My blood houses the melody,
My skin the harmony,
My being the complete symphony
I am the creator and the created,
The art and the artist
Sounds creating a vast canvas in my mind
It’s painterly waves submit imprints
Increasing tenfold in sharp echoes
While floating and drifting through tandem thoughts
Stringed voices dance through my striatum
Overwhelming and audible, all I can do is
Compositions of no other kind inhabit and entwine
Makeshift life folds into misty transparencies
I’m never by myself
When I have myself with me
Finding a friend I need,
Who understands how I feel
Expresses what my words cannot,
Makes my unseen feelings real
Fills my soul with such richness,
Reaches in the very depth of me
Suddenly bringing me out of this melancholy,
Or giving it peacefully back to me
Walking through city streets,
This feels like home
Through these alleys I wander and roam
Painting on concrete walls,
Expressing the bitter and sweet
I know w
Life is but a string of breathsLife is but a string of breathsLife is but a string of breaths2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Woven over time.
Some are short and broken,
Some dazzling and fine.
Each moment is unique and new,
Though some should be forgotten.
And every strand of memory
Should be treasured, never trodden.
RazorMidnight's tawdry pulseRazor1 month ago in Free Verse More Like This
is feeble under my fingertips,
and her long black dress
feels like August
slipping through my fingers.
I like how her bones complain
that I misuse them,
tender to my touch,
and how her jaw arches back
and the moon arcs like a razor
across the room.
We flaunt the stars,
the stones under our skin
stretching the bed frame
till we crack.
And I fill you up,
your arms a battle
raging in the waning lies
The Musings of a Writer The pen hovered over a simple sheet of paper, the only marks on it being red and blue lines meant to keep foreign markings from shifting off their destined course. Yet the lines felt as if they had no purpose on this night because there were no dark markings to guide towards a path that would lead to so many possibilities. The truth, however, was more cruel than what an innocent bystander would have thought if they were passing by the coverless windows and, by chance, looked into the darkened room with only a single candle burning, giving little light for the person hidden in shadow that appeared to be leaning over a simple desk covered by pages of unused paper, a single pen with ink like the night sky in their hand. The very page set before the shadowed figure was the very same page that was void of any sign of use for several months. This simple yet terrible fact was the silver pendulum swinging over the writer’s head like thThe Musings of a Writer2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Everything You AreI've never been this close to heavenEverything You Are2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I've never known a love like this
I've never touched this side of happiness
In all the life I've lived
You’re that one in a million
The wish upon a star
Everything I've ever wanted
Is everything you are
SignsThe pens, neglected on the floor,Signs2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The empty art book, hidden away,
The camera, stashed in the corner...
The broken watch on the table,
The stacks of unfinished projects,
The soft, squishy teddy bear
and the playlists, forever on repeat,
All saying the things she dare not tell.
JamesLoving you,James2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
was like loving the snow.
You burnt ice cold,
and you always took my breath away,
but left me sprawling
on the ground,
when I realized
the dream had melted.
The Fall of EpithilinonIThe Fall of Epithilinon2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Let no man speak of wars whence
No answer graced our call,
Let man remember gods thence
Gods, watchful of our fall;
Speak in silenced sighs, men,
Dead men hither sleep,
No flag here flails, amen, amen!
Who can ever beweep
Our brethren in the deep.
Frightened colours breached the sky,
The church bells played a dirge;
The bustling hills and vales so nigh
In crimson rage did merge,
Archers with crescents held high
Keen arrows fell like sin,
The portcullis in sorrow, shy
Interred our fathers in
The last grave of our kin.
Wailed the night in thunder blare;
The mangonels did come,
Lonely trumpets singed the air
When Earth ravished our home;
The eastern tower, wasting wear
For a trebuchet did bow,
Fallen stone and ballista bare
Broke its stony vow,
As the beadle mopped his brow.
Mildly armoured, men at arms
Stormed the brazen fray,
Howled the castle’s cold alarms:
Ladder men up the brae!
Blazed in ire the fields and farms:
The winter’s yield was spent;
Sticks and StonesThey say words can never hurt you.Sticks and Stones1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Silence does a better job.
My Muse Has Left MeWhen she departs from my grace,My Muse Has Left Me2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My palette dries in her wake,
Devoid of livelihood for now,
With dull words to fill my tray,
For now I paint a portrait,
With no wings of my own,
I am yet to be grown,
For she alone floats me high,
She alone carries the brush;
Strokes colours unto the night,
Filling the empty artist with,
Her sweet kiss of silvery light.
So I lay now in wait,
Under rainbows left gray,
To taste the honey of her life,
Dripping like nectar from rose-soft lips,
Pressed tight as a clamp unto mine,
Breathing into me a laced love letter,
Sighed: To the artist; From: The divine.
DanceWeaving, twisting, bobbing as a seaDance1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
Unhesitating to meet the fiercest gaze
Lifting hands, conjoined for fractional seconds
Breaking and joining, flowing and flying
We are but golden strands of finest silk
Floating in the gentle breeze
Waving goodbye to the iridescent light
From which we came
Each turn a reckless choice
Each revolution a heady decision
Graceful artists, pondering destiny
Light streaming through with every stroke
So you can dance
In this elegant ballroom of brief eternity
Dance before you fade to the dark
Bright as a blazing star
In all its triumphant glory
Because to truly capture that essence of life
You must dance with it
And so we dance
Because we were made to
And we know little else
A Curious FallIA Curious Fall2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wisps of smoke spiral
around his lungs, catching his
breath, diving under
Why does something so soft have teeth
Your broken smile
Grinning up at me like I owe you something
My arms are like candlewax
My head a fuse
Shorter by the hour
Never burn out, my love
From his mouth
You know because of the
clouds behind his pupils, cursing you with thunder
Why does something so far seem so beautiful
Your keen fingers
On my skin
Hunting like pack dogs
Yesterday, you asked me
Why I draw crop circles in mist
There is no time left
His pen is rolling around
Willing to be picked up
And expended, discarded,
Like all else he had
Why does something so quiet seem so alive.
MonsterThat bony smile across his faceMonster10 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
a sight to take your breath away
as time erupts and slips its pace
a noose of stars that went astray
slips down the sky to find its place.
He said he roamed too far afield
that all his pleas were spurned and shunned
the hands of god refused to yield
They only left him dazed and stunned
with fleshy wounds that never healed.
So now he haunts the fields and fens
and calls the narrow ways his home.
The secrets that no man can ken,
the buzzards bleat a wretched drone
and turn their backs on drowning men.
Astrali'm the seraphicAstral2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a hallowed body
like i am hellbent on
HeresyThe beauty of heresy liesHeresy7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the words
withering on the vine
and all those sounds
I hear you
breathing under water.
I wait as
the chysallis of dawn
wears out its welcome,
skips the beating heart offered up
and tries to make a home
between your pages.
Our Words.Epilogues before prologues––Our Words.1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
These stories only make sense in reverse.
Tear-tainted-table tops, where tattered pages fly.
An abandoned desk overlooks the open window, what a breathtaking view.
A homely typewriter nests the ultimate-– in it’s inanimate soul.
Shards of sunlight seep through the pale meshed curtains, flying playfully with the inked pages.
We write and die tonight.
We write and die tonight.
We’re all just stories, aren’t we?
Some are long, others short, some crazy and others mundane.
The thing is, we’re also the authors.
Life’s just inspiration, isn’t it?
––For the final masterpiece; act three.
We write and die tonight.
We write and die tonight.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
old habitsshadow child,old habits4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are never forming
for i never give you
the chance to fully
solely compromised of
poisoned what-ifs and
standards too high for
even the most
experienced climbers will
be sent hurtling down.
(oh how the mighty fall!)
your kind never
stays for long.
whose fault could it be?
the selfish -
who picks blindly.
watch how she tires
of her selection
within the hour.
its the selfless -
who gives in with
little fight to being
'mouse' in this game.
don't you receive
the worst marks?
both are at fault
when they consent
to play in
such a deadly game.
(intoxicated and blind,
creating a world
of their own)
so dear shadow child,
blink once if you pray
this will end fast
twice if you wish
the crash didn't
s t i n g
Haikus from the pastHaikus from the past2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Lane of the park
Under the falling leaves
My mother’s laughs
Allée du parc
Sous les feuilles tombantes
Les rires de ma mère
公園の路 (kouen no michi)
散る落葉の下 (chiru ochiba no shita)
母さんの笑い (kaasan no warai)
Blades of grass, fresh dew –
On a waterfall of tears
Her life has ended
Brins d’herbe, rosée fraîche –
Sur une cascade de larmes
Sa vie s’est terminée
草葉、新鮮露― (kusaba, shinsen tsuyu)
泪の滝の上 (namida no taki no ue)
彼女の生命は終わった (kanojo no seimei wa owatta)
Navy breeze – a seagull!
Lassie filling her bucket
Before tide’s return
Brise marine – Une mouette !
La fillette remplit son seau
Avant le retour de l
bibliophilebibliophile6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
i’ve dog-eared far too many pages in my life story--
there are just some chapters that I
don’t need to reread.
The Poetry of LoveBlue eyes haunt my memory,The Poetry of Love1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
pressing their seal upon my heart and soul –
your softness has me aching for one more breathless, single kiss.
Beautiful crashes of bodies remind me of how I desperately
crave you – love you – now, for always.
I seek the comfort of your arms – I need you, as the poet needs his pen.
Your touch rouses all that is beautiful and divine.
I collect precious memories, one by one –
of the sunlight reflected in the gorgeousness of your eyes.
Your baby-blues call out as a luscious siren, reminding me
that I am alive – please, call me home.
Keep hold upon my love for you – my beautiful, fiery bolt of sunshine.
My heartbeat leaps to the tender beckoning of your sweet song.
Passion a-bounds; as my spirit longs for yours,
and our united hearts ignite the night – our flames of desire –
carry on, my dearest – carry on: protect my heart, my soul, know my love.
Memories of you engulf me – as I pray for the ecsta
Laments of TwilightThose seasons famished in myriad dreams;Laments of Twilight2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Long of quests in realms of Fae ...
For yet a feast of forest wine I would adorn,
Or beyond pleasures dressed in valleys rich
Gardens of sweet Avalon digress —
Where thy gaze painted embers in my soul
Unto her lore, I pursue and caress
To Autumn’s decree a world hath been slain!
Then Nature’s magick whispered above:
‘And forever the stars shall wander untamed,
like a fable of thieves lost in the wind’
Laments of twilight sweep with promise ~
And over the enchanted I hath prevail’d!
Where I am but a dream, within her dream
— Arthur Crow © 2013
PoppiesHe dreams of herPoppies8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and bleeds out -
the secret life of poppies
and visions that
have lost their way;
of cardinals thrashing
in the branches
and the pricking of thumbs
like last rites.
He has forgotten himself
a thousand times -
the soft glint
of bone and skin
bristling behind the thick
where she gathers
the lines of his palms
and leans back into
waiting for a key
to find its fate
in the wrong doorway.