knew that you would understand me.
Already as a little girl I visited you
With all my problems.
I felt safe with you
And all grief flew away.
When I was weeping in your arm,
You have caressed my hair
With your green leaves,
My old friend.
Today you fell!
I came too late.
You will never sway in the wind again.
You have to lie chopped by the wayside.
Some passers-by do not respect the rest of life
And tear at your green boughs
Which bend to the earth, dying.
Who will give me the peace now
That I found in your shade?
I have lost my best friend
Who connected me to my childhood.
Soon a house made of glas and stone will grow
Where you have been chopped.
Soon grey walls will tower, there,
Where you lie in the sunshine.
Perhaps a miracle will happen?
I will wait for it secretly.
Perhaps in front of the house will bloom a garden
And my tree will come to life again.
But then he will be weak an
this one winterSnowflakes come down from the skythis one winter5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Do they fall, or do they fly?
Somewhere they hit the ground
But you can't hear a sound
Your footsteps, they start to disappear
A howling wolf is all you hear
They way home you try to find
In this dark night you're nearly blind
You stop and watch out for the moon
Nothing's there, it disappeared too soon
Somewhere you can hear a little dog bark
You can't figure it out, it is too dark
Suddenly there appears a light
Fighting its battle against the night
And there you hear a lovely voice
So you decide, you make a choice
You yell for help between snow and ice
An answer. You never felt so nice
The light comes nearer, you change your place
There by the light appears a beautiful face
This one takes you to a warm room
You start to forget the outside's gloom
To this one you lose your heart
And this love won't break apart
Nothing is left to fear
No need to cry any hopeless tear
Now every time you see some snow
You start to remember what you already know
The Tree's NameThe Tree's Name3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The tree grew in the midst of the Old Forest.
A lot of people went for a walk in this forest. But mostly they did not notice the tree. It stood a little off the road. There it had its place where it had grown naturally.
The tree was still young, but already very strong. Its roots were deeply anchored in Mother Earth. It had strong branches and many twigs where birds liked to nest. The birds were its friends. They felt well there because of the tranquillity and the strength of the tree. Its leaves became dark-red in autumn and were wonderfully veined.
The tree had a dream. It wanted to know its name.
During one long dark and cold winter it dreamt of having a name and being called by it. That would produce a very special magic and it would find its destiny.
One beautiful evening the air was clear and pure. It was summer and the air was comfortable warm and starlit. Even here at the remote place in the Old Forest where the young tree grew penetrated the starlight and the war
FFM 2011, 30.7 - Old FriendsThe wind chimes picked up the storm as it came over the mountain, bringing with it rain, thunder and the cool. Sarah stood on the porch and listened, waiting.FFM 2011, 30.7 - Old Friends4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
When the wind had turned unrelenting, and the chimes played their manic symphony, he appeared.
He floated out of the treeline, entirely unaffected by the wind, the tattered clothing from his violent death hanging limply from his emaciated limbs. His face was skin taut over a skull, just the way he had looked when she had thrown the first shovelful of dirt over it.
"Hello Sarah." He rasped, having come as close as the wind chimes would let him, his incorporeal body quivering with every chime.
Sarah smiled warmly.
"Hello Alvin. I've missed you."
River Flows in YouRiver Flows in You4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm lost without you
You hold my heart close
My tears even closer
You are my only
When I cry tears of sadness
You carry them in your palms
I keep breathing
My heart keeps beating
When I wake up I'm lonely
When you wake up next to me I'm loved
It's a dream
It's a fairytale
May our chapter never end
You are my everything
An angel sent from heaven
Let our heart beat the sweetest melody
One more day, one more time
You are truly
The River flows in you.
Dream or Nightmare?One's dreamDream or Nightmare?6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Is a nightmare
The World of Black and WhiteThe World of Black and White3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The World of Black and White
Written by michael.m
On Friday, April 6th 2012
I never know is it morning or dark
I never know is it a beauty or a failure
I never know which road I am treading on
I just know how to walk and walk
With all the rest of my power
And with my eyes closed
The wind blows my face gently
Brings me cold and chill to my ashen skin
Finally I find my own freedom
After so long I was a prisoner
Of my routines and boring days
But not anymore
The scent of flowers softly fills my lungs
With the aromas I never smell before
Sweet like the Scily Isles
But tender like roses
I believe there is a garden laid before me
But how far and how big
I never know
Lone grasses and dandelions gracefully touch my hand
Softly linger with my fingers
I can feel the softness of silk
And the comfort of cotton's fiber
I'm so happy
To find that my anguish and despair are gone
But then suddenly I stop
All the feelings disappear
I realize that my eyes are blind
The Morning GardenThe Morning GardenThe Morning Garden3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The sun rose against the darkness of night ; greeting a new day
Birds sang their morning song, high in the air
Along with angels to sound pleasant
A sonata began to play
The sun placed his banner upon the skies ; welcoming a new moment
Darkness was being replaced by the morning light
Although she wanted to witness the beauty of dawn
Which is gone since the yearful night ; and then returned to start over again
Finally the sun reigned upon his zenith ; the sun shone brightly
Yet he discovered a new oak tree by his sight ; it grows
Above the the hill to the edge of the skies
Higher and higher it gets ; and sweeter the fruit it bears
sadnessI want to be alone,sadness7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
but I don't want to feel lonely
I'm not hungry,
but this hunger kills me
I need to look into your eyes,
but I can't stand it when you are looking into mine
I want to touch you,
but you don't
I dream of your way to kiss,
but that's what I have to miss.
I can't live without you,
but I have to.
You don't care about me,
but I don't blame you
I love you,
but you don't love me too.
Secrets.I share my secrets with you --Secrets.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Well I share most of them.
But not all.
I can't share all of them;
Not in letters-- not in type on a screen.
Nor by telephone or text.
Some secrets must be shared face to face,
If spoken aloud they might shatter,
They must be whispered like sweet nothings
In embraces and intimacy
Held in those little moments when the world stops
And only our hearts keep beating.
I share my secrets with you --
Well I share most of them.
But not all.
Beauty is Blind, Ch. 4Beauty is Blind, Ch. 43 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The waif's newfound "angel" was not an angel at all; he was a highly deformed musical genius named Erik who murdered at his own free will. In other words, he was the Phantom of the Opera himself.
Erik had always had a fascination with magic and mirrors. He used his tricks to link Margot's mirror to the same passageway he had used to lure Christine down to his lair years earlier. It was inexplicable; all he used was magic.
"This way, my dear," he said, leading her down to the lair. "I've been ever so lonely. Now, though, I have a new soprano!"
The waif reached out and touched him. "You're not an angel!" she cried.
He ignored her comment. "I have everything ready for you. And this, mon chérie, is my lake. On to the boat now, child!"
She had never been on a boat before, and the sensation of floating across the lake made the girl rather uncomfortable. There was a feeling of warmth on her face as they drifted along, for there were candles surrounding them. The Phantom carried th
Your Love ..Your Love ..4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
.. حتى في اشد حالات احتياجي لك
.. سأظل اقاوم حبك
.. تلك الشجره .. قوية الجذور
.. التي زرعتها في قلبي بحبك الذي .. كان .. نابضا
.. كنت ارويها كل يومٍ .. من اعذب مياه الحب
.. ولكنني الان .. أسق
winter eveningsWhen snowflakes cover the groundwinter evenings7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
When fog is all around
But a soft red light is shining through
It wakes a feeling up in you
You close your eyes, this feeling calms
Of holding your love tight in your arms
For Christmas you would like to have a lot of things
But nothing is like those winter evenings.
FFM 2012, July 4 - Sleeping BeautyThe baby would be christened Aurore. It was mostly Anne's decision Steven would have preferred something less ostentatious. They had tried for years and years the natural way, but it wasn't meant to be. Finally, they had volunteered for the Summers Foundation's trial run. Aurore still had Steve's and her genes just slightly rearranged.FFM 2012, July 4 - Sleeping Beauty3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The christening was huge. June, Gussie and Mae Summers were the ones who had helped Annie and Steve through the whole ordeal, but they were also the ones who had rearranged Aurore's genes. Choosing them to be the babe's godmothers was an obvious decision. They crowed around the mother in their summer dresses and hats. Today the lab coats were nowhere to be seen.
"She's going to be beautiful. Just like her mother." June said. And a little more than that, if her research turned out to be on the button.
Gussie, the oldest of the three, declared: "She'll be smart. Brilliant, even." That had been an obvious addition.
"Not just that: s
Trip1Trip5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I speak six languages, French on the train,
Flemish in a square, money in my top hat,
I sell the hat, travel on, Italian at a Cathedral,
Hebrew on a mountain, money in my flat cap,
I travel against the sun, speak music with him.
I did not lose my treasure on the crossing
and no pirates approached our ship.
The natives are civilised, for natives;
a charming prince with a nose ring performed a dance for me.
wine buckfast lager pass a smoke man the dope shroom stash smashed
out of my head can't feel my feet the bed half a pill I'm delirious dead
Strong man and the Siamese twins dig ruts for the wheels
and the acrobat brews tea in a tin kettle.
I toss my top hat at a bear, for Mother Russia has been cruel.
And in India Kerala, the south, yes reading the Edakkal Caves,
Kutti Chattan, poems of 600 BC, love, kings, Roman ships all sailing in;
the Varthamana Pusthakam travelogue. For the BBC, yes.
A good documentary, insufficient, of c