TF2--Green EyesTF2--Green Eyes4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The passenger train was dark and old, and looked more like a supply train with bus seats tucked to the sides. The lights flickered with every slight bump in the track, and the only way that air seemed to come in was through a few vents close to the ceiling. There were no windows, so he couldn't tell where they were, even after the escorts had taken off his blindfold. Though it didn't really matter. It wasn't like he would have been able to tell.
It was only after these observations that his gray-blue eyes settled on the seat in front of him. Odd, that those escortswhomever they werehad placed him in this specific seat, because every other one was empty except for the one directly facing him. That seat was occupied by a stub of a man, who sat looking equally as confused. His head had just been shaved, it seemed, though there was some fresh stubble already growing along his jaw and under his chin. He wore goggles over his eyes, and there was a yellow hardhat on the seat next
March Haiku3.1.08March Haiku7 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The urban mountains
Stand with silent elegance
Shedding light on me
Don't they know I can hear them?
Please don't let me die
fragile little blossoms ring
the wind sighs
stars peek out to shine
humming in the breeze
strumming on my heartstrings
painted on the walls
stretch into the silence
Old shoes by the trash
Still have some life left in them
For a lost child
Mochi is yummy
Can I have it with ice cream?
I'd like some milk too
Unknown to us from above
He wishes our dreams
Silence surrounds her
Doesn't she know we still care?
Problems are hidden
Beating down the sun
Shades of blue and purple light
The moon waits to rise
I can't believe it
Did I make that perfect shot?!
It's about damn time
Bowlesian Sonnet-en if this paper in your hand was onceBowlesian Sonnet2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
an Aspen, thick with sunny leaves; around
the base of wet and living wood, a ground
that reeks of life and death at once, then conc-
-entrate, and know at least in brief the grand
machine you sleep in, twitching fingers, won-
-dering just how one feels a texture, sun
lights warmth, bare prickled skin, bare feet in sand.
Oh this body. How I will tend to it
seventy-five or eighty. How I will
bend arthritic knees, by five windows, still,
the summers passing. Faithful friend! Now, bit
by bit, you close each window to its clasp.
This paper in your hand was once an Asp-
Sonnet XXIX: An endingThe world bent towards the end I would have writtenSonnet XXIX: An ending7 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
then like a harp-string snapped—the twisted threads
unwound, and all sprung back to what we had been
now I am gutted—and you, I think, are dead.
What use are harps when vaunting horns of silver
proclaim the world has ended; what for me
is left amongst the ruin and raging rivers
of blood and ash, and every tie cut free?
And yet—when your song wound through empty halls
and through your melodies all was reclaimed
I loved it then; that strain; its dying fall--
but tunes are lost, and only words remain.
Yes, only words remain. I cannot write
the wonder in your song—the world alight.
Sunday in the Kitchendear mother,Sunday in the Kitchen6 years ago in Other More Like This
i ask you how far we are from heaven.
hunched over the sunday paper like a patient gargoyle.
your eyes blinking too often, and tongue snaking
around in your mouth, as if the answer is hidden between your teeth.
you hum holy bars in the kitchenette.
say "hallelujah means praise yahweh, praise the lord"
say "angels must rest on the tongue of that word"
say "angels, oh angels hallelujah, hallelujah, rest in me"
but you haven't slept in weeks.
i hear you sob sigh into the night like a prayer.
like your table lamp is the closest thing to heaven-gates.
sometimes i still wish i could pray with you.
pluck off our sorrow feathers and
watch the angels carry them through the ceiling.
hold your hand like a steady branch
and breathe free.
but i know i'd either start laughing, or crying.
and both are told to be inappropriate during prayer.
what rests upon your tongue, but the paste of morning?
the old words, of dead men. the wet remains of one thou
No AtlantisBeneath the mossy bones of the ocean deepNo Atlantis5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Great spires of stone stretch their fingers high
While weaving angels wrap each rocky keep
And strands of strangling seaweed scratch the sky.
Descending deeper in the waiting dark,
Where sea-bound corpses hold a hollowed hall
And gnashing teeth trace their bloody mark,
The rotting planks of piracy that fall.
What mortal man whose breath could sway this land?
What lung could draw in words to speak its part?
The cruel soul of the sea won't spare his hand
To those who've earned his wrath with silent start.
Can souls find sleep in such a strangled thrall,
Where the waves find rest and stop their ceaseless crawl?
Where the waves find rest and stop their ceaseless crawl,
Raking salty claws in sandy shores,
A vain and panicked grasp before they fall;
The home of homespun hypocrites and whores.
The moon reflects in heartless pantomime
A silver orb of glowing innocence
That mocks them as they're punished
Old HandsGrandpa was always the one to do thingsOld Hands1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
-with his own hands.
He built his house,
our playhouses, tepees and dream castles
with his own hands.
Age 70 he was still climbing our roof,
(the one of the real house)
with his own hands.
So the worst thing
the worst thing
the worst thing was
when he had to watch our hands
-we all had come to help-
tend to his beloved garden
while his hands could do
The worst thing was
when he died
-on the inside-
'I am so useless.'
And I wished,
and I wished,
TweetTweet3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Hope was killed after it sung "Tweet"
Why! I needn't wonder my dear beloved sweet
Your tears I tasted one dark night
Drenched in despair I almost lost my sight
Sweetness, on my heart do lie down please
With a rhythm as it beats, your sorrow just release
I see in you a bird locked in a cage
They shot you, a scar undying with age
How does it feel to live without living?
There is light but a grave you are digging
To music, my ears drown deep in non other than ecstasy
Your laughter is the song and your smile is what I wish to see
A beautiful painting more than the Mona Lisa
You are to me, when in their eyes you are a GISA
Should it tire the likes of you that much?
A low life or two discussing you while they munch
God gave you the kiss of life, that's a bless
Among others you are but a king and nothing less
Let me be thy hand young Sire
You know me well I am no liar
Your face I am yearning to wipe dry
From the salty water that left its track to die
You are a name so light on my tongue
1. The Black Rose1. The Black Rose3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Out extended the unwelcome arm,
for my soul to take...
My shadow, with me, trembled,
knowing no way away,
from this inevitable ending of my own.
The pillars of my legs crumbled,
and down I fell...
The arm hesitated,
and to the side tilted the head,
from which came its orders.
Of golden bone was it made,
and its base disappeared
into the caverns its sleeve....
Shying from my sight.
The Robe was black
with a fine woven silk.
I beheld none but black,
and only by will
was any other sight
begotten to my terrified eyes.
Eyes of sapphire gazed down on me,
as my back fell to the ground in terror...
Paralyzed was I in the presence of Death,
But it made no haste against me.
"I am Time, just as history knows me."
He spoke as despondence dove to my ears.
To me did Death speak, as it always had,
but with gentle motion did it cry out...
Yelling to grasp my thought, as it knelt before me.
the leaves beneath it made no cries of pain...
as they were already dead, and decaying.
Again the sapphir
American SoldierIt's dark and It's freezing,American Soldier6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Cold steel in my hand.
Bugs crawl all over me,
In the hole I'm lying in.
Got no one to talk to,
Blood's all that's left of my regimen.
I'm scared and I'm hungry,
Down to my last clip.
Can't help but wonder,
if the people back home,
My life for yours,
That's what it comes down too.
I'll die here on non-American soil,
For resources I'll never use.
And I hope that this war is over soon.
Got a son back home that I've never met.
My wife's pregnant again,
To my best friend.
Can't help but hope,
That my life will make a difference.
My dad died last week,
But I couldn't make it,
To hold my momma while she prayed,
Before the lord could take him.
My life for yours,
That's what it comes down too,
I'll die here on non-American soil,
For resources I'll never use.
And I hope that this war is over soon.
Just last night,
My buddy and me,
Were talking about the election,
About how if Obama,
Had been President,
We RememberPLEASE READ THE ARTIST COMMENTS BELOW BEFORE READING. THANK YOU!We Remember4 years ago in Drama More Like This
It was not a day that the world was expecting.
In fact, it had been a normal day for everyone. In cities around the world, people went about their daily lives, working in buildings that reached the clouds. People around the world were either going to work or getting home to see their family, which was just another normal day for humanity.
But in America, it was going to be one of the most devastating moments in history.
Arthur sat in his living room with a cup of tea in his hand, watching something on the TV that he wasn't really paying attention to. Instead, he was concentrating on drinking his tea while he thought of the day. It had been boring; he had gone to work and helped out several members of Parliament in their normal discussions before he returned home for the rest of the day.
Arthur had not wanted to stay at work the entire day, since the night before he had stayed up talking to Alfred
Black SpotBlack Spot4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
From a young age I've had a black spot,
It lies in my soul and reminds me what I'm not.
As time goes by it grows and grows,
And even though it's big, no one knows.
Sometimes it makes my life seem surreal,
Still it's hard for me to explain how I feel.
It's sadness, its pain; it's ever so deep,
It never goes away, not even when I sleep.
Its chaos, regret and a whole lot of confusion,
It doesn't seem to have any kind of solution.
My worst enemy and my closest friend,
It will be part of me till my dying end.
So I'm learning to live with this spot I've been given,
And to find happiness I'll forever be driven.
AmericaxAbused!reader I'll be your hero part 1AmericaxAbused!reader I'll be your hero part 13 years ago in Romance More Like This
You stared at the poster taped to the wall. You blinked and leaned forward, your hand's in your pockets.
"Prom next week." You read, standing up. You smirked, and turned around.
"No way I'm going." You said, leaning your head back. That's one of the good things about being a loner; people don't ask you to things like that. You felt a sharp stab of pain shoot up your arm.
"Damn." You mumbled, rubbing it. It was defiantly getting worse. You quickly rolled up your sleeve, and winced. The bruises had gotten darker, and that lump was bigger. You put your sleeve back down and looked towards the oak door that led to the nurse's office.
"Maybe i should " You shook your head. You didn't need the nurse to know you where abused. You started walking towards your English class, excuses running thru your head.
"I need to walk the dog? No." you looked down at the tile floor steadily moving beneath your feet.
"What's a good excuse?" you mumbled stopping at the door. You clasped you han
Here Blooms the DayHere blooms the day! Unrepressed -Here Blooms the Day3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Eschewing cast or mold;
Here blooms, on every leafy tress,
A white lily - tulip - rose;
One plucked for simple vanity -
One cleaved from kin and fold;
If sorrowed by, still thinly sweet -
Still winter bright - still bold;
I fixed my hope on a simple truth:
Dreams shall flourish - grow;
Mine, included - a steadfast rule -
My dreams loomed grandiose.
How startling, then - how easy -
To dispatch a budding rose,
Into the dust where memories steep
Apart the restless world.
Poison Apple Book PreviewPoison Apple Book Preview9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Liam T. Dredd and Diaphanous Haze
Were married in not unusual ways.
They booked a cathedral, they made their vows,
Bought as much insurance as the state allows.
He called her Daffi, She called him Lee,
He wrote out their wills, she made them some tea.
"I'll sign the papers if you will," she said.
"A million if either of us drops dead."
"I have a confession, my dear," said he.
"Counting the others, you're Wife Number Three.
"My dear exes were strangled, drowned and shot,
They left me quite lonely, but left me a lot."
"How sad!" said Daffi with a secret smile,
"But at least your marriages were worthwhile.
"Now, my late husbands, of which there were four,
Never gave me a penny. That's why they're no more."
"It seems I'll be careful from now on," Lee sighed,
"For I've finally found my match in a bride.
"And speaking of matches, look under your chair,
I've hidden a clever bomb under there."
"Oh, I found it," said Daffi, "I'm afraid it's destroyed
"That charming young housemaid w
Undressing PoetryShe clothes herself in poetry,Undressing Poetry3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
seals her skin within the verse.
Each line becomes another garment
that conceals her fixed form's curvature,
but peels away when read.
Last night I dissected a stanza,
clamped it tight between my teeth
and tugged it down her legs.
Her body breathes warm and sweet,
speckled red like a summer strawberry field.
I sucked the juice from her lines and
spit the punctuation like seeds.
My lips mouthed the shape of her words
as my skin grew more sticky with
every splash of imagery dripping down my chin.
I peeled apart her soft pages
with sticky, pink fingertips that left them
clinging to my skin.
A single flawless line remained
between the cloak of poetry, her and me,
so we spoke the words in unison,
revealing everything and setting her verse free.
58. Kick in the Head58. Kick in the Head58. Kick in the Head7 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
There was a pause.
Kit angrily looked up from his long-ass research report to see his vampire boyfriend sitting beside him. Reinir was trying to amuse himself by spinning around in Kits spinny-chair, but it was evidently failing terribly.
Lets play Kit! Reinir suggested in his innocent-enough voice.
I told you before Reinir, I cant! Kit replied grumpily. I have a report due tomorrow, and I havent even started typing it!
Reinir whined. But Kiiiiiiiit-
No buts, Kit replied sternly. You have to wait. I have to go to the library to type this soon.
Suddenly, Reinir lunged at Kit. Kit let out a scream as Reinir knocked him off his chair and onto the hard ground with a highly unpleasant thud.
REINIR! Kit yelled with anger
Letters from Home 3Dear Kaine,Letters from Home 37 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
You dont know how relieved I am to hear from you. Nor how relieved I am to hear about your victory. Congratulations! Im so happy for you! Everyone wants you home so badly.
Ive been so busy in these past few months; Ive barely had any time to worry about you. Im getting very big, as you can see from the pictures I included. My baby loves kicking me; its the most magical thing. I wish you were here to share this experience with me. We havent decided on what to name him yet, but I was thinking wed name him after you. Although my husband wants his first son named after him. But Im pushing for your name, so well see.
These two friends of yours, Marta and Faye; they are very attractive. I hope nothing is going on with you and them. The fact that you have two of these friends disconcerts me. Do tell me about them.
And Kaine, you know Im going to have to smack you when I see you next. I dont like yo
Every Person is UniqueEvery Person is Unique3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
People are amazing things,
They don't have fins or even wings.
But what makes them amazing is that each one is unique,
And even though good looks are what some seek,
I go by the person, not whether they are chic.
Every person is different and has a personality,
That comes with their own special mentality.
Whether they are short or tall,
To-die-for handsome or ugly as a wall,
Just remember this one life technique;
Every person is unique.
Troy...or notTroy or notTroy...or not8 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
By the Gods! snapped Helen, standing resplendent in the middle of the battlefield, will noone ask me whether I want to go back or not? Even though Im the one being fought over, no one even tries to ask my opinion about it!
The two rival armies had come to a halt on either side of the legendary beauty, gaping at her in amazement. Menelaus was standing at the head of his army, holding an unsheathed sword, with his mouth hanging open, looking utterly stupid, as his slow brain tried to figure out why his wife was behaving like that. From the time he had known her, she had always been so meek and obedient, always listening to him and giving him whatever he asked for. Now she was a veritable lioness, standing there roaring away loudly enough to scare the hair off a man.
Now that she had grabbed everyones attention, Helen cleared her throat and continued none too mildly
I dont know why you bunch of id