The Ice AngelThe Ice Angel2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
An Angel on this Field of Ice,
I hesitantly step on this,
Field of Ice.
This surface of ice,
It is but the most slippery,
Field of ice.
I try moving slowly,
On this surface of ice,
But my Crooked skates,
Knock me off balance.
As I start to fall,
For the very first time,
I accept help,
And In no time,
A hand catches me within the fall,
She catches me from my misery,
And helps me escape the pain,
Field Of Ice.
With the sweetest voice,
Asks me,"Are you OK?",
Even though I seem afraid,
I nod aimlessly,
While I reach for her fragile hand,
I grab her hand firmly,
With the the grip even death itself,
Knows to be too tight.
This grip is,
And Almost unbearable.
Even though it is so hard,
For her to bear,
She continues to hold my hand,
Helping me inch forward on this slippery,
Field of Ice,
At first we move slowly,
But our speed gradually increases,
She lets go,
Telling me, "I will be back"
I watch her c
HaynsHayns9 months ago in Settings More Like This
Hayns. How to characterize these creatures from a far away world, Esvarra, in just a single word?
Empaths. Yes, this concept is a foundation of their culture, but it only answers “how?” and “why?” questions and not “what are they like?”
What does an empathy mean for a hayn? An ability to read minds of other's, an ability to feel their emotions. Inability to become distant from other creature's pain, great compassion toward other's suffering. A weird combination of collective intellect and individual reason.
Intellect and reason are not synonyms, at least in hayns' case. For example, let's take a computer: intellect is it's capacity, operative memory. Reason is all programs that use an electric “brain” as their main source. Intellect is capacity, reason is an algorithm. First one is impersonal, it's only responsible for complicated processes that a brain is capable of processing. Algorithms can be changed, overwritten and corrected. New pr
DreamsDreams2 years ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Every night I witness the same thing
These dreams always haunt me
I just seem to cling
To you. In these dreams, I see what we could be
These are the things I wish for
This is my desire for your touch
These are the things I adore
This is my longing for you to love me so much.
In these dreams,
I can feel the simplest touch from you
And it just takes me to extremes
The things you do, they make me swoon
I'm envious of any girl you flirt with
Above all, Bria, because you love her
And I can't end the wish
That wants us to be what we were
Sure, we laugh and your smile still shines
And sure, your personality still leaves me dazed
But what happened to those previous times?
I miss those days
And Miles, I miss you
I just can't seem to accept the fact
That I'm screwed
Because in reality, you're not going to crack
You'll always remain the person who doesn't care
You would merely rather be friends
My heart begins to know this and so it begins to tear
These dreams are the only things that keep
The Tree's NameThe Tree's Name1 year 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
Day of SilenceIn unbiased, unspecific terms, the Day of Silence is an opportunity to maintain a vigil that simultaneously reflects on lives cut tragically short and to serve as a reminder of the end result of hatred, prejudice, and indifference. If you are a progressive proponent, it is a day in honor of and reserved for the suffering of the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender communities of America a chance to proclaim a social and political message that the worth of a person is not determined by his or her sexual orientation, and that discrimination on such a merit is no better than racism or sexism. If your views are more orthodox, it is paradoxically an unacceptable acceptance of a deviant lifestyle, the promotion of an agenda that leads to the desecration of traditional family and community values.Day of Silence6 years ago in Editorial More Like This
It would be a lie to say that my own view of the Day of Silence is itself unbiased. I am a quietly proud Christian and a proponent of the value of the family, but my experiences and times w
Nature's Night SongNature's Night Song1 year 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.
Au jardin de BaudelaireAu jardin de BaudelaireAu jardin de Baudelaire4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Qui n'admira, dans un élan calme et mystique,
Baudelaire, facteur de vers mélancoliques,
De sinistres visions d'un passé romantique
Amputées parfois d'un trop bel ouragan
Et livrées si nues dans un corset d'argent.
La chair s'y convulse, en vain, sous le métal,
Car, enfin, elle est telle qu'en tout animal,
Peureuse à faire frémir le cur le plus brutal.
Mais la peinture aussi hante les Fleurs du Mal
En ce qu'elle donne corps à des formes mentales
Où perle la sueur, au front ornemental
S'il n'est pas ravalé à son blanc minéral,
Alors que se respire un air opaque et sale,
Terreur du dernier jour et d'une aube fatale
Où miroite de l'ange, la beauté sidérale.
Tant est-il qu'en ton verbe émerge et se dévoile
De ces marbres antiques, le lustre primordial
Où l'ombre et la lumière ont une part égale
Quand la cité n'est plus, ni le pays natal.
La nature y
PourtantAu large de l'océan de notre amourPourtant4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
gît la carcasse inerte de notre union.
La lumière jadis aveuglante de notre passion
s'est affaiblie dangereusement de jour en jour.
Dans nos silences, l'on peut entendre un ange
qui cherche à ranimer nos tendres échanges ;
les flammes brûlent encore et aux coeurs
car nos deux âmes sont éternellement soeurs.
Pourtant l'incertitude de notre destin
fait naitre la certitude que nos liens
se défont un à un avec le temps qui passe.
Et la peur de la fin de notre histoire
envahit mon être qui vit dans l'espoir
que de nouveau nos chemins s'embrassent.
One More Look at YouWith One More Look at YouOne More Look at You4 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
Each day opened up brand new
With a promise
Your smiling face
Holding you in my arms
You brought joy to my heart
Like no one else could
You were mine
Each day ended with a kiss
Mommy loves you baby
Now each day begins with a longing
A glimmer of hope
If I could just see your face
Touch you and hold you forever
Tell you again
How much I love you
If I could just have
One more look at you
Mommy loves you, baby
Please come back to me.
I want one more look at you.
La NatureNos pas grisâtres dans cette forêt monotone,La Nature4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Les branches mortes, craquant sous nos pieds,
Un ciel voilé, une chaleur masquée,
Et les bruits du silence nous entourent.
Les rayons du soleil, à travers une pluie fine,
Nous dévoilent le spectacle d'une agonie oppressante.
Les arbres, vivant une mort, ne veulent plus croire.
Leurs écorces tombent, sur ce sol humide,
Leurs racines se soulèvent, et laissent un chemin tortueux.
Nous guidant dans les méandres d'un esprit rongé.
Ce paysage gris, bordé de larmes,
M'émerveille de par sa beauté.
Ce royaume agité dans des ténèbres naissantes,
Ces grandes forêts, à l'horizon noirci,
Perdent leurs âmes.
Je vois ces sous-bois, baignés d'une lumière mourante,
Lentement disparaître ; comme la vie qui les délaisse.
Ces chemins, pourtant éternels, sont oubliés.
Ce monde autrefois verdoyant, revêt désormais,
Un habit gris
VieJe le ressens ce manque, au plus profond de moi même.Vie4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Si fort, qu'il devient envie et qu'il prend vie.
Le cur tambourine dans cette poitrine brûlante.
Ils ne sont plus et ils défilent.
Les yeux les voient, bien en couleur et ils me donnent envie.
Que l'on me rende cette vie.
Que je n'ai jamais eue.
Jamais vue que dans ces rêves.
Beaux, si beaux qu'ils me prennent des larmes.
Je pleure de manque, cette nuit, car j'ai envie.
Une incurable envie de vie.
Deux yeux...il dambre, il coloréDeux yeux...5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Si semblable et pourtant trop différents
Un même lieu habité différemment
Quand lun y vit, lautre ne fait que transformer.
il nocturne, il diurne
Chacun est un reflet de lautre
Lun est impossible sans lautre !
Pourtant, la vie de lun deux décline
Deux vues différentes dun même monde
Quand lun décrit sa vue de toutes les couleurs,
Il suffit à lautre dune teinte pour décrire les leurs
Si proches, et pourtant deux mondes.
Si lhomme continue son uvre de destruction,
Le loup, son compagnon, est voué à la disparition
Mother NatureMother NatureMother Nature10 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Nature surrounds me with life.
Violence and murder in the world.
Nature is crying to me.
The forest is my blanket and every branch
That is cut down causes great pain and sorrow.
Every seed that i plant
In my heart filled with joy will sprout love.
Let the forest grow inside your heart and soul.
Don't let the fire of anger
In your heart burn the forest inside you.
Wyvax's PrologueWyvax’s PrologueWyvax's Prologue11 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Part 1: The Death of Portland
Even to this day people don’t agree on the exact date of the beginning of the zombie storm. If you go by the “official” date, it’s when multiple extreme outbreaks began to pop up simultaneously across the globe. Some believe it started in a laboratory in Kamchatka nearly three years prior to the official date. For me it was two weeks prior to the official date, when a class 2 outbreak occurred in Portland Oregon and within one week became a class 5.
For those that don’t understand the classes, (though anyone left reading surely would), the classes are based on their level of extremity. A class 1 outbreak occurs when a single individual is infected, and is often killed by a cop or man defending himself without anyone realizing what they really are, so they often go unnoticed. A class 2 is when multiple people have been infected and people are afraid to go out at night. Rumors circulate, and such outbreaks
Day 1...5th TryYou mean...Day 1...5th Try2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
No walking across oceans?!?
TreeI rest beneath my favorite treeTree1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
As I walk through the forest.
I stare up
through the emerald leaves
And coppery branches.
Each slender twig shaped lovingly
By the hands of mother nature.
Wide stretching arms
Hold up the breath taking canopy.
Smooth brown branches hide
Under the leafy sea,
Turning to ivory when bark is pealed
From a fresh twig.
Delicate tendrils of ivy
Twine around the trunk,
Like so many green stitches
In the brown velvet
Of a lady's gown.
And, as I rise to leave, I look back,
And I see the tree.
Cloaked in it's golden shroud of sunbeams,
And I watch as it waves good-by.
ForestsLight as a featherForests2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Like a gentle caress
Touching my cheek
The sweet smelling breeze of wildflowers
Ever so sweet and pure
Morning dew grass
Waves in the wind
Pouring down in rays
Stand high and strong
The guardians of mysteries unknown
Rivers and trickling streams
Again, that breeze
So calm and warm.
I Miss You...i wish you were here to tell me that your proud of meI Miss You...3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
i wish i could see your face again
i wish you were here right now
i wish i could of said goodbye to you
''i never wanted you to leave .. i wanted you to here holding me
i miss you.. i miss your smile and i still shed a tear once in a while
and even tho its different now.. your still here somehow
my heart wont let you go and i need you to know
i miss you ... <3
Life is a WickThe candle burning downLife is a Wick3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The flame that is a life
It gives a tiny stutter
A short moment of strife
But the glow keeps shining
Reaching for the sky
Until the pool of wax subsides--
The last flash is to die
Painting Flowers.I sit here in this meadowPainting Flowers.4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that we used to share
The flowers back then had been full of color
but now you don't care
Each day and night
I hold a paintbrush in my hand
among this foliage
that will soon probably turn to sand
I paint them to their former glory
and try to replicate those wonderful pigments
that glistened and shined
but disappeared and are now a figment
All I do is wait
for the day you will return
so the flowers will live again
but for now I just yearn
If you never come back
and the flowers never become their original hue
Please remember this:
I am still painting flowers for you...
Painting of lifeMy painting weeps colorsPainting of life5 years ago in Surrealism More Like This
sorrow and happiness
dark and light
off the canvas
onto my fingers
Red and orange
like the sunset color
of a warm beating heart
Delicate fingers painted
on the canvas wall
every detail matched
with every branch and line
Blue and black
sorrow and distress
Colors of the rainbow
of the world
of the cosmos
rubies and emeralds
fall out of my eyes
from the old and new colors
Your eyes seep of wonder
I grasp your hands
the symbiotic painting of life