Seasons of KnowledgeSeasons of KnowledgeSeasons of Knowledge4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Like the layering of fresh snow on a grass plain in winter
The binding of each book is smooth and soft
If ye were to run ye hand upon the covering
Than ye would understand the magic that it holds
Fresh autumn leaves resting in crisp piles
Describes the feeling of the pages that take me miles
Into the pages I dive and
Rest in the words of the stories I love
Scents richer than spring rain
Mirror stories of love, happiness and pain
Bathe in the knowledge of others, I do
And pretend that what I read is in fact true
A summer breeze wafts through the Tree of Knowledge
Below it ye shall find me feasting on its fruit
Silver TidesWhen I reached that silver shore, I was broken.Silver Tides4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
My skin, burnt by the sun and bruised.
My hair, tangled with salt and drenched.
My body was tired, and when I reached the shore—
It was my enemy, the sea that brought me there.
Sand hugged my body, attacking all my salt stung wounds.
As I stood up, the sun sent rays of hope instead of fire.
And the waves retreated, only to crash onto me once again.
:: Lonely Consequence ::Forgive and forget...:: Lonely Consequence ::3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Regret. . .
NightmareWinding blowing snow screams in the windNightmare4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Endless clouds of blinding white ice
Piercing gold eyes in the distance
* * *
Black forms slowly treking towards you
Red flowing liquid staining the white ground
Growls rumbling your eardrums
* * *
Everything so cold, so deadly
The only warm thing is your thumbing heart beat
Pounding like a mad drum
* * *
No sound can be formed from your lips
No movement can be made from your body
No help can be found from any direction
* * *
You are frozen, stuck, like a helpless animal
In the cycle of predator and prey
Only waiting for your untimely death
* * *
But, like a vision, the second before everything perishes
You take a gasping breathe, and are reeled back into reality
Wishing, just wishing, to never sleep with torment again.
Sticks and Stones...Words are an everyday toolSticks and Stones...4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Transformed into weapons
Sticks and stones may break my bones
and words will definitely hurt me
Words are like the wind
Harmless and flowing
Or violent and uprooting
Which ever the ear picks up
Words are the facade that can hide peoples true intentions
Words are the invisible weapons we use to fight everyday
Words are the medicine we use to fix broken hearts and souls
Word are the beholders of infinite meanings and memories
Words... Words are just words, nothing more than an idea
Yet deadlier than any poison
They can save someone's life without ever touching them
Being sweeter than any sugar
Paper Mache.If I could make a man from paper.Paper Mache.2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I would make him broken.
So he could see I'd been the one
to take the time to fix him.
He would have dark hair, like night.
Dark eyes to match, in the center a light.
If I could make a man from paper.
His lips would form a hard straight line.
That soften to smile when pressed against mine.
Skin that reminds me of white sandy beaches.
Strong coarse hands, for me he reaches.
If I could make a man from paper.
He would have a low raspy voice,
and in my ear he would whisper a choice.
To love me forever and never have me hurt.
I say sheet of paper lets get to work.
DystopiaWhat once was perfect now is not;Dystopia3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Built by dreams but destroyed by thought.
The people stop and turn to fight
Against what is wrong, but once was right.
Explosions commence and the ground, it shakes;
Waking the pit full of poisonous snakes
Towers rising to high above
Fall to rubble with one great shove.
With Death at the doorstep all reason has fled
Leaving the old ideals to lie there, dead.
When words turn to ashWhat happens when all that comes out over my lips is ash?When words turn to ash3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
When a night-black fog of ash fills my mouth,
overflowing and overwhelming, pressing my lips open
only letting out a dry inhumane sound.
What happens when the words I write burst into flames?
When letter after letter burns and disappears,
leaving no trace of existence behind
except a small hint of shadowy ash.
What happens when my poetry disappears?
When I hopelessly try to grasp vanishing ash,
even though it escapes between my fingers,
as black bland sand, never to be caught.
Warmth of the embers glowWarm at night is all we feel,Warmth of the embers glow4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Nestled soundly in the fires glow.
We cannot always see the stars,
Nore can we sometimes feel the love in our hearts.
But in the embers glow as the fire slows,
The love we have in our heart starts to show.
Burried deep inside we can feel it swell,
The oceans of love binding us closer together.
Hidden beneath the revealing stars in the embers glow,
Hold on to the things you hold special,
Hope that warm feeling will grow,
Among the warmth of the embers glow
A heart is a box.A heart is a box.A heart is a box.2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
From within it who knows what will come?
Is it dead or is it alive
How will we know?
Is it a present and is it an apple
for Pandora, how will she know?
The foolish little girl didn’t have to open it.
God told her not to take a bite.
She needed to get over it,
But the curiosity got her,
and the cat was dead;
the hydrocyanic acid filling it’s lungs.
A heart is a box.
And in the box are snakes and snares
Thistles and nettles of every variety
It is a music box
A melody of siren calls
A lullaby of a swan’s song
DifferentI see them on the streetsDifferent9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am just like them
I feel the same as they do
I am the same
But I chose this
To be different
I saw their cruelty
And I could not bear it
I don't think they can either
The Magic of BooksI pity those who don't read.The Magic of Books1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
To them, books are just paper
Marked with ink all over.
To them, books seem so boring
Silent and still with nothing to offer.
And they ask me,
Why do you read?
Why do you laugh?
Why do you cry?
What do you see in those pages?
I reply, "Because it's enjoyable"
And they laugh and wave me away.
But if they could see what I see
And feel what I feel,
Would they be laughing then?
Would they laugh?
When the evil overlord falls
struck down by the heroes
Head tumbling down the stairs?
Or would they cheer?
Would they laugh?
When the old mentor passes
A smile upon his face
Having passed his knowledge to disciples?
Art is...What is art?Art is...2 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Art is the tears of its creator
A stream of relentless sorrows
Of dark and tortured colors
Poured upon open canvas
Art is the smile of its maker
Mouth curved in a happy grin
Ideas and creativity
Spilling forth in all shades
Art is the love of its composer
The key to life’s beauty
Passion and love
Bleeding onto paper
Art is the anger of its constructor
Through scorn and pain
Bitterness and contempt
Terrifying beauty is formed
Art is the soul of the artist
Laughter and tears
Frowns and smiles
Pulled from the deepest part of our hearts
Art is whatever we want it to be
To contain them...Words are but emotion, finally contained.To contain them...4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
~My six word story
Grave RosesDon't rest roses on my grave,Grave Roses2 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
trail of bouquet that you pave.
Vibrant death, ignorantly conveyed,
leading too, my buried cave.
What flowers, my love, have you brought today?
Soil in dead eyes, all to grainy.
Memory waning, soon to forget.
A bold quartet, pedals of debt.
Ah, a rose?
Don't mask your woe, we both know,
I am gone, grown so cold.
Fading marrow, in my bones.
Corpse alone, parted soul.
May I love, be so bold?
let your heart bleed,
forever sorrow, forever grieve.
Let me be.
And on my grave, let grow weeds.
Don't rest roses on my grave.
I Comfort MyselfWith a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.I Comfort Myself8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
The struggles that plague me, though none may know,
Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles
Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine
I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.
Though the silence continues to press upon me,
Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.
Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,
If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012