Lest we forget
In Flanders' fields, the poppies blow,
and we who walk among them know
that here men fought, and bravely died
with equal courage, side by side;
the lark has overcome the crow.
We touch the Dead in memory –
embrace them through the century.
The earth enshrines their valiant hearts
in Flanders' fields.
The torch has guttered years ago;
the enemy has been laid low.
And though your names should slowly fade,
your blood a better world has made.
Rest you now where the poppies grow
in Flanders' fields.
Disturbing the PeaceWomen in corsetsDisturbing the Peace3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
disturb the peace.
Mocking SkyThe Texas winter mocksMocking Sky3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with dust instead of snow
and bare mesquite to testify with thorns
against a shred of weakness.
The Texas winter gusts
fiercely from the south -
grit on lips, in eyes, on tongues that wonder
where the deer drink.
The Texas winter sinks
in rust and blood and peaches
beneath the horizon. Sweetly, sweetly,
she sips the clouds.
The Texas winter clothes herself in cicada song,
and all the stars applaud.
KnifeRemember that little humanKnife2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
boy who couldn't read aloud -
who couldn't hold a pen
because his slick corn oil skin
kept sliding past itself?
Boy, oh, boy.
And he was born a hundred
years too late for his cowboy
dreams. He rides herd on the
maybes and the somedays.
He sang a knife song - one
that sliced up the rigid spines
of teachers and parents alike
and parted them before him
like God-spoken seas.
Deft elision somewhere between
his teeth and tongue, lyrical, his
words in other men's mouths.
Knife song honed with lime,
polished with manteca.
NothingI used to be lightning.Nothing2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Power surged beneath my skin,
and in the silence, I heard myself thrum.
I used to be fire.
I burned bright inside, stellar lungs,
and in the cold, I sang myself warm.
Still and dark.
My stone sinews crack.
I am vacuum, deep void of space.
Asteroid dust, floating.
The Little SeedThe Little Seed:The Little Seed3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Little seed floating
Dreaming that he may blossom
Drowned by the currents
-Chen Yuan Wen, Unofficial Release
caring for p(o)etsscribbling down vicious verses oncaring for p(o)ets3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
tissue napkins while seated at
the corner of a sidewalk cafe is
about as romantic, raw and
honest a p(o)et
-outside of the four corners of your bedpost-
if you've got that person dreading over
drafts and dreams on end
-of you, for you-
consider yourself a new owner
it is now time to
tame this p(o)et's perverse mane
you've got your hands on
a fragile purebred
which can be very tricky for
LifePassion.Life3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When you do something because your gut tells you to
When you do something for the love of doing it
When you do something with no monetary goals.
is When it doesn’t matter how many times you talk to someone,
Every time you do it again, it’s a new, exciting, experience
When you do your job without ever having to work
When you can look in the mirror and feel pride without vanity
When a smile is on your face and you don’t know how it got there.
The state of being when you
do what you Love, and Love what you Do;
have Love and Passion
She's Not Your ToyShe's Not Your Toy:She's Not Your Toy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mmm, it's okay sweetie
Just stay quiet
It'll all be over soon...
Creaking springs and quiet eyes
Cold without emotion
The smell of fear is mixed with sweat
Breath like a churning ocean
The waves and tide will push and pull
as water fills the cave
The heart longs to stop itself
when there is nothing left to save
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Jenna
Happy birthday to you...
A shock of pain brings her back to the present
The muscular form above her contracting in the dark
She remembers now that her limbs are pinned
but she would not move them anyway...
Happy birthday sweetheart, you're older now
You've grown up well haven't you...
A single shuddering thrust means that everything has ended
and once again a wet worm is pressed to her lips
The weight lifts from her body, leaving red marks around the wrists
limbs denied blood begin to buzz softly as the silence suffocates
She will not move from here, because i
Pudding and Pie - pt.10 - YAOIPart TenPudding and Pie - pt.10 - YAOI7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Cain walked quietly beside the nurse, his face drawn as they twisted and turned deeper into the ribs of the hospital. He had been called early that morning...
He's ready to leave now, the nurse said conversationally, her rounded eyes glancing at him sideways, He wouldn't tell us his name, or anything else for that matter. But we couldn't just send him away without anyone to escort him. I checked his phone while you were asleep...your name was the only one in the address book. Are...are you his brother, perhaps? Her lips twisted into a knowing smile.
No, Cain said curtly, I'm his boyfriend.
Her smile faded instantly...
* * *
Isaac was curled up on his side, the dark jacket pulled around his shoulders and the worn jeans that hung from his hips seemed out of place in the sterile white atmosphere. His eyes were closed, lids toned a faint shade of purple against his otherwise pale face. Even though he was asleep...he didn't look a
CoppersmithI caught a sun gold.Coppersmith4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Trembling old in my cupped palm, quiet copper,
as my rage on our queen, for so crippling me.
And how too did I rail
against you, Cyprian beloved?
Understand: I grow too old
for bows and arrows, Eros.
Pudding and Pie - pt. 4 - YAOIPart FourPudding and Pie - pt. 4 - YAOI7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The curtains wavered in the thin starlight, the off-white fabrics shot through with natural silvers and blacks. The apartment was dark...as dark as it had ever been. Shadowy outlines were all that remained of the expensive furniture and décor, smudges of gray against the black. The only light filtered through a white sheet that had been thrown over the porcelain shade of a lamp, muting the brilliance that would normally have spilled from its bulb.
Cain knelt under the light, resting his elbows on the couch that he'd positioned there and furrowing his brow at the figure sprawled across it. Isaac hadn't been moving when he'd found him. That alone was enough to steal several heartbeats from the older boy's chest; leaving in their place hollow empty spaces of silence that seemed to last forever. If Isaac had been in bad shape before, he was absolutely crushed now. The only thing that had stopped Cain from taking him directly to the hospital was his caution toward the questio
larksongbirds and grackleslark2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wringing meaning from white
fall to silence
Mother knew the ocean amassed every tear ever shedMother always told me that the most important lessons in life come accompanied by saltwater.Mother knew the ocean amassed every tear ever shed3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I always thought she was carrying a soul too spent and too sullen.
I didn't know how right she was till sometime back, at seventeen.
For it was at seventeen that I was to try through a time where paltry tears- saltwater, was all I could taste, as my world was ripped right out of my ribs, and I experienced my first heartbreak.
I was years too young to search for starfish by the shore, to wish myself an old wives tale cure, all for a classic summer sickness. His sea-foam eyes had plighted me and blighted me. He allowed my knees and ankles to burn in rock salt kisses and promises. I allowed him to sear through my wounds, past and present.
In the end, I almost lost myself to his vastness, and almost drowned in the strength of his currents.
He was far too momentous and I, too infinitesimal.
Summer ended a short-lived romance but romance it was nonetheless. Rock salt senses will always string dé
VaingloryI watched Daedalus cradle his ivory child,Vainglory5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
melted, winged bronze crowned in seaweed:
he released his reckless child,
threw him to the winds in hopeless abandon
watched as the sea ruined him.
Decadent in ripped seashells,
he escapes into obscurity,
exalts the lamented to the point of notoriety -
Tell him I saw his face again
...in Picasso in art in war in despair,
he hid his face, a disgraced Eros
(still winged, still winged,
these wings bind flesh from stone,
from sea-besieged rock)
but still so naked in his shame.
"So desolate, o desolate,
O, so desolate, Daedalus?"
croons the wicked wind,
and the crooked man's back hunches
with weighty wings.
Tell him I read his story in fiction:
in vainglorious masks and molten men,
and in spiral seashells dipped in honey,
molten gold; I open these gates of frozen gold,
hail Apollo, hail lord, hail glory,
and my burden is: my offering I hang
for you to see flight, thy mortal's wings.
DenialDenial:Denial3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He stands before the mountains
and sighs, knowing that they reach toward the heavens
He begins his climb
his hands soon bloodied, his fingers digging into the hardened stone
He continues to drag himself
against the crags that scrape against his peeling skin
Unwilling to end his climb prematurely
though the rocks continue to slice into his flesh
Blood is drawn with a single desperate gasp
as pain rings out throughout his frame
His feet tremble and his hands grow numb
but still he continues to climb ever higher...
The winds threaten to throw him from the face of the mountain
and they slowly begin to waste him away
His body turns to dust and is scattered away amongst the clouds
But still he presses on!
Eventually, all that is left of this man
is a pair of hands clinging stubbornly to the rocks
and though the winds may blow, the man's spirit wills them on
Inch by painful inch they climb, undetered and utterly determined
For even if he lacks a body, even if he has nothing lef
Niu eoa EinEinNiu eoa Ein4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The world is still.
The deer perk their ears up at the crunch of snow under my fur-lined boots, curious. One paws at the ground nervously before taking flight across the open expanse, the herd following in his wake. They spring lightly over twisted roots and disappear in the fog. Another day, another place, perhaps I would follow, take thrill from the zeal of the hunt.
But today has a different purpose.
The World Tree towers no less than before; if anything, it is wider than I recall. The bough reaches into the very clouds, past hills, past mountains; perhaps even past stars. It matters not. I slide the pack from my shoulder, landing it with a heavy thump on the frozen ground, thundering across the silence. I leave it behind, save for Gungnir and a length of rope, padding my way to the Tree.
The bark is slightly warm something hums in the air and the silence returns when I remove my hand.
The Tree demands blood.
The blood has rushed and pooled into my fin
Black HoleIn the center of a galaxy lies a dark vortexBlack Hole3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As young stars branch out it eats away at the old
From this path it will not flex,
For none will it a second withhold
No sun is too big, it devours great power,
Nor, any moon too small to escape notice,
They are all pulled into its depths to disappear forever
Though, it also the force that spins the spiral
The engine that drives, from which purpose derives.
Pudding and Pie - pt. 5 - YAOIPart FivePudding and Pie - pt. 5 - YAOI7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Isaac's eyes fluttered open, remaining half-lidded as he quietly listened.
He let go of the breath he'd been holding, the fear that the strange noise had brought on subsiding as he became aware of what exactly it was. A heartbeat...steady and hushed. Cain's heartbeat, to be exact. A sound that was completely foreign and yet so familiar, Isaac wanted to hold it up to his ear like a seashell frisked up by the waves. Swallowing the sleep in his throat, Isaac painstakingly rolled over and pressed his face into Cain's chest, letting the heartbeat pulse through him.
Cain's hand came at his back, warm from being under the covers all night, his fingers stroking small circles just under the younger boy's shoulder blades. Isaac shivered, and momentarily thought of pulling away before casting the thought aside and simply allowing himself to relax. So what if Cain touched him? They'd spent the entire night in the same bed, for God's sake! Not much else could top that. W
Discarded.You cry for your sorrows and you bleed for your dreams,Discarded.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Just always remember, this world is not what it seems.
You can be the best of friends and then disappear,
They'll just discard you, I know it's hard to hear.
But this has happened enough to me,
It's all everyone's been doing recently.
So here I lie, discarded, fearing to stand up,
Because what waits just isn't worth getting up.
Thrown away and lying in a puddle of mud and blood,
All the other times I got up, and wiped off the mud.
But this time, as I lie here, broken and bloody,
I don't want to get up, I want to be a dead body.
I know getting up is inevitable, because I will never give in,
But I really just want to give up and say that "I'm done in."
On PrecipicioOn Precipicio3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When our wings intertwined
and I fell into your music –
(It flowed like a trance and
dampened my skin with droplets, pianissimo) –
I could have lost myself
in your sonata storm
and let my chitinous scales wash away.
I knew even then
those strings held you bound
in ways I never could.
Boylan BooksI first see Neal across the open sparkle mall floor, paused in serious contemplation thought speaking solely to self, whispers not for ears or voices only thoughts, shining thoughts, open thoughts thinking marvelous wonders of books and dust and corporate-but-not bookstores. His hair is green not really but blue and green pirate green, red bandanna is he a pirate? asks the little girl with pigtails and chocolate snot embarrassed mother shoo be nice that's rude tugging hand with look of so sorry, she's five, not smart enough yet, please forgive and Neal with open half-grin smiling not really there but almost, not speaking but almost, not accepting or forgiving or out-loud speaking but just shelving, shelving, shelving.Boylan Books3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
And when I stretch across open sparkle-sparkle tile mall floor (checked with gum and scuffed tile and not-allowed skateboards) Neal looks up, somewhat barely, face open innocent quiet not-there. I ask applications? Are you hiring? because I need a job but