Heavenly FireHeavenly Fire3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
The sky, consumed by
a spectral conflagration;
embers glow briefly
before the night's rising tide
completely quenches the fire.
End RemembranceEnd Remembrance3 years ago in Historical More Like This
Remembrance Day originates at the end of World War I. The idea is to honor those who died in the line of duty, defending their country from enemies. For all its pompous words and fancy granite memorials littered with colorful flower bouquets, Remembrance Day and others like it have failed miserably in achieving this goal.
I've often been criticized as having no respect, and that can be an impediment when discussing certain topics. However, I am often in luck – hypocrisy deserves no respect. What changed as a result of the enormous sacrifice of those who died in WW1? As the first bombs of WW2 fell just two decades later, millions once again obediently lined up under various pieces of colored cloths to slaughter and be slaughtered. It became obvious that absolutely nothing had changed, and that the millions of WW1 had died in vain.
Most would agree that all that lip service paid to the sacrifice between the two world wars wasn't good enough. To truly honor their sacrifice would be
If The World Is a Book I Want to Read Every PageIf The World Is a Book I Want to Read Every Page3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
If The World is a Book, I Want to Read Every Page.
Let me memorize each dotted "i"
of moonlights freckled face
Trace the silver ripples
of a seashores wrinkled page
Count the auburn stanzas 'tween
the depths of trembling trees
Ride upon the vessel
of a sun-kissed simile.
Open sky-stripped windows
to the sigh of cursive clouds
Shuffle through the metaphors
Awaking through the ground
Slant the sails of poetry
toward continents of sea
Deep into the jungles where
the verses lace the trees.
Catch the winds of free verse
Or the open waves of rhyme
Sift through ocean ballads
where the sunset greets the tide.
Study drops of scripture
as it clicks against the street
Sleep between the pages
of departed poetry.
Frozen WhirlpoolFrozen Whirlpool3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Somewhere...in the ocean
There is a whirlpool...that is...frozen
I no longer had anything keeping me bound to this world
You were my love, you were my chain, and my heart was a link
And I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing your face anymore
So my knees gave, as I let my thoughts break, and I forced myself to sink
Somewhere...in the darkness
There is a soul...which became faithless
All those memories down the drain
I feel the bitterness of hope
While my tears rain
I cannot cope
Somewhere...in the depths
There is a spark...cradled by emptiness
My pain will always remain in time
As I never wanted to let you go
But I still got left behind
Only to dwell in remorse
Somewhere...along the path
Came a point...where I couldn't stand
I knew there would be no moving on
And there would be no going back
Because I can't stand the thought
Of potentially losing any of that
Somewhere...in my mind
There is a time...when I loved my
Alone and UnseenAlone and Unseen3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The chill in the breeze,
The frost on the ground,
Crisp on a moonlit night.
A young boy's figure
Glides through the streets,
His breath a clouded fog.
Eyes like crystals,
Hair like snow,
He walks with staff in hand.
Alone in the world,
Unseen by all,
He strides like a ghost through the town.
Young children seen
Through a window pane,
Bask in the glow of the hearth.
Unseen goes the boy
Who stares unnoticed and lost
At the joy before his eyes.
A tentative move,
A soft hand to the glass,
Which freezes beneath his touch.
He turns away,
To the dark of the night
And raises his head to the sky.
A tear flows unseen,
Silent and soft,
To be dashed on the frozen earth.
Calling winds forth,
Around him to swirl,
His feet lift off from the ground.
Invisible and alone,
He flies higher until
He melds with the sky and the stars.
"I want to be seen
And I want to be heard."
Only one hears this desperate boy's cry.
The Man in the Moon
Stares down on the scene,
At the lost and forgotten child.
My sunshineMy sunshine4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As the days grow cold
And the nights dark
It's your sunshine that
Keeps me at ease
Even on the gloomiest of days
when the clouds reign the skies
And a bitter breeze brushes by
So paint me in your sunshine
for me to follow hand in hand
Remember me by your side
So I can keep my ray of sunshine
In Grandpa's EyesIn Grandpa's Eyes2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
From the time that she could walk and talk
she could never quite get it right.
Her mommy would call her spiteful names
and then scream "Get out of my sight!"
Nothing she did was ever enough
no matter how hard she would try.
The pictures that she would draw for mom
never got more than the usual sigh.
But when she would go to grandpa's house
greyish skies would turn sunny blue.
In grandpa's eyes she could do no wrong;
his love for her was kind and true.
Her grandma had been ill for some time
making it hard for grandpa to cope.
But when she came with those dark brown eyes
her visits would fill them with hope.
By the time that she was twelve years old
her dear grandma had passed away.
Her mother had found a new lover;
they left her and went their own way.
Alone and afraid and feeling low;
suddenly, a knock at the door!
Grandpa was there to rescue his girl...
and he promised to be there for her evermore!
True StoryI used to walk among the treesTrue Story4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And sing a happy song
Never caring who heard me
In fact I wish they'd sing along
My next-door neighbors
they were friends
but more like brothers to me
And we all thought that the end
Of summer could not be seen
Oh we played in the forest
Built a fort in the pines
And hung on the branches
Between their house and mine
And there was an old tree
That I used to think to be
The mother of the forest
though she was dead and had no leaves
And we were like family
Sharing house and home and
Coming up with games to play
And forest haunts to roam
And I used to look up
To the trees far above
And always dreamed of flying
With the birds I always loved
and one day I found a nest
very near the swings
and we watched the babies hatch
but they died without wings
and that tree was cut down
and the swings are all gone now
and i'm never around
and the old rabbit they had
for so very many years
died one night without me there
to shed any of my tears
and the old mother of the wood
Hemingway Would Hate ThisThe trouble with the Boy was that he didn't have the heart of Shakespeare, the voice of Poe, nor the soul of Wordsworth, nor the knowledge of Rembrandt in his darkest days. He didn't have a trace of Michaelangelo's spirit nor the angst of Carvaggio and this on its own was enough to dissuade him from understanding that technique was far better than solidarity and possession far more ageless than youth.Hemingway Would Hate This3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He didn't have any of this knowledge because his father hadn't had the courage to tell him that he needed all the qualities of these great men, to win over the heart of a woman who had the dreams of Austen, the ideas of Da Vinci and the scent of a high priestess of Venetian origin.
The Girl was all those things and more, and her value, her estimate in the market of souls was higher than most. She was an angel amongst Gods, and He should never have let her go into the world thinking that it was Keats hearted. Because like all women who live their lives story shaped, she was soon broken by
Sudden SadnessSudden Sadness3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
She looked away from the large window in her room and sighed as another unprovoked and intense sadness racked over his small frame. She shivered, and clenched her eyes tightly shut in an attempt to fight the tears that would soon flow and not stop no matter what she did.
She had no idea why she cried like this. She knew there were things in her life that were sad, but, honestly, she didn't know why she was so overcome.
There were those in this world with lives far worst then her own, why should she cry over something as simple as a man, and a death that had been forgotten by everyone else.
Five months, and she was still crying.
The maddening sadness soon passed and she began to inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth. It helped, sometimes, but sometimes it made it worse.
"Hey," Her brother said as he poked his head into the room without a single knock, not that it mattered, she couldn't lock her door anyways, "Dinner is done . . . hey, you okay?" He as
A Rebirth of Sky and SeaA Rebirth of Sky and Sea5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Your memory carried me through countless nights
Nothing more than a glorified incubus
Your serpent words wrapping there way around my heart
We both need to move on, fellow lost soul,
The coming dawn waits for no one.
I'm only your princess when no one else is looking
A pet trained to come when your lonely.
I can't wait forever for you to make up your mind
The fading night leaves everyone behind.
I would have been your everything if I only had a chance
But we are young and your heart wanders while I look on
My wounds heal, your poison drains away leaving a clear mind
With my face to the rising sun, I am born.
It is your turn to wake up Lord of dreams and wishes
My hands once reached out to you, craving the feel of your skin
Bitter reality waits to greet you as I walk away with few glances back
The moon sets and a young girl dies.
Hours spent missing what never was is a heavy burden
My shoulders feel free once again and I pray you find the same peace
The fissures and cracks in a young he
Your Love ..Your Love ..4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
.. حتى في اشد حالات احتياجي لك
.. سأظل اقاوم حبك
.. تلك الشجره .. قوية الجذور
.. التي زرعتها في قلبي بحبك الذي .. كان .. نابضا
.. كنت ارويها كل يومٍ .. من اعذب مياه الحب
.. ولكنني الان .. أسق
FragileI know that you're broken,Fragile3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
And all your pieces are scattered,
I know that you're bruised,
And your pale skin is battered.
I can see the scars,
That you're trying to hide,
And I can see the hurt,
Burried beneath your pride.
You're barely holding together,
Your tattered, fraying threads,
The harder you try to keep it in,
The more the hole spreads.
Stop trying to battle alone,
When I'm here with sword in hand,
I can help you pick up the pieces,
There'll be nothing we can't withstand.
Don't give up the fight,
My friend who is so fragile,
Take my hand and let me hold you,
Let me love you for a while.
You think that it's not worth it,
And just want to give in,
So you run the blade down your arm,
Breaking your heavenly skin.
I wish that I could show you,
How much you mean to me,
But you just push me away,
And wallow in your debris.
Why can't you see what I see?
I think that you're amazing,
I love your scars, and your wounds,
And your eyes that are always blazing.
I am giving you my all,
Life of a MusicianLife of a Musician3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It starts as a quiet humming in the darkness- a disruption in the air, tense with expectation- only felt by those who start it.
A sudden, luminescent thought- inspiration is a fickle beast, and none can argue with who it chooses to show itself to.
But there, there it starts. It all begins behind a closed door, in another realm without others to interrupt. He throws off his half-hearted doubts and restraining weights- a muted strum of an old acoustic guitar flees from his exploring fingertips.
Hesitantly, he tunes the guitar and strums three notes, building music where there was once nothing. Dim flashes of light fill the dark corners of his empty hideaway; a sense of color in a gray bedroom.
He stops, but his mind running all the faster. The infection has already started- the music won't leave his mind, his fingers strum invisible chords if he ever dares to set the guitar down.
He builds notes, one on top of the other, without even a hint of a seam. Bent over acoustic guitar on an unma
Spirit BlazeSpirit Blaze3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Iridescent flickers of color
Float carelessly throughout the air
Resurfacing the wanders of the unknown
While exposing the passions within
The flames of the heathen blaze
Burst forth in sentimental dance
Exploding the tendencies of lacking thus
The infliction no longer dispersed
How I long of that fire
That flare of confession
Which leads and forgives and disappears
While leaving behind charred souls
My heart is made of coal
No longer of the nightly failings
But rather of the sky light sparks
That disappears behind rusted remarks
The spirits of the flourish
Tend to all my worthless cares
They bring up to the feelings of thus
The life circle...
Of the spirit blaze
EggsYou didn't eatEggs3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all my sins
that last night
you were in the city.
You said the taste
what you remembered -
no herbs or rocket
or strong black
fell from my bones -
a roast of haunch,
delicate as almonds.
You thought it would be
the spoiled yellow
and just enough
to keep you
MemoryWandering through a forest of memories, each tree a moment; feelings etched into the bark encasing the lifeblood, the flesh of those memories. The air is still, but leaves lose their grip and flutter to the ground as a moment of memory is forgotten, as a notion descends to join the damp depths of the lost. Only occasional rays of light penetrate the ceiling of leaves, filtering to the ground to highlight one buried memory, one hidden feeling, one lost painting of a moment.Memory4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sleeping Isn't for the WeakInsomnia's kissSleeping Isn't for the Weak3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Is a breath taking beauty.
She lingers between
And loves to
Invite me in.
It's a shame I have
My dreams already.
That I've found
The battering eyes
On my skin
Much more sensuous
Today I told
The highest girl in the world
That days have grown
Much too long
And years have shriveled
To specks of dust.
She told me my words
Were true in one sense.
She said it was a sign
That I was dying.
I like to think
She was wrong-
that it meant
I'm still breathing
And all too far alive.
The Bend in the RoadThe Bend in the Road2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sam was a recovering alcoholic. He grew up in a strict Christian household, with loving parents who not only spent quality time with him, but gave him their time in great quantity as well. Nevertheless, when Sam became a teenager he longed for the things that he didn't have. His friends at school would rave on about their sexual exploits and the alcohol and drug-fueled parties they attended. His parents kept him away from such things, and instead attempted to inculcate into his young heart a love for God and for godly principles.
When he turned sixteen he began drinking, leading a secret, double life. At first, he limited himself to an occasional six-pack of beer, but before long he moved on to hard liquor, and was smoking marijuana as well. He loved the way he felt when he was high or stoned. It made him feel free, uninhibited, happy. But the feeling of euphoria would, of course, eventually wear off and Sam would find himself crav
Good EveningGood Evening3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Good evening to the cliff
The one that leers above
Challenging the leap
With rubbles that tumble down
With broken hearts that finally shatter
Good evening to the sky
The one that widens 'round
Surrounding with their spattered skies
With black blooded stains
With white flaring scorns of disdain
Good evening to the sea
The one that trembles below
Waving final sayings, tides of goodbyes
With swirls of treachery
With educing calls of end
Good evening to the world
The one that doesn't care if she drowns
Ignoring her sadness, her tears, her pain
With closed ears to cries
With hearts made of stone
Impossibilities?Have you ever tried breathingImpossibilities?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
under a ten ton weight?
Have you ever tried screaming
when you're as mute as the moon?
Have you ever tried crying
when tears are all used and gone?
Have you ever tried running
when your feet are nailed to the floor?
But have you ever
in all your life