Written LegacyOne day,Written Legacy2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
You'll all soon see,
It's just me,
And my written legacy.
By DesignRhys held his wife's hand as she tapped her foot nervously, staring at the door. They'd been waiting half an hour already for the doctor, and their appointment was supposed to be forty minutes ago. He appreciated the quiet of the room, but the silence made Wanda anxious.By Design8 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Everything's going to be okay, Wanda," he reassured her, squeezing her hand gently. "One of my coworkers has been through this and he says it's nothing. They're just going to ask a few questions, and take a sample of--"
"You know how much I hate needles, Rhys!" Wanda snapped, ripping her hand away. She shook her head and placed her hand on his knee. "I'm sorry. I really don't like doctors."
"I know, sweetie."
The door opened and Wanda jumped a little bit out of her seat. The doctor came into the room holding a clipboard and a pen and smiled politely at his patients.
The feigned sincerity of the smile was almost as convincing as the perfectly straight, titanium white teet
Hopeful ImprisonmentDefiant flowers bloomHopeful Imprisonment2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Beyond his Cage.
NathanielHe told me he wouldNathaniel2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
take me on a picnic
of strawberries and wine,
in an Italian vineyard
...and then he was gone.
All that remained
were memories of
kisses we shared,
engulfed in soft city lights,
and a tattered napkin
bearing a hastily scribbled
message with cruel words:
My pilgrimage is,
Around my shoulders,
by a lover's (goodbye) kisses,
I wrapped a shawl,
and daydreamed of falling
from the marble balcony,
like a tarnished Euro,
into the Trevi fountain.
I tossed the note
to the wind that whispered
"Nathaniel" in my ear,
and let it drift down alleys
into the Tiber,
where it could decay
like my empty ribcage.
CherriesSweet on the tongue, you lay with meCherries7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the ripeness of desire, and I recall
the whisper of your breath along my ear.
Never mind about tomorrow, love
forswear the sullen seed that fell before;
now I am here.
Fireflies prayFireflies prayFireflies pray1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
within glass cells
for lifetimes of freedom,
only to perish
The Ringslender, tarnished silver bandThe Ring2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
rests in palm of withered hand
ancient promise, absent stare
detritus falls like snow on hair
wedding present grand oak bed
ghosts of words the mirror said
rain-rot splintered windowsills
caustic crumbs of guilty pills
footprints in the carpet dust
canopy of velvet shame
the progeny of lies and tears
divests her of her souvenirs
and grateful for the life she gave
the heirloom never meets the grave
I bet you cut"I bet you cut yourself," he says and it takesI bet you cut2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
All of me and more, and there is nothing to take. I laugh
and cry a little inside. Die a little more and smile
"Of course not."
He stares at me and it's like one of those dreams where you're
Naked and I want to shove my guts in my mouth and burn in Heaven,
rip my scalpel through my thigh, throw my skull at a window and let the
Pain in my body overwhelm the pain in my heart.
"I'm joking," he says and I think I should feel bad for him, instead I
Hate him a little. He's grinning and I think about how I'd love to
Carve his face into the Joker.
"I know," I say and I hate myself a little, too.
He's gone back to me, front to his friends
and you'd think this was to become a nice old love story but
Happy endings only happen in books.
"I do," I whisper and I laugh because it sounds like a wedding vow and I
don't think I'll marry and I don't think I can. I'm scarred and eventually
my scars will have scars
and there will be no amoun
Hello NowHello.Hello Now2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I don't know how to greet you
I only know that I have always thought of you as something
I could hold in my hands
a fistful of minnows before
puncture their own bones
and secrete the abalone glaze of their eyes
into a film on the dock
Until now I have since kept you as
a flighted likeness
of my mind
knowing too the cold of a multiplied sunset
ending in frost and space between rivers
the fragrance of a sweetly decomposing
salmonberry, telling time for reddening chinook to end
sweeping like a wind in the parts between birches
or of it's stain that I would palm and carry
thinking also of endings and beginnings
in such order
when gulls eat the cartilidge and fur
from animals put on the silted banks
of the knik
a place where the sun can fall deeply
as I am no longer alone,
and we hear the chickadees being the trees
and the loons wanting to make night
could it be appropriate now,
while twilight is flaming
to finally know your name?
Lend me a kissLend me your sweet lipsLend me a kiss1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Give me a soft kiss
Stay with me till the end
Let's stop playing pretend
Don't let my heart break
Let's learn from our mistakes
I'll let your love embrace
Mend me with your lovely grace
They never leave my mind
Your cherry colored lips
The roses that I have picked
And the sweetness that one day I'll kiss
MemoryMemory is like the tide,Memory2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It swells and ebbs;
It's free and wide,
Yet ridden with dregs.
At times it's calm
Soothing and sweet;
Like a tender balm,
A gentle beat.
It's violent, too
Coarse and bitter;
Like a vicious coup,
A cruel winter.
In it, I do bask,
Adrift in my mind;
I need only ask
To be lost in time.
The Conversationyou lied.The Conversation2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
'I'm not judging you,'
reaching for my shoulder
as I pulled away.
The ground is easier
on my eyes
than your disapproving
Then came the confessions:
-- mine was unwilling,
-- yours was blunt.
I stopped wanting
to be you ages ago,
when I finally found
myself in scribbled lines
and fragile pages,
but now I see,
minus the cigarettes
we're exactly the same.
quiet girl secrets
began to evolve
into a life
of my own,
one I cherished
Just one private
I decided it's healthy
to have secrets.
(Just little ones.)
I kept them
locked up in
dozens of notebooks,
usually in black ink.
'I'll never judge you,'
holding my fragile
I gazed upon you
with such admiration;
I wanted to
minus the cigarettes.
but you never told me
LustHis hands have a habit of finding my hip bones,Lust2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
trailing his river like fingers along my stone smooth skin,
his lips do not move, his mouth tells me stories.
Mine spend their time
tracing the length and breadth
of his back in kisses*
We travel through lands that never existed
before we touched them
At temperatures far exceeding in Fahrenheit
If only we could understand
how lust and geography
make such divinely sinful bedmates.
* One hundred and sixteen
Every Angel Deserves a Child"I can't feel the unfurling of my wings, Daddy."Every Angel Deserves a Child11 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
I was not her father. I had entered her life when she was two years old, and she called me Daddy since she never knew her real father. Her mother's death two years ago made me the sole, living parent of an thirteen year-old, and I never felt like I was the right person for the job.
"What do you mean, Asrin?"
"Mom always said that when puberty started I would be the swan that emerged from the ugly duckling. She said I would be able to fly gracefully towards my dreams. But, I don't feel it."
As much of a woman as she was becoming, she was still a child. I wanted to answer her question, but I really had a hard time discussing her blossoming womanhood in the middle of a laundromat. Her pretty eyes were pleading with me, but I told her we'd talk later.
Janet had told Asrin a lot of things before she succumbed to the cancer. The last week or so of Janet's life were morphine-induced fantasy, I think.
Janet and I had met during
DaddyDaddy,Daddy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
aren't you proud of me?
Haven't I done enough Daddy?
Am I not your little girl?
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
but can you please come back?
I promise I'll do better.
I promise I can be perfect.
Don't you love me?
Look I drew you a picture,
will you come home now?
Where did you go?
Please come back.
Mommy says you don't care anymore
but I know it's not true.
It can't be true.
You don't even call anymore.
You said you loved me
and that I was your princess,
then why aren't you here?
Please come home.
I want my Daddy back.
Not mineHe's perfectNot mine2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He's a good hugger
He's a listener
He's her boyfriend
She's one of my best friends
He may be perfect
He's not mine
Body Speak, Mouth Don't."I need a favour. You got a minute?"Body Speak, Mouth Don't.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No. No I don't.
My heart feels ripped out of my chest and trampled on too often.
My ears open to screams in the morning.
My eyes close crying every night.
My mind always turns dreams into nightmares.
My lungs contract too soon for me to catch my breath.
My worries far outweigh my years.
My brain feels overworked, overwrought, so tired.
My stomach cramps every night and I curl up in pain.
My knees weaken often but I'm still standing.
My mouth goes dry and I can't speak.
My hands dampen because I have too much to think about.
My bones feel weaker than they ever have before.
But I don't think it's anything to be worried about, really.
"Sure. How can I help you?"
They Told UsThey Told Us:They Told Us2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They told us we weren't artists,
They said that we're just puttin' words on paper...
They told us we wouldn't make it,
Because language isn't unique...
Ta hell with them all I say,
Because I know tha truth they seek ta hide.
We're treated like third-rate artists.
Our hands can't create magical pictures,
We can't create comics ta make people laugh,
Or emotive portraits ta make em cry...
But what they don't see is tha title,
What they don't see is tha description,
They don't even see tha comments or replies!
They look only at themselves,
And at tha talent they seem ta proclaim.
It's like starin' at an old english aristocrat,
Ignorin' us simply because we're farmers.
But what they don't see are the words.
Words used ta give a picture context.
Withou' a title, a picture is just a mix of colours and lines.
Who could understand an image, withou' a title?
If art alone suffices, why not let every piece be nameless?
I'll tell ya the truth, separated from the
Riding BikesGoing off medication is like riding a bike.Riding Bikes2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
The doctor holds tight to my handlebars and lowers my dosage. The training wheels are off, and oh hey, look at me go! It's like flying but not, and I'm doing so well but then there's a horrible accident and I'm somehow upside down at the bottom of the sea with both wheels still spinning.
"Help," I say, and my doctor pats my head, puts a band-aid on my knee, and writes a note on my chart.
I've balanced by myself for months at a time, but I always end up hitting a fucking tree or falling off a cliff or something equally catastrophic because I am a catastrophic person. Except that is an exaggeration. I am an exaggeration.
I like to compare mental illnesses to mundane physical activities. Also you should know that I am sick but trying to get better.
Sometimes I relapse and then write poems about it.
It's not even the kind of sick where people bring you soup in bed and soothe your fevered brow. It's the kind of sick where I'm late to work because
Writers are all crazy, you know.Letters spill down from a canopy andWriters are all crazy, you know.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
down the vines,
scatter across the margins to make
a story so divine.
There's a picture show
behind those eyes,
where a lake leaks stories
into a boat full of mad
but for those who think it's crazy
it really is quite sad.
on a rope swing,
between horror and once upon a time.
She obsesses over meter,
and nothing will quite rhyme.
She stares off into the
d i s t a n c e
trying to make some sense
of every idea that flocks her boat
and never will relent.
Her brain is constantly on