the secret of lost thingsan old book isthe secret of lost things3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
something like a dead grandmother;
silent everywhere but in your mind
Imitating NatureThe morning sun streamed through a series of large plate glass windows lining the library's east wall, its rays warming the room's wooden paneling and illuminating the cavernous space. Tall bookshelves stuffed with literature from across the world towered over polished oak reading tables, each furnished with a plain, green-shaded banker's lamp. On the far side, a massive painting gracing the west wall depicted the solemn face of Saint Patrick, whose protective presence could be felt watching over the library's sole visitor.Imitating Nature3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
All was perfectly quiet, save for a tap, tap, tapping that echoed in the otherwise silent room. Seated at a desk near the door, glued to the screen of his laptop, Eoghan quietly tapped his pen against the notepad in his lap as his eyes scanned through the different news reports.
Another roadside bomb outside of Kandahar, three dead, all soldiers. God frowns upon careless mistakes gentlemen. You should have noticed the dead dog along the side of the road.
The Story of Half an HourI hate Christmas Eve. I haven't always. It started when I was old enough to realize it was bad that boys didn't like me, and that same hatred has continued to this day. All of my friends are busy being cutesy with their boyfriends and I'm stuck, in a bar, in New York, alone.The Story of Half an Hour2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Don't get me wrong, I'd rather be stuck in New York for Christmas than be back in my tiny town in Northern California, but I'd also rather be spending it with someone special. Someone who'd give me a necklace, or heck, anything, smothered in love. Instead, I am sitting on a stool, fingering the fraying edges of my black fingerless gloves while I listen to the bartender breaking up a fight.
Lifting my head slightly, I survey the bar. There are quite a few single men, but the majority of them are not attractive, like the guy over in the corner with thick, bulky glasses and a large pimple on his nose or the burly man with huge arms covered with tattoos of half naked women. Averting my eyes, I turn instead to the other
Your Name's My Best ObscenityThe sweetest curses are sugar on lipsYour Name's My Best Obscenity3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
If I died this evening, you'd find your name
aflame- the words I last shouted in vain
lingering on my tongue like a toxic kiss-
revenge is addicting, venomous pain,
even spent on cries I know are mundane
No fixing up this unholiest tryst,
forged by two fools who believed in their lies;
or maybe it was I, eager for light
even in spite of the flaws I had seen
Can light be fake? Were your twinkling eyes
a mere disguise to make me ignite?
Aflame, in vain, impure light fuels my screams
Cobwebbedcobwebbed chandelier hanging over aCobwebbed3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
cobwebbed corpse. the room devoid
of light, but full of the
left behind by the murdered
and the lost --
unable to find
their way home
the beauty's in the leavingRead aloud here.the beauty's in the leaving2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
sweetheart, let's head out. let's
drink up the desert asphalt and that last bottle
of johnny walker blue--
one last toast to the copper sunsets,
to the good earth. a pair of
tailgate stargazers, you and i:
roaming curves across the glove compartment map, until
every foldline is worn flannel-soft
and it'd rather stay open
let's forget route sixty-six. let's forget
and pick up terra cotta dust--
breathe in the mojave. let's pretend
that the world's already ended
and it's just us.
let's leave the door unlocked
The Doppelganger 2The book still sings to me, and that's when I pull it from under my bed and stroke the cover. But I never open it, because I know what happens if I do it wrong. It's still blank; but only of ink. I know the secret, you see. It's how I understand the songs, and know the melodies it echoes up to me, through time. There are impressions hidden in the pages- spilled mead and raucous laughter, summer sunshine and frost on dead leaves. The last time I tried feeling them from start to finish, I passed out from the sheer weight of knowledge, and it left my brain scrambled for ages.The Doppelganger 23 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I found out things about my past and my family's past. I have Irish on my dad's side of the family, stretching back generations. I'd have said I was surprised when I found out, but that would have been a lie.
People say I've changed since last spring. My face is thinner, my eyes are brighter, I've been "brought out of myself." What they don't know is that I've actually met myself. I've taken to wearing rich, d
hanging from the rafters in the skyclocks in a motel room;hanging from the rafters in the sky2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
the years go by like one day
with these old photos in my hands.
how do cities understand?
that by skating on the edge of the world
we carve north stars in Styrofoam
on the edge of reality.
we are all waiting to be found
when stars die.
(i used to have a name)
now i'm dreaming of the simple things,
and i'm ready to fight my way.
somebody told me:
"i have loved the stars too fondly."
between gray and gold
there are flaking photographs and shattered memories;
the heartlines of drunken sinners chasing stars.
cold hearted, you bound our spines.
(and breathe out)
it is not enough to know the colors of my soul,
like a painting hung all wrong, or
and unwanted diary.
dreams catch in the lungs.
let go, little bird.
(but don't forget me)
without you, my fickle muse,
the city daydreams,
desperate to connect with
the world near your feet.
(lost wishes can be found
symphonic miseryyou lied the night you kissed me,symphonic misery2 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
a vision of blood and deconstruction;
feelings with no names.
we were a february tale in a twisted corset.
i can't breathe in your presence
because our still-life fairytale
is your prisoner of war.
the oracle card in my pocket
gave me a revelation:
"love makes us blind;"
(or so it seems)
now, our seasons of knowledge
are just temporary bad memories,
but there is no more music in me.
OdiumBlack and blue,Odium3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
skin and sky
water down the drain,
as the red line of dawn
breaks over skeleton trees and
preludesi.preludes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
blue rose into the city backdrop
like balloons, a million for the
morning sun prelude.
i've not slept a dream
but i have cried a salty face
and letters spilled like beans
into my moleskine,
almost as virgin as i once was
with few stories between my covers.
the kettle's belly boils
like my head upon a pillow.
i am guilty for rarely finishing my tea
even when i use the small mugs;
pour, rinse, repeat.
perhaps today i will play dead.
perched behind my blinds
it dawns on me that i am surrounded
by walled neighbours, strangers,
they're just preludes to lovers
the way i am always
prelude to the one.
Unknown, untold:and i wonder if, behindUnknown, untold:2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
those stuttering moments
of confusion, you
are a poet;
perhaps i have
stumbled on your ramblings
in some dark
corner - stumbled on them
and loved them as
often as i have found myself
PressureSomething broke.Pressure3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A hard CRACK while sitting in
a soft chair. No pain registered.
The absence of it
is like watching explosions in space.
You follow the curve of your skull. You remember
how skulls are formed like tectonic plates.
Your head wants to be a planet,
volcanic, living, in change.
You continue to your left shoulder,
the one with all the problems.
But today, it has nothing to say.
Your rib cage moves
like oceanic waves, expecting a storm
that hasn't come.
You stand up,
you consider your legs,
nothing feels wrong,
But you can break
more than your body.
Storybook AddictionsI want you to love me as much as you doStorybook Addictions3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the thorns in your side; seeds planted and
forgotten and bleeding cyclically.
when the swallowed night drowns and
drains darkness like a trickled lullaby, I want
to be the last thing in your dreams.
I want to be your mistake East of Eden, your lack
of redemption; when they tear apart your paper
flesh with metal claws, I want to be the one you
come crawling back to with bloodied knees.
[right now I am an empty vessel, unfulfilled
and metaphorically obsolete. I want to clear
my throat for once, without seeing the ashes
of my disease.]
I want to love you like a swansong;
breezes make your bones ache and
I am always cold-- no one wants the
wind: it bites and they identify my
prickled flesh as its invitation.
[I wish I weren’t the pendulum
around your neck, counting the days
until you’d finally leave]
I only ever wanted you to love me.
rootslike drowned men who have lost theirroots4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
clothes and faces, they lay suspended
facing the sun and grinning without
eyes through the ripples of the water.
those passing by wonder how they got here,
these homeless men without fingers or toes
long spindly stumps twisting into lost roots:
reaching to the east, to the south,
to the homes they have forgotten.
The ElementsI.The Elements3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wine as red as stained glass
is lifted up & tilted back
touch wood like thunder
having given up grace
thread across wrists & palms
spent vessels returning to the heart
Fingertips suffused with pulse
lift to lightning's loveliness
The Old God, Savitrॐ भूर्भुव: स्व: तत्सवितुर्वरेण्यं ।The Old God, Savitr4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
भर्गो देवस्य धीमहि, धीयो यो न: प्रचोदयात् ।।
The wind blew sand into your nonchalant soul,
and your heart coughed. I entered the circle
at night, and I was consumed by fire. I did not
know of you then. I have fractured myself into
a thousand souls: but they are all whole, for I did
see you in my absence. Yet you? - you
were sailing, and your head was
full of water light.
I was significant when your mother poured out water
in a copper pot from a balcony; water, which
caught and held the moon, and then spilled over
with a quiet radiance. You wondered whether
the moon l
Car tout finit un jour... - Because everything... (English version below)Car tout finit un jour... - Because everything...3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Car tout finit un jour...
Dans tes yeux noirs où se perdent les ombres,
Immergés de spleen et d'ouragans sombres,
Assassine étoile en proie aux vingt ans,
N'oublie ta joie, ton courage d'antan.
Ah que le temps vienne où les fleurs s'égrainent !
Nos rires sous les toits bleus, nos fredaines
Oubliées, resteront à jamais les
Germes d'un été, mort abandonné.
Une lettre commencée, une plume
Egarée. Car dès lors de cette plume
Il faut tirer un trait, comme à l'enclume
Retirer l'épée. Des maux que j'exhume,
Aie confiance en eux. Ils laisseront ton
Chemin loin des issus malheureux. Mon
Oracle, ma muse. Nous n'irons jamais
Sous l'arbre fleurit, où je t'aurais donné
Toutes les splendeurs d'Italie. Adieu,
Au revoir, puisse l'air être tes yeux !
Because everything will end one day
In your black eyes where shades disappear,
Whiskey Laden DreamsBitter eyes and tears might taint a drink, but sitting in this bar alone with your stool pulled out next to me, and the Martini poured regardless of your presence still brings a smile to my face; despite the taste. I'm having a whiskey myself; dry. Yes, I know I don't drink, but every once in a while you need whiskey to solve an intricate problem, and mine is the distinct lack of alcohol in my life.Whiskey Laden Dreams3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There are people everywhere and it amazes me how none of them are you, from the woman in the black dress coming down the stairs to the signing couple in the corner, laughing silently. They're not you at all, and that's what's amazing in an ocean of coal you're a marble pebble, smooth to the touch and pleasant to the eye, and you don't leave me scarred.
I'll kick back the tumbler for now, refilling your drink when necessary, despite you never having it. The waitress will look at me with tired eyes and concerned words, but I'll insist I'm drinking with a friend, whilst that sad g
caged.A light rests on the lake,caged.2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Illuminating the ache
I harbor deep inside me;
All I long for is to be free.
I look at the shackles
Keeping captive my ankles,
Leading back to the sea.
All I long for is to be free.
The wind rustles through my hair,
But All I can do is stare
At the figure keeping me from fleeing.
All I long for is to be free.
in terminusyou say my timeline is infinitesimalin terminus2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when compared to your hourglass
anatomy; a never ending cycle ticking
time away like a metronome, and
again gravity refuses to bend for me;
i cannot see the fault lines in our skies
any longer. my crystal ball is cloudy,
filled to the brink of destruction --
your broken words and the obscure
misology that is to be our fate.