cursive linessometimes I wonder what it iscursive lines2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beneath my ribs
that beats and flutters so
and rises with the words
of a crooning song,
the lyrics a cry for freedom,
the notes a bid for flight
it feels as though it wants to burst,
(if it swells any more)
I will rise on its current
floating away in the wind,
the freest bird in the sky
but the cold of the world
drags me down;
the beat within the white cage
the fluttery throb of hope
all but lost
for though I reach out,
my fingers grazing the rough edges
of my unfulfilled dreams,
they tease my fumbling grasp
and withdraw out of reach
I wish to sing,
to let my voice be carried
to the ends of the world
as my inky fingers
dip again into the feathery depths
of my inspiration's well,
my fingerprints everywhere
Canvas Is The MirrorA canvas is a mirrorCanvas Is The Mirror2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The paint drips down with my reflection
The canvas is my mirror
But only because
The canvas is me.
The canvas is your mirror
As the brush tickles its surface
The canvas is our mirror
The canvas is a mirror
The depth of the artwork stares back into my
After all, I do not paint a canvas
Because the canvas
If I write you a songEveryone is talkingIf I write you a song3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
About how you want to make it big
That you want to be a Rockstar
That you've already booked a gig
You've always been so beautiful
But never content with who you are
Think you deserve to have the spotlight
And to be married to a Star
They say that you want someone
who'll sing for you in front of the whole world
Who'll dedicate you all his lyrics
Who will scream you were his girl
What if I wrote you a song?
will it change the way you look at me?
I wonder if it'd take me like long
Can I use this love to form the perfect melody?
Use the rhythm that you give my heart
A fast tempo like the way you make it beat
Turn these feeling into lyrics
That can make this song complete
I might never be a Rockstar
People will never know my name
But I promise you that no one
Can love you quite the same
I've never been good at singing
But I will scream this to the world
You will always hold the spotlight
If you decide to be my girl
Everyone is talking
That you want to be a star
Just A PoetI never realized I cared so muchJust A Poet3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
about what other people thought
I always thought I wrote
because it gave me the outlet that I sought
Was I not writing to vent out
wasn't every word that I thought out
meant to fight the urge I had to shout
Wasn't that what this was all about
When did losing fans
start to inflict in me this doubt
Wasn't this pen
meant to be my voice
a crescendo of agonizing screams
heard without making a noise
No. Its more than just my voice
It was meant to live a dream
When pain molds into beauty
And starts to fix a broken self-esteem
But when people cheer your name
it starts getting to your head
I forgot to write for me
and wrote for them instead
But that wasn't me
so it all came crashing to the ground
I asked myself why I was writing
but there was no answer to be found
Losing sight of who I was
Or the reason I was crowned
started feeling insecurity
In the darkness where I was left to drown
This pen fits perfectly inside my hand
Its still linked to my heart
and has to
crooningI breathed you into existence,crooning2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
crooning the song of your creation
with a lilting melody of ichor and ink,
and you rose from the scarlet ashes
of my flaming heart
as fledglings with iridescent feathers
dipped in the silver of my liquid soul
you matured to become creatures
of beauty and light,
shimmering with the jewels
of a thousand tears
and glimmering with the glow
of the blinking stars
behind our black, broken ceiling
but your beauty is not only
a product of love and music,
for your father was the raw harshness
of this life and its trials,
and you are as much
the offspring of pain
as you are the begotten of love
you were created in the valley
between my shoulder blades
as I flexed in agony at his torture,
ravaged by the thousand raging angers
and million bitter hatreds
that plagued his fevered mind
and drove him to such violence
my body became a canvas
splashed with scarlet and ebony,
a toy he could use to test
just how contorted he could force it to be –
skin stretching, muscl
we scratched our names into cementi.we scratched our names into cement2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that moment when a phrase lights me on fire,
you’re there to take notes
we are strange, unnatural and mismatched –
in a “cute” way, my friends like to say
they don’t see the parallels that tie us together
with steel ribbons, interlocked bows tied in intricate knots
we have matching wrists and synched heartbeats,
not to mention a common rhythm that drives our words
in that complicated beat only we can unravel.
my body is void of expression; but still, we can fly,
carried by the strains of music constantly escaping my lips
while you complete the harmonies just by listening
and watching me try to be beautiful in my trembling alto
in those moments
the rest doesn’t matter
because we’ve already scratched our names into cement,
along with the word
How To WriteHow to write:How To Write2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Write a word.
Now write a sentence.
Write a paragraph.
The end. ♥
Lights and LoveIf I lit a little crimson candleLights and Love3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
for every crystalline tear I cried,
for every shaky breath I sighed
and every time I've almost died
when you looked into my eyes
My house would be filled with light,
and the heat of a thousand flames
that writhe and dance and play games
of flickering fun and flirty aims,
as if to taunt me and my pain.
So I pick them up, one by one,
while they continue their wild dance,
with a deep bow and a little prance,
as if their devious aim is to entrance.
They don't understand: their purpose
is to light my heart and warm my soul.
They light the pier in a soft glow
that doesn't rival the moon's show
silver brilliance, beams white as snow.
My eyes gleam with tears unknown.
The beauty of the night is lost on me
the moon, the stars, the candle light
the little flames dance with growing fright
as they bleed red tears in the night,
their life burning and bleeding away
as I sit there and weep and pray
for the day we are together again.
InkI wish I could inhale ink,Ink2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that it would infuse my fragile body
with the ichor of inspiration,
marking me as its own:
a beautiful child of the Muse
born to wield ink and pen
like a jagged sable sword;
with the ability
to sing truth and spin epics,
I would be the quintessence
of a writing-imbued soul
I wish the ebony liquid
of the poets and great storytellers of old
would seep its way into my veins,
cloaking my blood in thick shadow,
coloring my hair with dark secrets,
so that every glimpse of me
would echo with the whispers
of spider-webbed story
and lilting poetry,
every reflection of me shrieking
the screams of unuttered truth
my eyes would shine with dreams
full of wonder and glorious chaos,
whirling with the intricacies of humanity
and the conundrum of eternity,
the simple beauty of nature
and the unexpected depth in children,
the epics of ancient time
and the words of the new,
the complexity of emotion
and the raw surge of knowing
what life might mean
what else would control me bu
Bride of the Dying WestBride of the Dying West2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She stands, clothed in white
In fields of scorching sand.
As the dust storms
Leave her panting lungs.
A grin with a lack of the sane mind
Discovers her lips,
As she dances with the bones
Of dead rabbits...
Screaming the schizophrenic duet.
There must be some amount of meaning
Some morsel of purpose...
Her eyes are blind with boiling tears,
But still she smiles,
Dancing with those accursed rabbits.
As her bare feet reveal themselves
behind a ruined wedding dress,
They are not but bone and melted skin...
Ground away by her endless movement.
Ignored by her last nerve.
She stops in mid pose...
Her face of melancholy.
The tears burn away her cheeks,
Her gaze finds me,
With a scream, she dissipates into air.
Sorry I'm Not SorryWondrous burdens at the very pit of despair...Sorry I'm Not Sorry2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Shadows consume me, as I fall once again
Faster and farther into the broken abyss,
And I lose all of my senses.
Disappearing into waning light,
I want to reach out and grab onto it
Before it leaves me forever in the darkness...
Sitting in the sun, I'm smiling for you,
And wishing I could go back to that time
When everything was simple;
When I understood the balance of all things.
I would give anything
Just to have that golden moment back
When I was at peace with myself.
Little things which touch our lives
Can be treasured forever through memory,
But when recreated in such a vast way...
I am hit by such waves of nostalgia...
I will always be
Virtuously, courageously, inexplicably,
Inexcusably, undeniably ME...
And I am not sorry for that.
The DancerNo sound do her feet makeThe Dancer3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Nor are her hands empty
As she treads on the polished, springy floor.
Ever her toes and ankles ache,
And her knees hurt already –
They pay the price for her dreams to soar.
She turns the music on,
The piano plays with emotion,
And she becomes like a river's cold, clear water:
Fluidity, her slender arms don,
Her eyes blue as the ocean,
She begins her dance without a single totter.
Limbs begin to move in time,
Feet start their soft thumping,
Her whole body writhes in molten movement,
Her weaving and winding, sublime.
On each crescendo jumping,
And every moment whirling, she embodies lament.
She reaches out to an unknown,
But pulls back and crumbles.
From the motionless heap comes a little cry –
Up looks a teary face of stone,
A mix of genuine and scumble;
For she dances to escape, to run away, to fly.
Spins, twists and she's off balance,
But still moving, so painfully.
Aches in her hard muscles and willowy limbs
Make her wince in her stance,
And dance all the mo
A Desired DuetA Desired Duet2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We can find a song
and sing it together.
we can write one
and make it our own.
What time has done
has only tested and healed.
Would we kiss with tears in
our eyes and duet between our hearts?
Constancy conducts a symphony as they sing...
and the song & dance never end.
When it rains it pours, and we dance
and we stumble all the while, smiling.
Beheld in the reflection of our eyes as we become closer than ever,
leaning in for yet another kiss.
What have we to lose, here on in?
Faith places the stepping stones before us.
Our choices are made as one flesh
that works in perfect unity.
The tests can come only from the outside...
never from within.
Let the song we write,
be written as a legend.
What time does is write
the greatest of our songs for us.
Dust on the Lensi.Dust on the Lens2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He took photographs
as if he were loving
with a broken heart—
Careful set up—
The lighting soft
To smooth the harsh shadows
The colors just right
Sighing against the eye
The model all wrong,
Yet interminably perfect.
He took photographs
as if he were taking a life
Or in the way you fall asleep
or fall in love—
“Slowly, then all at once.”
When he took my photograph,
he also took my breath
and the beat my heart skipped.
AubadeBecause sometimes you realize it's dawn,Aubade2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and your heart aches for someone.
Your fingers tremble too hard
and your tongue feels swollen in your mouth.
Lips press against the pillow case that used to
carry her scent, used to hold the warm
indent that meant another body was there with you.
The indent is gone, left stale,
like too-old coffee sitting out on the
Hands used itch for something to hold, but something
isn't cutting it anymore.
You need someone, you realize.
It gets lonely on your own.
It's like forgetting how to write, forgetting how
to breathe, like
watching yourself fall apart,
unable to do a damn thing.
Lonely songs bleed out fragmented memories,
ripped raw and broken from your throat as if maybe
thinking about it could bring them back.
As if maybe music could save you,
could give you cold toes pressed against the
backs of your knees at midnight.
Sometimes you realize it's dawn,
and your heart aches for someone.