The Sailor's WifeThe Sailor's Wife9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There's nothing more trusting nor patient
than a sailor's wife, whose husband
between rough waters
and her, on unshakable land.
She doesn't know that he sits on
the bow, watching the golden sunset
slowly burn the sky, wishing
she could see it too.
She only hopes he does.
And he can't help but wonder
if she's sitting where the water
meets the earth, hoping she'll
be with him soon, on land,
where he's safe from harm.
The sailor who smells of
salt and fish, watches the
wisps of smoke from his pipe
spiral towards the sky,
more full of dancing stars
than anywhere on land.
She'll wonder why
he prefers the smell
of the sea over flowers
and fresh grass.
Does the spring
when you're surrounded
by endless waves?
And he knows nature's
is not sung by birds
perched high in trees,
but is sung by the wales.
There's nothing more trusting nor patient
than a sailor's wife.
There's nothing more
strong or everlasting
the truth - introductionDeath is an impossibly intriguing thing. To witness it before your own very eyes is an experience not easily put into words in a sense, it is awe-inspiring. As you watch the life fade from the eyes of someone so vivacious, there is this curious wonder that seizes the hearts of every witness. The physical evidence is simplistic: a body loses all function. But what of the person contained within that shell? Do they become a specter, bent on finding a new form to inhabit? Or perhaps the afterlife is but a phantasm: a figment of imagination first produced by someone who lived so long ago time is not identifiable.the truth - introduction6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
The fear accompanying, however, is far paramount to the wonder. The loss of life is something so terrifying to the whole, suffocating and petrifying. The vast majority feed upon the hope that there is such a place as heaven, or that reincarnation is not myth but with no proof, many others are skeptical. And this is far more horrifying than the possibility of death: th
crack.the leaves have fallencrack.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and i stand
a tree, stripped
of its life, and
for the clouds to
shed their small
to nourish my
the snow has settled
and i fall
38. Caged.Pawsteps fell against the grass like the pitter-patter of rain: ever-present in the midst of a storm but rarely recognized. The air had at last begun to take on the characteristics of spring, and it left the faint taste of fresh cut grass in the fae's mouth. She progressed softly through the woods, her presence realized but not acknowleged. She passed a small rabbit, cowering in the hollow of a dead tree stump, a bear assailing a young doe, a squirrel devouring an acorn. None of this she noted, none of it she cared. Her ambition was to arrive at the forest's edge, and before the sun set at that.38. Caged.6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Smoke. The sour smell seemed to catch on the breeze suddenly, and the female lupine scrunched her nose in revulsion. It was the kind of scent that sparked interest in the forest; concern, apprehension. The wolf felt nothing but disgust. Man was at it again, and it was far beyond her to understand or so much as wonder the reason behind it. She could see stars in bright oranges hues dotting the l
Tanka Series 141.Tanka Series 143 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
within this world
of poverty and murder
a brown bat
one by one…
from miles offshore
of my homeland
what it means
to be Black in America…
the same autumn moon
at the end of April
can my heart
to one woman?
the spiral dive
of a red-tailed hawk
from deep in the gut
with no one around,
at an unknown lump
trying to salvage
of another school
a field mouse is born
in the neighbor's yard
steals a glimpse
after Trayvon's death
a little faster
on words of love
of a warbler
explaining Jim Crow
to my f
Poem prayers for Japan.The following haiku are by a number of different deviants. They are posted below as a way of sending our prayers and/or thoughts of love and support, as well as showing our solidarity for the people of Japan, in the wake of the 8.9 earthquake and ensuing tsunami and nuclear crisis.Poem prayers for Japan.5 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Please, please send your haiku to me. Leave them as a comment, note me with them, post them as a deviation and link me. I will add them here. The goal? The creation of a beautiful collaborative work of art that shows our LOVE, SUPPORT and SOLIDARITY. Even if you cannot assist the people of Japan monetarily, DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF WORDS AND POSITIVE ENERGY.
BUT REMEMBER WE MUST PAIR OUR PRAYERS AND THOUGHTS WITH ACTION. FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO ARE FINANCIALLY ABLE, PLEASE DONATE WHATEVER YOU CAN. EVEN IF YOU ARE BROKE, TRY TO SPARE A DOLLAR OR TWO. EVEN THE LARGEST BUCKET CAN EVENTUALLY BE FILLED BY EVEN THE TINIEST DROPS. IF YOU ABSOLUTELY CANNOT SPARE ANYTHING, ACT BY SPREADING THE WORD: MAKE
Hypervigilance and PTSDOne of the diagnostic criteria for PTSD is hypervigilance. Hypervigilance is watchfulness or checking one's surroundings that is over and above what is normal or reasonable. Hypervigilance takes many forms. It is what makes some of us always choose an aisle seat or one where our back is to a wall. It's what makes some of us carry defensive weapons such as guns, knives, mace or pepper spray, a police whistle or a mobile phone set to 999. It makes some of us cross the street to avoid suspicious people. Some of us have alarm systems, multiple locks, window locks, high fences, guard dogs, etc. Another form of hypervigilance is studying people very carefully in an attempt to look deeply into their soul to determine exactly what they are made of. Hypervigilance is included in the cluster of symptoms referred to as "increased arousal". This cluster also includes difficulty sleeping, irritability or outbursts of anger, difficulty concentrating, and exaggerated startle response.Hypervigilance and PTSD5 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Lament of an AtheistI cut candles straight down their waxy centerLament of an Atheist4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
just by looking into the flame. Slick peels of
honeycomb melt into my palm and blister skin.
Then the world ricochets forward.
I plummet back into my body and there's
a thick distortion in audio. A constant pulse at
the back of my eyes, tuned to the rhythm of your
heartbeat. I look for traces of you, but,
God, you're lost.
Leaves fall as paper lanterns from wooden fingers.
Spiraling upwards on the breath of cosmos, back
to Heaven, lit like the sun on a marvelous azure
backdrop. I needed your wisdom, but all is gone.
Christ, you're dead.
Atheists are not meant to love. Realists are not
meant for passion. Idealists are the dreamers
of their own demise; only they can make it
A man once told me that the astute make terrible
lovers, but I'll fight that to the bitter end. Maybe
the irrational are so hopeful in their wafts of
hallucination they cannot come to mindful conclusions
of their forsaken love.
There's a poet under my skin, itching
In Which Middle School is HellI can still remember with perfect clarity the day in eighth grade when a boy walked up to me at my locker and said, “Hey cutie.” I was sweaty, having just come from gym class, and I was only at my locker to buy some time before I had to go to math class where the teacher hated me and the numbers didn’t make any sense. But there was a boy standing next to me and he called me cute and I had no idea what to say. But I didn’t have to say anything, because the girl he was with just laughed, a cut off cackle into the oversized purse she was fishing through. I turned back to my locker, not saying a word because I was out of my depth and trying to ignore the world.In Which Middle School is Hell3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Either ignorant to the fact that I was still within earshot or apathetic about the whole situation, the girl pressed the boy for answers. “Why would you say that?”
“Fat chicks need love too.” The words were mocking, insincere, and they burned through my body like a poison. I did
even god needs an editor.these subtle strings that someeven god needs an editor.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lonely god wove into souls and
hearts, bones and blood--this is
his swerving handwriting, curling
across pages of skin and color.
i can see him now, bent over a long desk
sweat collecting in beads along his brow,
glittering in the ethereal candlelight, and he is
writing in DNA, telling new stories:
genetic dramas written in lively ink,
spilling across the dirt stage:
some of us are tragedies,
some of us are comedies,
and some of us are masterpieces;
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.A Bloody, Stupid Miracle1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
The SirenThere was a dead body on Sandie's back porch, and it was trying to get in.The Siren4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
She wrung the coffee out of the front of her shirt, made damn sure that all of her doors and windows were locked, and called Mike.
"Yeah? Sandie? That you?"
"You don't know anything about this, do you?"
"Mike, there's a zombie on my back porch. It's leaving smears on the glass door. Is it yours?"
"I... Could you repeat that?"
"Zombie, Mike. It's a dead body in a puddle of nasty, and it's leaving more nasty on my door. God, I can even smell it. This is one thorough job, man."
She edged away from the door, keeping an eye on the intruder beyond the glass. It was bloated and purple with decay, green and black fungus speckling its face. There was fluid coming out of its mouth and dripping from its nose. It had no eyes, and all indication of sex or age had rotted away.
"Robotic, maybe? One of its legs is about to fall off. You didn't sic one of your Cyber Derby friends
eugenics in bulkBy the time she was twelve they had already decided she would marry a man who could run a five minute mile and speak seven languages. They chose her a husband the same way they had chosen her eyes and her legs and the pale freckles that interrupted her nose - the same way their parents had designed their children and arranged their marriages, strategic.eugenics in bulk1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Her father called her petite reine. He owned an antique chess board carved from ebony wood and maple. Some days she'd sneak into the library, pry open the old chequered box and pick out one of the queens, and she'd turn it round and round, searching for imperfections. It was a plain, ugly thing, huge and fat in her tiny grasp. She had wondered if he thought of her this way.
She wondered the same now.
Her hands were not her own. A businessman in a white coat had grown them slender and strong, built her carbon fiber bones and nails like arrowheads. Her mother reminded her of this when the
here's to losing youhey, wow,here's to losing you2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
great! you do!
are you happy?
no, but here, have my
see me turn myself
upside down when we run
into each other.
while you are shaking hands
and kissing babies
still smiling for smiling's sake,
I've seen the real you
crying into wine. I've felt you
stain my shirt black-streaked
with hidden away things
creased things, folded
and in the process, you
soaked my soul in
spooning your vulnerability
was better than
in one blind night,
better than the electric jolts
you sent burning up my arms
when you grabbed my hand
one day, out of the clear blue,
better than that first kiss
when both our tensions
dissolved into each other
like butter in a hot pan.
nothing has quite matched the night
when I saw you naked, saw you
emotionally undress for the first time:
Human, BeingHuman, Being6 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
There was a time, not long ago, I would have given anything to be something else.
Ever since I was little I wanted to be an animal. It didn't really matter what animal, as long as it was an animal. Animals were beautiful effortlessly, it seemed to me, and oh so deserving of love, admiration, respect, and affection. I was not. I was less than perfect, unlovable as a little girl, and so I sought to be an animal. It had to be better than being a human, especially a chubby little girl who nobody understood.
As I grew, I centered my life around this belief, that it would be better to be other. At first it was unicorns and horses, then it was the fiery power of dragons, and finally the mysterious grace of wolves. I thought that if I could somehow learn the ways of wolves, perhaps I might find a way to become one of them someday. Perhaps I could find four feet and race into the wilderness
Who Are You?Who Are You?6 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
We are constantly deciding who we are in our lives. We are always evolving. Who I am today may not be who I am five years from now, next year, or even tomorrow. We always have a choice of who we are in everything that happens. Who are you in regards to your body, to your soul, to your family, your friends, the drug user down the street, the priest at your church, to your pet dog, to the price of gasoline, the new iPod your Uncle Bob got you, to world strife and hunger, and every other aspect of this life?
You always have a choice in every moment of your existence, a choice of who you choose to be in regards to every Now moment. Remember that the past is in the past, the future is yet to come, so the only moment that matters is right now. So who are you right now-? And whom do you choose to be? Do you like where you are at and what's going on? Do you like who you ar
Maybe thenIf I pamper myself everydayMaybe then5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Maybe then you might look at me
If I change the way I talk
Maybe then you'll talk to me
If I change my style of clothes
Maybe then you'll wrap your arms around me
If I change my hair
Maybe then your fingers will tangle in it
If I eat less
Maybe then will your lips touch mine
If I disobey the law and do bad things with you
Maybe then will you think I'm fearless
If I constantly give myself to you
Maybe then you'll consider me an opition
If I flirt with other guys
Maybe then will you see you want me
If I sleep with another guy
Maybe then I will realize I was wrong
Maybe then I will realize you were wrong
Maybe then I will realize my suffering was for nothing
If I hold a gun to my head
Maybe then I'll go back to myself
goodbyeThe day was heartbreakingly simple.goodbye6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I awoke to the blinding glare of late summer sunlight. A heavy mist hung just above the earth, encompassing humidity, making the air disgustingly thick. Groggily I rose, grudgingly beginning the daily rituals I had always assumed. I wove through the tightly-packed forest; I waded across a stream so depraved of water it was practically stagnant. Never did one cross this boundary, lest they intended to wander closer to the humans than said creatures would desire and today I intended just that. Mostly despised by the inhabitants of the small Connecticut city, we lingered on the fringe of the Hanging Hills, venturing out into the open only on the rarest of occasions. I did more often than most, for scavenging was far easier than stalking prey, especially when the odds were against two coyotes trying to bring down a deer.
There were two of us indeed: my daughter, precious Allegra, was never out of sight. She had reached adulthood, but once her fath
deceit.all-consuming hopelessnessdeceit.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a pang in your heart
feeling for another without
being far apart
i watch you fade away
slipping through my fingers
a wraith bent on destruction
a sorrow that just lingers
with each moment passing
the void only expands
is it so much to ask of you
to be a better man
expectations far from met
a lie spun on my tongue
blood from your wrists you let
a moment in eternity
seems to be not enough
if you asked for forever
could i give it to you, love?
Battle I've not fought beforeLying there across the floor,Battle I've not fought before6 years ago in Other More Like This
Spread eagle- arms stretched wide,
Face aghast, just can't believe,
The one I trusted lied.
The path I tread is filled with blood,
And all I see is black,
Whispering voices in my head,
I see the things I lack.
'Tis is a battle I've not fought before,
Not in all my life,
Walking down the blood-stained floor,
Past the weary strife.
Ghosts rattle chains as I walk past,
Calling out my name,
Deathly voices sing to me,
And I am left with shame.