Ghostsin the pivotGhosts1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
of a single minute
i shrugged off a years worth of
and lonely ghosts
the shadows beneath my eyes remind me of you.i got bored in class last friday,the shadows beneath my eyes remind me of you.4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
so i wrote a poem upon my hand,
and when my teacher walked by he read it.
"that's deep," he said.
"i know," i told him,
Middle-EarthSwathed in mist and fires' smoke,Middle-Earth4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
drums thunder as the last of daylight fades.
Songs of the Ancients drown the whispers
of their women's woolen skirt hems
while the dance builds,
and a moon eclipsed in blood rises
on this summer solstice.
A melodic cauldron is stirred,
with dulcimer strings and fiddler's bow--
the bravado and quickness of their feet
sway bare upon long wooden planks.
Black-winged spirits spin over village roofs,
their calls carrying the hearts and minds
of warriors in the hills,
forging new swords, bathing the blades
in the falls cascading down
toward the rolling emerald valley
where dragons, circling low, anticipate
the feast they know will come tonight.
Starlit eyes stare long at their flight,
yearning, for a journey across the sea
where friends await and darkness is at bay.
And wizards, unaware of night's crawling,
travel swift through ages of magic
to summer nights, when fireworks,
shaped as the shadows of dragons,
are the only sorcery to be seen.
let's lay down and watch the sky fall.i've taken on the habit of latching my watchlet's lay down and watch the sky fall.5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the sixth-to-last notch so that it's too loose for my wrist
and every time i reach up to tame your mound of auburn hair behind your ear
time slips away from me
and we can entangle ourselves in the possibility of forever in its absence.
Different is GoodWhy do people seem to thinkDifferent is Good7 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That its good to fit in?
That being different is evil
That not conforming is a sin
All people that conform
They are sheep, you can't trust them
But one who dares to be themselves
Now there's a hidden gem
Just think of who you'll meet
When you decide to just be you
So many fascinating people
And friends who love you true
Those who have a dream
Or a passion, or an art
They bravely face their fears
And can truly touch your heart
If you just be yourself
And love to live and learn
That is truly beautiful
And you help the world turn
Being different is good
Despite what people say
I'm different and I like it
It's easier that way
A kissHead full of oranges, cotton and light,A kiss1 year ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Stars in the snow when you kissed me that night.
Warm breath on my forehead, your hand on my waist
Golden green eyes that hold me in place,
Hands held through mittens, my head on your shoulder,
Dancing; the twilight slowly grows colder,
Crushed RoseStones like earthy mountain fallsCrushed Rose3 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Avalanche has split the sounds
Of quaintest pleasantries lay wrecked
Like spider webs to bloodhounds
Bellatrix come take my rose
And crush under your rocky fist
Tread down the garden dreaming ere
It drips down off my open wrist
Flushes of the heated rent
Thorns like cobbled peaks once high
On my embrace pushed to cold ground
That what has been made so weak
Justice of the natural kind
Equalize integral scales
Between bouquet upon the cliff
And gravity screaming with its wails
Freedom in the seeping loss
Detachment come like flesh from fire
The warmth your closeness brought to me
Gone in the dashing cloven spire
The Dead Don't CareWhen you were here,The Dead Don't Care5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
A marble headstone
Above your forehead,
And for your grave
underneath a weeping willow.
"I want the tree to weep for me,
Not my loved ones."
You had said once,
As if it mattered
After you were gone.
Yet, not a single twitch
Of your stiff lip
Is given as I
Dress you up
In the dainty lace dress
I knew you always loved,
Paint your nails
That stupid mint green color
You knew I always hated,
And shine that locket
anytime we went out.
Not a cry,
Not a giggle,
Not a sound.
But then I remember:
The dead don't care
BlockageThe worst punishment for a writer is the inability to write. This man knows the feeling well. He feels that urge to create something – but what? A sudden idea and he scrambles for a pen but just as he grabs it, the idea is gone. He sits there, pen poised over paper, trying desperately to remember what it was. It’s there - it’s still there, he just can’t grasp it.Blockage8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
He lets out a frustrated sound, throwing the pen down. Is this it then, he wonders? Has he finally reached the end of his creativity? It’s been some time that he’s managed to write anything. He yearns to create a piece so beautiful that people will be blown away in amazement but as days go by without any ideas, he begins to lose hope. He struggles to believe that he could ever be capable of something worthy of others’ love. He doesn’t believe he’s capable of waking the dreams buried deep inside him that he’s had since childhood.
He feels the creativity slipping away.
Exile - 1Damned,Exile - 18 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
To a crypt,
And whispering wind.
My light footsteps
And the shuffling of my robe
They are but echoes
As the world marches around me.
I can hear my own heart
Slowing and waning
In my blood, crystals.
I will never leave,
By my will.
I shall drift away like
Light through the cracks
i choked on dandelion dust clotted to my wrists.i remember years ago,i choked on dandelion dust clotted to my wrists.5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
back when i was six-years-old,
my mother called a plumber
and cursed in her sunday best
when the line went dead.
i couldn't see past the counter,
so i laid face-first against the floor
and waited for the pipes to unclog
so my parents could recommence
pouring my childhood
down the drain.
PolaroidThe photo began collecting dust:Polaroid5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
A thin film
Fogging the glass pane of
The young girl's glowing skin,
Her deep eyes reflecting the
Excitement of her sixteenth birthday.
However, the snapshot might as well paint
Where she slept breathlessly in the green,
Where a red sweater dripped
Around her arms,
How her tears froze her face
Into a Polaroid of haunted composure ---
That is what everyone here
In this mourn box
Are thinking of, anyway,
Even a year after
"We found her!"
Screamed across the screen.
Moon Lit BanquetWhen pretentious eyes fall heavy from sight.Moon Lit Banquet6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
When hope tumbles down, frail from the conscious carousel.
When all time lost is returned from the grasp of the savage hand.
When tempered tongues swell to spawn the lugubrious root.
When weeds of denial blanket the garden of assurance.
When captivity tremendously awaits the diligent heart.
When words lean heavily on the unstable post between reason and insanity.
When the rebellious freak farm nation is left with barren crops.
When hopeful minds spring from slipping time.
When the solid self melts in careless passing of the depleted day.
When the thunderous clouds break through the silent songs.
When great strength is made feeble by repeated afflictions.
When the soft lit moon glistens on shells of the shallow hearts.
When empty glasses bare no lullaby for the strain soul tender.
When pressures fold to birth notions of the eccentric mind.
You and IYou & I are a poem thatYou and I8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Was never finished, tucked
Beneath in our writer’s Desk
With scratches on half our words.
I’ve heard he died decades
Ago, but I still hold on to hope
That someone will find us here,
That someone will find us here.
Beyond the MistBeyond the MistBeyond the Mist5 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
From "Strange High House in the Mist"
Beyond the mist
That enshrouds these woods
In a remote corner of the land
Concealed from the eyes of common men
A tall dark castle stood
Of some unknown dark stone
Hitherto not found on earth
There are those who tell of strange events
Of parties unlike those we celebrate
And dark mutterings of names,
To things that lived before our births
They cannot tell who dwelt within
'T is known they never went inside
And they insist that whoever had gone in
Certainly must have died
So the castle stands in the mist
An eerie and foreboding sight
Half AliveHalf of me is deadHalf Alive3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Now all i have to do is
Kill the other half
MothWhile drifting through the gauzy hazeMoth5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of minutes lost and withered days,
I met a moth who seemed to be
My anguished mediocrity.
Within this moth I could not spy
An inkling of a butterfly,
No colors that could woo the wind,
But only grayness to rescind.
Thus, to this moth I subtly spoke,
[My voice a convoluted croak]:
"Moth, tell me how it feels to be
myself in mediocrity?
My moth friend offered no reply,
But flicked his wings 'till he did fly-
and when he fled I grimaced 'till
he fluttered quickly o'er the hill.
T'was then I knew us unalike,
Divergence like a cloud and spike-
For if there were a semblance borne,
He'd not have left me so forlorn.
of magic and tea cupsI don't knowof magic and tea cups4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
What love is
Corridors of unspoken cries
And pretty petty lies
Maybe I'll find it
I'm scared and hurt
And can't you see?
These wounds just run too deep.
And inside a tea cup
I will lay
I won't tear down this wall;
It's all that I've got left,
Don't let me get outside or I shall break.
Of magic delight
Maybe one day I'll find it
Just maybe not today.
Of Ink and ImaginationWhat are words upon a page?Of Ink and Imagination4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Are they the children in the sand, constructing castles by day?
In the soft breath of the sea, are they the smiling faces that make the Sun so dim?
In the moonlight, are they the lovers fiercely embracing?
Low moans and soft caresses, are they the beads of sweat that drop from each pulsing body?
What are words upon a page?
Are they the girlish laughter that springs from a young lady's lips,
after she has been kissed?
In the wilderness, are they a small buck, still without his antlers?
Sitting on alters, fed Ambrosia, are they the gods of the Mountain Olympus?
What are words upon a page?
Poetry, only poetry.
Reign of the God-EmperorWith an iron fist he ruledReign of the God-Emperor3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Over lands that reached the seas
Golden plains without an end
With beautiful cities to be seen
Every city growing larger than before
And towers reaching for the sky
Wanting to become God
Before they would die
Towers grew taller
And the heavens closer in reach
It was nearly time for the lesson
He would teach
For he had become a God
And ruled for thousand more years
But to stay alive
Many had to succumb to their fears
For every day, thousands shall give their life
To give power to our Emperor
So that he protects us
From the world of terror
And while we all shall die for him
He's our beacon in the night
So that we all are safe
Until he guides us to the light
Homeless!AmericaxReader Coffee And Burgers Part 1It was that time of year again, Christmas. It was about two weeks till and you had just finished shopping for some gifts at the mall. You were walking home, an abundance of bags with stores' labels on them in your hands, and you tried to pull your sweater closer to your body. It was getting colder and colder by the second, you thought, and it sure did feel like it. It was only 75 degrees out when you left your apartment at noon and now it felt like the temperature had dropped by ten degrees! You sighed as chills started to crawl up your arms.Homeless!AmericaxReader Coffee And Burgers Part 12 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
As you passed the bus stop that you always passed when you walked home, you noticed an unfamiliar face. It was a man, sitting and leaning against the bus sign. He wore what a normal eighteen year old would wear: a green hoodie, a Captain America t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of black converse. He looked as if he hadn't been homeless at all...until you saw a sack, containing what could've possibly been all of his belongings.
His eyes were closed, so h
I want to be famousShe told her muse,I want to be famous4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The fallenThe FallenThe fallen4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
We are the fallen
With broken dreams and broken wings
Trying to stand strong again
We are the lost
Swerved off the high road
Ending at rock bottom
We are the dreamers
For the life we've never got to live
We are the aimless
Because the right direction seems impossible
When our worlds are spiraling down
We are the damaged
With souls stained black
From every time their words like daggers cut deep
My heart has shattered
Far beyond repair
But my heart will never shatter again
Because it cannot be fixed once the pieces are missing
And I'll never get the pieces back
Because we are the hopeless
We are the unloved
We have fallen