InertiaSometimes, I feel so very sorry for
the letters that I write.
Born onto a blank page and
trapped there all their lives.
No new sites to see, no unfamiliar faces to meet;
standing in a lonely row
just to express my thoughts as words,
and yet, completely unable to express their own.
They lie paralyzed in their birthplace
lacking the ability to grow and learn.
Immovable to change for the rest of their lives.
And sometimes, I wonder to myself,
why I choose to be the same.
DebussyRestless under theDebussy8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
dreams quiver like
a long-lost muse.
Clichedoes your poetry consist ofCliche5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
feelings nestled in ribcages
silent cries inside of a marrow
and the dull thunk of your heart
against my barely beating bones?
or is your poetry nestled in galaxies
shooting across well-kept fingertips
like comets lighting a dull sky
stardust of my hip bone wishes
literature universe coming to an end?
can your poetry play imagination
like a clever twist in a dream
where you kiss my shadows away
and teach me how to caress you
with love that burns passion away?
are you smitten enough to
run away with me
or are you yet to be blanketed
by these heavy arms of mine?
do my words weigh you down?
i havent met one so easily drowned
by the vast sea of my sunkissed letters
but as your velvet lips whispered,
always is there a first.
Messsage in a bottleSometimes people cry out for help,Messsage in a bottle10 months ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
I think we all have witnessed it,
We watch them break,
We watch their tears,
And we see something in their eyes,
The last piece of hope,
The hope that as well could be a message in a bottle.
Who will ever know if someone noticed that tiny little bottle in the ocean,
Or if they did,
Did they pick it up?
I have seen a lot of bottles in my time,
And most of the time I pick them up,
But I notice quite a few times I don´t,
It is like they become invisible,
Even if they scream loudly right in front of you,
I think something is wrong,
Why do we leave the bottle in the ocean?
I clearly can see they need help,
And I see it,
I really do,
How can you pretend not to?
Compendium1.Compendium8 months ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Pair of lovers:
the greyed doves perch,
an old married couple.
a bumblebee lands, graceless;
the flower droops.
The rain-swollen sky
bruised purple, and darkening:
work of angry gods.
a thousand midnight suns;
night becomes day.
yearning for raindrops
a window away.
weaving through fields—
meets the stained glass door—
Night sky, aglow:
yellow gleaming of the
an afternoon respite
by the lemon tree.
Shipwrecked and Lostbroken and blue i crash upon your shore. shipwrecked. searching. lost.Shipwrecked and Lost7 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
that which makes me who i am is scattered along the white sand; my being
no more than messages in bottles, scribbled on discarded paper, hidden among
the seashells and coral fragments.
i am tangled seaweed hair and tailless legs. white and bare. armourless.
with piano fingers reaching out to unknown horizons. eyes closed. wishes
imprisoned behind my locked lips.
unable to rise, i lay still. water lapping at my frame, kissing my feet.
gulls cry. wind whispers. laughter still faintly echoes from summer days.
footsteps are coming near. closer. and closer. a hand softly touches my back.
caressing. caring. a faint smile curls my lips.
you've come to take me home.
baby blue& the sea still speaksbaby blue9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
slipping whispers with indigo lips
swelling waves dip dyed
breathing in; out and in
seaweed limbs milky
as our ways carry me
staring at me softly
& oh my sea dreamer
eyes made of linen’s silk
(but men of bone)
heart rustled with chaos
& all in between
spread to my touch
Human Nature When you are young,Human Nature11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
they will treat you with the softness of spring.
They will guide you through the winter winds and
over snowy hills, admiring the brilliance of your
midday innocence; pulling daisies from the earth
just to place them in your hair. And they will
whisper to each other of how beautiful you are.
When you grow older,
they will treat you with the indifferences of autumn.
They will urge you from the complacency of your own
fleeting fulfillments, and they will watch your
brilliance fade with the swiftness of the sky. You
will shed your fragile childhood with the colors of
the trees, and you will learn to face the winter winds
without their guiding arms. And they will whisper to
each other of how beautiful you are.
When you are grown,
they will treat you with the coldness of winter. They
will leave you bare and naked before the ravenous wolves,
expecting you to fend for your own forgotten brilliance,
asking why you've kept those wilting daisies in your hair.
PeonyAlone, but forPeony8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
the red boots marching
cathedral heart: I
am beating echoes
in this city of the
stepping little girl's
dreams, I visit mama
in the night; but
flowers and wine won't
pay for her light.
oh daughter—"the stars never seem to come out for me."oh daughter8 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
—"oh daughter, the universe- it sleeps in gentle breaths, beautifully.
nothing to save these broken stars as the sun snores between the sea."
DrizzlingThe grey glaze of aDrizzling9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
pre-dawn chorus —
and an overcast aubade.
aphroditeclambering lips tumble over each other likeaphrodite1 year ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
little deer stumbling into the headlights, where
blushing cupid's bows snap shut at the slightest
whisper of a touch; as summer's broken blossom
whistles into moss, suicidal and free-falling at a
twist of the wind, dripping through honeyed-hands and
trickling down wrists. words nuzzle breath, the air
staved of acoustics that choreograph faces closer; watching as
quivering eyes thrust new-born hope, where
restless hearts knock beneath a web of ribs,
screaming silently as bodies are poured into the
stitches of aphrodite's venomo(us) fly-trap.
The Art of Language AcquisitionYou are not good at pretending in degreesThe Art of Language Acquisition6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are unpracticed in slow accumulation
love comes to you from the foam of the river
tremendous and fully formed
you do not learn words like other people
picking them up one by one
like pebbles from the dust:
they are there, small and beautiful
in your palm without any effort
you wonder how many
the others have collected
if you can speak to them
if they will understand
the peculiar connotations
the cadence of poetry
the way the water births
us whole and naked
(your mind is a riverbed
of smooth round stones)
there is no greater sadness
than speaking your heart
in the wrong words
they are as necessary and obscure
as the name of our huge love
unknown and undefined
in other people's rough fingers.
LostLegs heavy having taken one too many steps.Lost9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Origami toys played with one too many times.
Sheets of paper white, blank and emotionless.
These are the order of days, only scars and pain.
SimbelmyneThere is silence here, uponSimbelmyne1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
stale skull tombs
these everminds are stilling...
(And yet their tragedies
shall endure in the pallor of the
flowers in your hands.)
MarrowI caught my reflection by herMarrow10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
silk spun lips; She was
as beautiful as the slender
moon. She doesn't say
hello too often but this
time she lingered quite a bit longer
than usual - so it sounded by the
ticks on the old grandfather
clock down the hall.
What a delicate heart she holds.
How heavy it must be to carry - I
could see the weight in her
rain cloud eyes. She has never looked
so sweet, to me, even with those
hollow bruises underneath. Terse
or not, I found my marrow. And while
I could not keep hold for long; it was
something that had been lost for such
a long time. It is still there, I see -
I have seen. How
hastily I fell for her disastrous nature.
She's so afraid, you can tell, but her
baby cheeks hide these dimples that
hold every ounce of her innocence.
So swollen and youthful, I dare not
touch the dream that is her velvet
skin, for I may break the most
fragile thing to ever be
kissed by the northern lights.
001 i am a whirlwind of00110 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
an aching heart
a regret that could
Waking dead.If Death be sweet saviour and remorseWaking dead.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a psychopomp, midwife to the passing,
Thanatos, Ankou, Yama, Memitim, Hypnos,
save me to rest and to sleep
take me in deep
in soft, make this all in my head
to where my friends and my
family, my father
"sweet death, you are the only god
Who comes as a servant when he is called"
So here I am, a lullaby leaving my lips in
the form of a cry of a whistle
in hopes an answer of
sweet serenity will greet
Into the PlungeBuild me aInto the Plunge10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.
1,001 NightsIn a land of1,001 Nights5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
dreams and dust:
the curve of
a half-hazed sun,
And whisper to meYou hold me in your palmAnd whisper to me9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and murmur about how we're just
shy of the right side of whole
and it makes me want to
crawl into the hollow of your collarbone
and watch the clouds fill with rain;
your eyes can’t
because everyone needs you to be happy
and aren’t you sick of pretending
that everything feels better
with a smile on your face and
that the world isn’t ending anytime soon?
You pick daises and make chains
that rest upon your temple
and you plant me where they grew
so that I can too,
but aren’t you sick of knowing
that everything fades
even when you hold it tightly
between your hands
and press it into your chest
like it’s the safest place in the world?
You whisper the answers to my universe,
but I must still be growing
because I can’t understand a single word
and I hate myself for it
when your smile is just a little more than empty.
Darling if I stopped pretending
I wouldn’t want to live.
InsanityFrom the suffering I comeInsanity10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bleeding through the eyes,
The hope is now gone
Drowned in your cries.
A sudden scream, the agonys so loud,
You drop to your knees,
Pray to God to help you out,
But once again, He has let you down.
Not able to move,
Not able to speak,
Life is so cruel,
And always was, it seems.
Youve lost your will,
Youre getting weak,
Your body has collapsed
And so have your dreams.
Your mind gives up,
But you still want to fight,
Strength seeps out through your wrists
So you just fall down.
Then comes the peace,
So desired and calm.
Your head is now empty
And so is your heart.
Theres no more pain,
No memories, nor hopes.
Sweet and bright,
Settling down in your mind.
Your new I
Lion HeartIt is building up deep within her fragile body like a heaving monsoon forming over the dry, cracked, heavy heat of an African savannah; an unforgiving and all-consuming storm desperately willing to drown out its less than fleeting welcome. Flickering with ceaseless coils of skin-searing energy like a grey-faced fugitive's adrenaline stricken heartbeat, it is not a bringer of life, but a threat to itand even the most reckless are hardwired to take flight in the face of such a colossal and uncompromising foe.Lion Heart2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Beyond these white-washed walls, the world would have her believe that she is brave, a lioness, an exception confronted by the inevitable; but outrunning the storm is no longer an option, and she has never felt more betrayed. Slowly, it is emanating from her heart and through the pulmonary arterythere, free to roll and crash, it engulfs her lungs in a terrible thunder that rattles the brittle bones holding her together. The ominous feeling that has settled into