Castles in the airCastles in the air3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Even the fools daydream...
That something could go on well,
oh, for a single time
they build castles in the air,
daring to hope, dream
to find a temporary haven of peace
to escape to during the winter
and dream of spring...
Missing Pieces.I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs.Missing Pieces.3 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
But at the same time, I feel so incomplete.
I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long
Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong?
Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all?
That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else?
Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall.
But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed.
A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be?
There is no master plan that includes the likes of me.
Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease.
A hundred thousand years from now
I’ll still be
Marsch der Deutschen aus Polen engl. translationMarsch der Deutschen aus Polen engl. translation4 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
March of the Germans in Poland
by Heinrich Gutberlet
Whatever threatens you,
a sacred flame
gives you the power of the sun.
Never letting you enslave,
never letting you disenfranchise.
God gives the righteous
Whatever will be,
be loyal to your homeland,
Fight, bleed, sacrifice,
for your ultimate legacy.
Win or die,
be forever german!
Down the DrainThey don’t make reruns like they used toDown the Drain3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I realize after the fourth bottle
After the first microwave dinner
Since I woke up on the couch
Five and a half hours ago
I’ve been counting in episodes
Of The Antiques Roadshow
Thirty-four minute runtimes
That run slower every second
An old woman has a piano
Worth four thousand dollars and
I doze off on my elbows
Before the elevator music starts
And wake up in the same room
That smells like something died here
Crusty eyes focus on a VCR
Glowing twelve o’clock
Noon or midnight? I ask out loud
Like some sort of weirdo
Now the old woman’s gone, thank God
I wish this television got pay-per-view
I wonder if that piano was really
Worth four thousand dollars
I don’t know how I found the courage
To press that button for the third time today
The other line clicking to voice mail
The microwave beeping four times
Every minute on the minute
They don’t make couches like they used to
Broken recliners and shabby upho
NecromancyI wanted to see what makes a human heartNecromancy3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so I took a scimitar and ripped apart your decrepit
and inside that primordial ribcage I found nothing but
And you merely gave a cruel parody of a
dug your bloodstained claws into your
and tore out that infestation you called a
"Analyze that well, my little necromancer," you
fangs dripping with the acid I once begged to
"Perhaps you'll be as wise as me once you find the
I could only watch as you sunk back down into
clutching that contaminated Philosopher's Stone
knowing you had replaced my heart with the poison known as
'l o v e.'
I'm Just MeWhy?I'm Just Me5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Why do I have to be who you want me to be?
Why do I have to be strong?
What if I can't be?
What if I'm not?
I'm not strong
I'm not beautiful
I'm not skinny
I'm not this perfect little girl
I'm just me
Whoever I am
This person who made these walls
Walls to hide herself from other people
The only problem is
The walls I made
Hid me from myself
I don't know who I am
I can't be who you want me to be though
I am NOT perfect
Neither are you
But no matter how hard I try
No matter what I do
I'm never good enough
Why am I not good enough?
CanadaXReader- Photography PartnersCanadaXReader- Photography PartnersCanadaXReader- Photography Partners4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"______! Matthew is here!" Your mother calls from the living room.
"I'll be out in a moment!" You shout back. You throw on a red tank top and white shorts. You like your photography partner... a lot. And since he is Canadian, this outfit will definitely impress him.
A bit nervous, you sigh pulling your (h/c) hair into a sport ponytail.(A/N: Ignore that if your hair is too short for a ponytail.) Mr. (teacher's l/n), the digital photography teacher, had assigned you class to "Capture nature while telling a story". You really don't understand what he meant, but your friend Matthew did. He said he knew the perfect place to go. Alfred, Matthew's brother, would be, of course, tagging along.
Throwing your camera around your neck, you rushed out of your room and toward the living room. Your hair bouncing with each movement. In the living room, Matthew is ducking under his blond hair, his face as red as your tank top.
"Hey.. Uh.. What's wrong Mattie?"
thiefMy name is Thief. But no one really called me that. It was just a name I crafted for myself.thief6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
It was appropriate. I have stolen without anyone noticing me a lot of things from a lot of people who had a lot of reasons why they lost a lot of smiles.
Just last year, I stole a car. Your repair-addicted car that broke down every week, and used up your money (for repairs) every month, and took up all your savings (from all your hard work) every year. Still, you loved the car. And its sudden absence broke your heart. You frowned, sulked, and mourned.
I hope you can recall your wide smile as you sat down to the dinner you treated your family to: the dinner you bought from the savings of a car repair-free week.
A few months ago, I stole a son. A son who would always come home (very late) with bruises from a fight, or report cards marked "failed" (in blood red ink), or girls (disrespected and devirginized) paid to make love. Still, his parents loved him. And his sudden abse
Why?I have that feeling,Why?5 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
were I'm in a lost in a school corridor,
all the doors are locked,
with people laughing and being happy inside,
I come to the end of the corridor,
which is covered with stained glass,
but i can't see the colours through my tears,
I try so hard to see through,
to call out to the ones outside,
but I can't see them and them me,
my sadness turns to anger,
and instead of cries of desperation,
comes screams of suffering,
I hit the window,
smash it with my bare hands,
anything that breaks the barrier,
between the world I never had,
my anger consumes my mind and energy,
leaving my bones dry and brittle,
I crumble to the floor,
light of many colours,
dance upon my skin,
the deafening cracks,
do not awaken me from my despair,
rain falls on my battered skin,
but where should be water,
was only pain and blood,
with only one word on my lips,
the barrier fell,
just like in the life I lived,
the world I dreamt of was only a shell,
leaving only darkness behind,
as big as the hole
PhotographyI love to take photographsPhotography7 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In them I freeze time
Time that someday I will wish would return
Moments I will wish to get back
They remind you of better times in your life
Reminds you of how things were
How much people change right before your eyes
Yet you never notice until you go back and see
The photographs that take you by surprise
You think of how little your kids where
How happy the person looks in those pictures
What I have never come to understand is why
People take pictures of loved ones in a coffin
Those are memories that I will never want to remember
I believe a person should be photographed
The way they were in life
Not the way they look when they die
Help MeMy bonesHelp Me5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Abuse, neglect, pain.
Harder to breathe with every blow.
I'd run and run and run
if there were somewhere left to go.
Adventures of a Glaceon, ch 76Chapter Seventy-Six: The Last ChanceAdventures of a Glaceon, ch 763 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Lucius bit the Garchomp's wing pressing hard against his throat, pinning him up against the wall about a metre off the ground. It was hard to bite through the rubbery scales, however, and Garchomp just ignored him drawing blood. As its thousands of teeth came closer and closer to bite off his head, Lucius really wished he could breathe fire into the dragon's face, but that was impossible as he couldn't breathe at all. No amount of struggling against the wing moved it.
A black flurry of feathers hit Garchomp in the face, surprising it so it stopped pressing on Lucius' throat for a moment. He fell down, drew a big breath, and exhaled flames all over Garchomp's lower body, but the dragon was barely harmed by his fire. Lucius growled: that stupid Selene was actually doing more damage than him, scratching around its head while it tried to catch her. Not wanting to be outdone by that airhead, Lucius dug his teeth, infused with dark energy, into Garchomp's
Are We Human Or Are We Dancer?I'm like a puppetAre We Human Or Are We Dancer?5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tied to strings
I can't seem to
I'd walk and talk
But only when
You gave me
Permission to do so.
You told me to fight
And I would kill.
You told me to lose
And I would bleed.
I want to be set free
Set free from these
That hang from me.
And then you came
With your open arms
And your open mind.
You cut me down
In order to love me,
Let me in your heart,
writers blockeach word i writewriters block5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it seems wrong
like the lines do not meet the paper
they do not belong
the pencil breaks
my earaser is dead
from scratching the paper
a hole rips
into the paper
the anger gets worse
the fire burns brighter
another crumpled paper
lies on the floor
a new clean paper
to destroy once more
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
Heartache Every MomentI had never seen eyes so naive. That soft mouth, of pastel color, that velvety skin ... everything in her looks fragile but perfect.Heartache Every Moment2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A star on top of another, never a calculable amount, a passion for you, about a passion for you.
Breathing with your gazes, your eyes, your heart. It was stupid to be so focused on one person, and I knew it.
A strange sensation at see you, you're looking in the wrong direction. And as if guided by a divine hand, for the sweet push of destiny, turn your gaze to me.
Everyone knows the beauty of your eyes, and you know they are the most beautiful ... and still you dedicate me a glimpse ... then why when you look at me you do it coldly ? With eyes so cold that freezes the soul.
You do that to hurt me, but I must say that you reflect a little spark of pity for this undignified love for you. Even so, your look is more beautiful than the person who looks at you, do not look at me like that ... because you will not be less beautiful.
And if you have a second of y
Alone Again: Family [Rivaille x Reader] Part 2 The sun was just about to set when you finished your loaf of bread. Rivaille stood up and dusted himself off, and gestured for you to follow him. You also stood up and wiped away the bread crumbs on your dress.You followed him to an entrance of a cellar. He opened up the doors and went inside. You followed him in, and your mouth went wide open. The cellar was immaculate. The little window it had was polished so well that it looked transparent. The stone floor was clean and it seemed that no dirt had ever touched anything in the room. In a corner stood a small bedside table and a sleeping mat. It was folded neatly, and a small drawer held perfectly folded clothing. You walked around the small room, gawking at everything.Alone Again: Family [Rivaille x Reader] Part 22 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
"Are you done yet?" You suddenly remembered that Rivaille was the one who cleaned this place. He was leaned on a wall, where a small table held a burning candle.
"It's so clean..." you said quietly, scared that if you spoke
Love me, Love me notIt's funnyLove me, Love me not5 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
That a fourty-year-old and a fourteen-year old
Can say the exact same thing:
of sucking in my stomach
when I'm around my boyfriend
Of not being able to be myself,"
I love acceptance
I am acceptance
But if acceptance
Doesn't love me back,
The point of trying
Accuse me of being crazy
If you must
If it makes you feel powerful
But accusing only brings our hearts
Farther and farther apart
I can't be what I am not;
What you expect of me
I am just
And now there's only one more thing
End it now
If you must
I don't have to love you
That I love myself.
Hear me howl.Tell me again, Father,Hear me howl.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I’m the perfect daughter-
when all I want to be
is the crescent moons
resting like strong soldiers
in the grooves of my palms.
I am but
quaking with frostbite,
numbed with rage.
A wolf's jaw:
locked, teeth tearing
into the chilled flesh
of your neck.
PhotographyTo steal a soul or a moment in timePhotography8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Its a wonderful invention and art
Snap a photo here, click a frame there
Just a moment in time
Trapped forever in its frame
And put upon your wall
Such as you would shoot an animal
And mount its head
But isnt that all photography is?
Isnt that all hunting is?
An art, trapping something forever
Capturing something that will be stared at
For the rest of eternity
Is this what art has become?