AwayI want to fly away,Away1 year ago in Concrete Poetry More Like This
up, in the sky.
down, back to earth.
I want to go.
Away, anywhere, nowhere, somewhere.
Leave, let go, live.
I want to fly away,
somewhere I can stay.
Are You?Do you think you are worth it?Are You?1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
What you don't have in physical ability,
You make up for in friendship.
Very few people do not crack a smile
At your cheerful disposition,
And expression of the childishness we all still have.
He yells at you,
Wanting a better chance for you to survive,
But he'll always protect you, you know?
You may be weak,
But you're a better person than a lot of people out there.
But you're so caring.
But you try so hard to make your best friend proud.
I admire that.
Do you think you are worth it?
DiamondsHidden within every storyDiamonds1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Is a plethora of diamonds
Some are clear
And glint brightly in sunlight
I clutch them to my chest
And polish them
Keep them with me
Sometimes when words of dust
Are brushed away
Therein lies a black diamond
Blotched with rust
And swelling with fissures
They glint just as brightly
And I keep them with me
untitled.shut up.untitled.8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
just because you
hide behind pretty
words & stone smiles doesn't
mean i'm going to do the
i have the soul of a
& when i run
with the wolves,
no longer matters.
all my demons out
the next time you attempt
be ready & waiting.
EmpyreanMomma said to never marry an astronaut,Empyrean3 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
they will always prefer the twinkling starlight
to the light in your eyes.
They'll only end up in ships that float
aimlessly in zero gravity and you will not be there.
Momma said to never marry an astronaut.
You will stand firmly on the earth,
clutching the ground and knowing
they will always prefer the twinkling starlight.
Planets will fracture and stars will collapse
long before he recognizes he can travel
to the light in your eyes.
The NecklaceCliché Hallmark cardsThe Necklace5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Always start the waterworks.
Even at crowded restaurants.
To know.... it's a piece,
Of my Mommy Jean
Shaking, beaming, crying
As that slim white gold clasp
click... for the first time.
A feather's weight
Instantly at home on my collarbone.
Slit-eyes red and swollen
That pendant-spot between my breasts
Scratched and red
From shaking hands,
Grasping for anything to ground me.
Tremblingly closing that slim white gold clasp
click echoing with tears
Heaving my duffel up my steps
And down the hallway,
To my last door on the right
Dropping it and a gasp
Hands immediately undoing
the circular clasp at my neck
Frantically grabbing the chain on my dresser
Breathing slowing as the heavier chain,
But lighter pendant comes to a rest
click and my breathing becomes regular
Sighing as I flop into bed. Home.
I AmI am the shadow, and I am the lightI Am11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am the sunlight, and I am the night
I am the battle, and I am the fighter
I am the water, and I am the fire
I am a raindrop just ready to fall
I am the world, and yet…
No one at all.
I Am The Mighty!I Am The Mighty:I Am The Mighty!8 months ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I remember this tale, from a time of brutality; from whence I would have gladly murdered a soul. For the fragile seek to transcend their pain, but ever are they poisoned by it.
This man I remember had called himself ‘Mighty’ and I watched from the stands as he delivered his speech. “You are the fools!” he cried to the audience, “for even as you mock me, I am whole. Through tragedies I've suffered, through pain I persevered. I am a greater man and your words may never hurt me.”
Fool, is what I thought, for he seemed to take pride in this display. The crowd cheered him on, patting him on the back, but to me he lacked conviction. For I saw through the sham in his boast and I knew that his demons would haunt him again. This time a little earlier than needed.
“Yes my friends, I am a damaged man. I have been broken before and my spirit shattered,” he continued to ramble, as I drew close to him.
GrowthI remember the day I caught him 'gardening'. His cheeks stained cherry with the brisk wind that trotted beside him up and down the smothered garden path. He dropped a seed as his feet brushed past each other. Up and down he walked, a solemn lieutenant. I asked him what he was doing and those wide sky eyes reflected the ice as he told me he was trying to grow flowers for his mother. I looked at the seeds spilt on the snow and told him that they could never grow in these circumstances. I will never forget the clench in my heart when he responded, with a child's tongue; "I know".Growth1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
DesperationI wonder how many days you've spent feeling lost.Desperation7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Thinking that you're going somewhere.
Never actually getting anywhere.
You look at the same four walls over and over again.
You can paint them in different colours,
But you know they're still the same.
And you convince yourself that you're making progress,
Nothing's changed, but you're making progress.
Things are getting worse, but you're making progress.
And then you wake up and realise,
That shit has hit the fan...
Suddenly you're forced to do the things you couldn't,
The kind of things that you were never comfortable with.
And you find out you can do them.
You find out that the only reason you couldn't,
Was because you were afraid to try.
It's hard - trying to take that first step.
It's hard - trying to convince yourself to take that chance.
handle with carethere are 206 bones in thehandle with care8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
human body. it only takes one good
squeeze and your neck can snap as
easily as a twig.
once, when i was at the grocery
store, i came across a crate of
peaches. they were on sale because
every single one was bruised and it
made me think, "we're all just pieces of fruit
left to rot. as soon as we've been dropped on the
floor, no one wants to help us back up."
i've forgotten how to think in poetics.
three months ago i would have
compared people to roses. pretty little petals
that can be crushed with just
one little pinch and thorny stems that
whisper "don't touch me."
i think we're more like
together like suffocating sardines in tiny
wooden boxes decorated with red
paint announcing across the sides
"danger: this side up."
The Reassurance of GreenIt was Ella's idea to hire a gardener for my mother's tulips.The Reassurance of Green1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
"I've been doing fine with them," I had said, a little surprised at the sudden suggestion. My sister had looked pointedly at the small patch of tulips that had previously encompassed the whole side yard. They were already dying, and the bulbs would have to be planted again soon. I had been planning an intense Internet search for that.
"I'd like to see you do better," I had muttered, but agreed nonetheless. I left the actual hiring to my sister, though.
Which led me to this moment, staring at a stranger on my doorstep and hoping rather desperately that there had been a mistake and he was not, in fact, the gardener my sister had hired.
"Can you… wait here, for a moment?" I asked the man. He nodded, clasping his dirt-encrusted gloves in one hand, and tugging at his ponytail with the other. I scurried inside.
Ella was supremely unconcerned.
"Who cares if he's dirty?" she asked, looking torn between amusement and exasperation. "G
GullibleGullible8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Near nightfall, two people were driving home. They were both men of around twenty years of age, and were roommates in an apartment. Discussing random thoughts that came to their minds, they were both content.
“Anyway, I think I’ll go check it out tomorrow.” One of them said, he seemed a bit younger than the other. He had a normal body type and was a little on the short side, his hair was dark brown; same as his eyes. His name was Jonathan.
“I haven’t decided what to do tomorrow, well, besides work of course.” The other responded. He had blue eyes along with dirty blond hair, and was a bit more fit than Jonathan.
“Well maybe you could . . . hmm, let me think” Jonathan began to ponder what his friend could do, something besides sitting in front of the television or computer all day.
“I guess I could-” Ken paused; something outside the car caught his attention. He was lucky he wasn’t the one driving, because he stare
YaOi pt 1'Look at me, turn your eyes towards me,' I thought towards the broad shoulders that stood before me. I watched as he turned the corner, as he walked his gray eyes narrowed to look into the corner of his vision.YaOi pt 12 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Our eyes met for a minute but I looked away immediately to make it seem like I was glancing around my surroundings. I could feel my face flame up as I watched him leave.
"Andrew what's wrong? Your face is all red," I jumped as Mia's voice came up from behind me.
"Nothing " I answered her.
We walked towards the doors outside that would lead to the open field that where we spent our lunches together. I couldn't help but think back to the moment where my eyes and his met, even though it was brief, I could feel my heart beating uncontrollably. I could feel my face flush at the look in his eyes, when he glanced back.
"You know I've noticed that you've been looking at Dante a lot," Mia
AloneI will surrender toAlone1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
I will depend on
I belong to
Only to the
Darkness and the
I am alone.<b>
just kiss me alreadyTap. Tap. Tap. I am nervous. I tap my hand against tight jeans as I sit on my friends couch in anticipation to some big news she had for me. She had called me late last night in tears or so it would seem by the tearing of her voice and sobbing words that dripped through the phone leaking into my ear. My mind soaked up the words, the chaffed sound of my friends' voice. She told me to let myself in and that she'd meet me at 9 o'clock. It was now 10:30. I get up for the umpteenth time and pace about the small living room. I stop at the mantel piece and pick up an only photo. It was one of me and her. From the time when I had invited her on a trip, down to the green hills in Tasmania. My older brother had pulled out in the last second and it was meant to be a family trip. Some convincing and my mother decided to let her come. I smile, in memory to that cold foggy day. My friend Yvette is wearing my old brown jacket and I remember that the fluke photo was taken when I jumped in hugginjust kiss me already4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Definition of a Writerwrit•erDefinition of a Writer10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery
They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish
A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own
They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone around
And make this journey an unforgettable experience
Writers are masters of inspiration
And will set aside whatever may ruin the ecstasy of their writing
Which they will forever embrace
And will fight to claim the title author
In their world of words
Their stories are set free
Some are killed to b
NightmaresNightmares1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
It had to be real. Had to be. Those awful visions and dreams could never have come from my own imagination. Only a mangled and twisted psychopath could create something so terrible. Yet, there I was, awoken in a sheen of terrified sweat. Alone yet surrounded in my own bedroom. What am I saying? There are no such things as monsters hiding under your bed, I'd been taught that since I was a child. Why was I thinking like a toddler, scared of the boogeyman coming and taking me away? I heard it again. That scratching on the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere. Yes, it was real, I had no doubt. No one believed me. I tried to tell my parents, but they just shook their heads like they always did. No help there. These dreams had haunted me for months, filled with scenes of fire, gore, and torture. Sometimes me and sometimes others, unnamed sinners whose screams were heard only by me and their tormentors. When it was me, the pain was real, unimaginable and maddening. But sometimes, watchin