A Beautiful ImaginationA Beautiful ImaginationA Beautiful Imagination2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She grabs for things not there
People wonder what she could be reaching
I smile to myself and think -
"She has a beautiful imagination".
She doesn't care if anyone stares
Her focus is on what cannot be seen
Except by her innocent heart
And her beautiful imagination...
Everyone, when born, has one
But sometimes it gets lost along the way
Of growing up, becoming responsible
Dismissing such slights of folly...
A beautiful imagination is a precious thing
So taken for granted -
Those who still clasp it tightly
Are looked down upon by the "sane".
Children don't have it wrong, you see,
Being "humored" by the adults -
Their veil of innocence is what we long to once more have
And we are envious of their beautiful imaginations...
When did we learn to say goodbye
To a gift we were given when young?
To become someone who wishes...
To once more be a child again?
wanderlust and found hearts in my dreams we're holding handswanderlust and found hearts2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with our fingers ribbon-laced
we're jumping off these martian cliffs
wrapped in sunlight's embrace
we're diving in poseidon's sea
where life source abundantly flows
we're sharing secrets with the stars
gazes transfixed on heaven's glow
i find no better company
to travel with eternally
than you who makes me see
how much beauty lies in me
we soar across the nebulae
and i hold my heart in hand
how i wish i could save some stardust
as if sparkling specks of sand
to land with you on planet venus
and be struck by eros' arrows
would complete my life's desires
to still be rubbing nose to nose
even after all our teeth expire
Welcome to the Dream WorldHe sits alone in the nighttime air,Welcome to the Dream World3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
On the rooftops, letting his imagination
wonder what all could be out there.
He watches the stars
glitter like eyes peering down at him.
His concentration side-tracked by sounds of cars.
But he always drifts back,
While staring into the black,
Welcome to the dream world!
She lays by herself in the dark,
In the bed, sheets over her head
wishing for that little life spark.
Crawl out of bed, over to the window,
Climb out, she watches the sky.
There's just no where for her to go.
But she always falls back asleep,
Into that place she wants to keep,
Welcome to the dream world!
Wake up, they're in reality once more,
Just another long day ahead,
It hits them in the core.
As the sun travels across the sky,
They're waiting for the night,
so they can kiss this world goodbye.
To live in his fantasy's,
Welcome to the dream world!
Finally left alone in the night.
Hold back the tears and tummy butterf
If You Hear Screams At Night..There's danger in the silence,If You Hear Screams At Night..3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Shadows so close to existence
Emanate subtle violence
With evident consistence
They dance in my peripheral sight
They try to make me mad
They're haunting all my dreams at night
Insomnia's not all bad
I'm only safe during the day
'Til the sun sets in the West
Tomorrow is so far away
But there's no way I can rest
10 Stories in 100 Words - One1.10 Stories in 100 Words - One7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
He doesn't remember how it happened, nor exactly when, but what Jacob Walters could recall was saying, I could die happy now, and with that, he did. Now he plays piano in my bar. A little-less zombie and not-really spirit, banging on ivory with a cigarette in his mouth. Ash collects on the white keys and gets pushed into the minute ridges of his fingers, no longer marks to his identity but just trenches of smoldered music. He plays the same terribly bland, depressing thing over and over again, but it's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
He always found it unusual, but Dudley Kern figured it was math that was saving his life. He saw it in the movies all the time, now it was him who had his weight (all 196 pounds) pressed staggered against a door (no thicker than an inch and a half), reinforced by brass fixtures (three hinges with six eighth-inch screws each and a deadbolt lock), keeping out something terrible that was beating away at the other side with all its
When A Poet DiesWhen a poet diesWhen A Poet Dies1 year ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
All his work transforms
The ink turns to coal
Faster than fossils at best
The paper goes back to it's mother tree
And all his work continues to manifest
How can this be?
When a poet dies
No one really knows
Until a hundred years later
When all his children are grown
And people start to realize this
And start to say ‘you shall be missed’
But it’s far too late
Oh, it’s far too late
Leaping from the page
Of the poet that they revered as their god
They keep praying,
And praying for him to return
But he won’t be coming home
Why won’t he come home?
When a poet dies
All his work transforms
The ink turns to coal
Faster than fossils at best
The paper goes back to it’s mama tree
And all his work continues to manifest
How can this be?
How can this be...?
The White Parade: II of VIChapter II: PerfectThe White Parade: II of VI8 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
“Why is she here?”
He’s sitting on the bench across from the elevator, waiting for me like he has been for the last week. There’s a square patch of cotton gauze taped to the inside of his left elbow, the telltale sign of the recently needled. His clothes are still the same (or perhaps, more believably, a different set) of cotton hospital pajamas in plain, standard white. He’s at the height of fashion in his clothes, at the very peak of classic American hospital chic that will never in a million years die out. If it ever does, then God help the masses without any other way of telling the difference between the medically experienced and the medically ignorant.
It’s the first time since our first meeting that The Patient has said anything to me, and the sound of his voice comes as a shock. The look of genuine interest etched into the permanent intensity of his face only serves to shock me further.
“Well? Are you gonna te
The White Parade: III of VIChapter III: The White ParadeThe White Parade: III of VI8 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
A day passes. I find myself in his room again, taking more pictures. I don’t even think about it anymore; right after the last class is over, I catch the subway to the hospital, take the elevator to the fifth floor and knock twice on door 515. He never seems to mind. He never asks why I keep coming. He just lets me in when I knock and closes the door behind us—locking it to keep the unwanted medicals out. I bring the scarf this time, hidden inside a black gift bag I found in my closet the night before. When I give it to him, he seems rather…shocked. Not because it’s a scarf, but because it’s a gift for him.
He whispers a shy “thanks”, and then we get down to brass tacks.
“Did you hear about the girl in 522?”
It was only yesterday; how could I forget?
“I was in Claire’s room when the doctors ran past.” Click. “They said it was a…a ‘cod
Shorelines, HemlinesI started off treading on braided manila hemp-Shorelines, Hemlines2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I am now down to knotted wool
The lines you keep drawing begin closing in
and you keep at it til we blur
like a trail of once carved footprints
washed out by the ever coming tide
My heart comes and goes just as so,
each thump hanging on your every word;
I feel my everything dangling on a string of surgical thread
which you've been holding so very loosely between
your pockmarked index and delicate thumb
Please, skip out on the cruelty and let me fall;
Name That BabyI'm gonna lay it on the tableName That Baby2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Do the tell
Get the spelling right
Got called "depressed"
Took it up to "manic"
Bipolar in the head
And they said --
"Make it longer,
On taking pills,
To flatten my hills
Knock out the frills,
I got double-damned.
'Cause a this shit --
Father dies in a pool
Mother dies too,
In love with a fool
Mother let days pass,
No food or water
How did she last?
I closed her eyes,
They felt alive,
Like little butterflies.
Hector also dies,
Left alone by
The very unwise,
Young white cats
Die like that.
Spat out with
All the cancer-dead
She too went back.
And nothing stopped.
I saw them all
Saw them all day,
Blood and flood
Not from me
Not my feed
Just these -- "things."
Small cold voices
In my ear
None could hear.
Little people sat
And they stood
And they spun,
In colorful fun
They had their run,
Build-A-LifeBFFs (Best Friend Foxes)Build-A-Life2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Make Your Wish...
When your world falls apart
The rain was falling in sheets, but it wasn't enough to drive the young woman inside. Especially not on this day. The dirt was still upturned. She could still hear his voice as he tried to make her smile. As he laid in the hospital bed. She punched the dirt as the tears started to mingle with the rain. How could he have kept it so light? Why? He was such an idiot! Why!
The girl looked up at the tombstone and stared at the lettering etched into the dark granite. Kenneth Lucas Atler. Born April 30th, 1995. Died July 31st, 2012. Beloved son and treasured brother.
"Hmph," she shook her head as she wondered why she wasn't mentioned. She had been a part of Kenny's life since they were only six. He was her oldest friend and her first love. Why did this have to happen? She just did
life lesson #1presented for your edification,life lesson #12 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
life lesson #1:
found among in the last of her notes,
[scribbled so hard that the fragility of the lead
snapped, again and again, under her harsh misery
and the plastic of the synthetic pencil melted and dripped down her wrist]
the very last of her observations
shortly before the master of her own destiny
abandoned the arts completely
to pursue a career in self-loathing
in loneliness, and in worthlessness,
[in short, a career in failure
as a creator,
the notebook itself was already coming apart in her hands
by the time she wrote the words:
pages smeared, ripped, falling out,
a cover, hanging crookedly on its spiral bound skeleton
and all of the words faded,
virtually to illegibility.
for your edification,
the net result of countless angry waves
slamming against dark sands
and hissing into oblivion:
"NEVER ASK FOR WHAT YOU WANT"
and screamed herself apart.
New JerseyI have seen many wondrous things in my lifetime things which have graced me, things which have inspired me, things which have awed me, and things which have moved me in ways that I cannot explain but none have made a print on my mind so much as that of the story of the glass bottle girl.New Jersey3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She collected hundreds of glass bottles of every possible combination in shape and size, snatching them from dumpsters, from the junkyards, and even from the cramped back alleys that snaked through the choked city which housed them those alleys that seemed to move, existing one day and then becoming absolutely untraceable the next.
She was a girl of great mystery and grace, with lavish coffee-colored hair that fell in waves upon her shoulders and sparkling eyes that held a faint, nostalgic hint of the sea.
When she walked, you could hear the muffled clink of glass as the bottles hidden beneath her old black overcoat clung to each other as they followed her home, desperate for some
Nearly NothingThere's a fire inside my ribcageNearly Nothing4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Where my heart used to be
And I'm almost certain that the flame
Is bound to swallow me
But this blaze does not burn
It only makes me melt
Exposing my inner core
And all I've ever felt
I make a final wish
As my oxygen runs low
Snuffing out my warmth
So, fin'lly, I let go.
An Astronaut's DreamI'll float among the stars tonightAn Astronaut's Dream4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll greet the sun, be so polite
I'll spin around on Saturn's rings
And I'll learn how the Martian sings
I'd spend light-years up in space
Just so I can escape this place
The End of Innocence The End of InnocenceThe End of Innocence2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Dreams lie shattered at our feet
Preconceived notions at best
A whimsical desire we once knew
Has died upon our lips...
Look upon these scars
That tell of harder times gone by
The naivete of our hopes
Etched upon our souls...
The pain reflected in our eyes
Is only the shadow of the hurt
Lodged deeply within our hearts
Waiting upon time to heal the wounds...
It is the end as we know it
The end of our innocence
For we will never be the same
When the morning comes....
I need ...I need one simple work of art,I need ...2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
in which all the glitter is gone.
I need a second heart -
you've already filled the first one.
I need three wishes from a genie;
food, love, health - they matter the most.
I need four people to see me -
my creators, you and a ghost.
I need five letters - a name.
which represents you in a way.
I need six more lives - I'm insane.
For you in each one I will pray.
I need seven more words to tell.
For you I would travel through Hell.
I need eight bright Suns in the storm:
instead of me they'll keep you warm.
I need nine teddy bears for you to hold.
So you'd feel loved if it ever gets cold.
The love I have's mine - not ours.
But now I will tell you the truth -
if this day had ten more hours
I would spend them all loving you.
A Dawn of A New DayA Dawn of A New DayA Dawn of A New Day5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The rays of the sun stretching
Casting themselves upon the frozen ground
Bringing warmth to those that have survived winter's frost...
Ripe as a peach.
Juices flowing from lips tasting sunshine
Licking the promise of tomorrow from its ambrosia
Feeling the crispness in the air...
The black night giving away to the pink of sunrise
Stretching its fingers across the awakening sky
Birds chirping their melody into the morning mist
While the moon kisses the stars goodbye....
What a glorious decadence
That stretches the imagination
That welcomes heads that rise from deep slumber
Embracing all that is fresh, reborn, replenished
Renewed and nurtured...
A dawn of a new day....
Sisterly love The night had already fallen and the lights in the house were lit. In the living room most of the candles were burning, a small fire was crackling in the stove to scare the exceptional summer cold away from the bones. The landlord - an elderly thin man with white beard - sat at a chess board and studied the black and white figures with suspicion. One could have thought that would open his eyes for the next best move. Across from him a young woman waited patiently for the reaction of the man. They didn't look alike, yet these two were father and daughter. Only the eyes suggested a kinship between them. Stunningly bright eyes usually showing a serious expression.Sisterly love2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Apart from these two another person was in the room, also a young woman, likewise sister and daughter. The two women didn't look similar at all, either, but they were all one family. Annabelle, who had taken place in the wing chair apparently reading, was the beauty itself. Golden curly hair, big brown ey
The White Parade: V of VIChapter V: Four WeeksThe White Parade: V of VI8 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
It’s a month to the show. A month. Four weeks, give or take a day…
“I can’t believe it. Prismacolor markers, pencils…oil paints, turpentine…brushes…” He stares at the bounty with wide eyes. “Where did you get all of this?”
I just grin and set down a bag full of canvases of various sizes on the bed. “I happen to have very good friends.”
Actually, Mac happens to have very good friends. Friends in places an artist can only dream to have friends.
“Are those the…?”
“Mm-hmm. I think someone said something about bringing in an easel later.”
“Really? A-an easel?”
“Mm-hm.” I open the window. A small breeze blows through the screen, but nothing strong enough to disrupt papers. “It’ll be easier than painting on the windowsill.”
“Yeah…” He goes back to staring at the
I Have A Poem...Much like gallant Mister King,I Have A Poem...4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I, too, have a giant dream
In which we've mended everything
And bind jointly by one seam
Where the only tears fall with smiles
And smiles aren't quite so scant
Where one could crawl for miles and miles
And not utter a single "can't"
Where days thrive with proper care
Where clocks are set just right
Where with every breath of air
There's one more star to light the night
Where we all speak with one voice
So that everyone is heard
Where we can all at last rejoice
With the power of this Word
I dream this dream with all my heart
But then I'm awake in bed
And I wonder, though torn apart,
Is my vision truly dead?
The White Parade: FinaleChapter VI: And on the Sixth Day...The White Parade: Finale8 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
His heart gives out in the emergency room. Doctors rush to fulfill their Hippocratic Oath. Intubate him first; get him breathing. Get the air in his lungs. While they do that, determine that this is the situation for the defibrillator, then get someone else to wheel it out so they can get his heart working. Charge it up…
The girl screams at the way his body jerks on the table. The heart monitor displays a sudden spike of green, stalling in its sound for a second before the spikes even out again, returning to the comfort of being a flat line.
She screams again. Again, there’s a spike on the monitor; again, it flattens out into an even line. They wonder why she’s still here. Silent messages get sent at light speed, even as thei
My Brother Broke Another Air Freshener The smell of pine drifted into my nose. It was subtle at first, but as I trudged along it became both thicker and yet less prominent; other aromas were wafting in my direction. Honey and lemon scents mixed with those of jasmine and coconuts; even something reminiscent of bacon joined in. It was the olfactory equivalent of a cacophony.My Brother Broke Another Air Freshener1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I coughed and tried quite hard to breathe out; anywhere a store decides to put all the air fresheners is bound to be hard to walk through. Nonetheless, I pushed through and picked up a small green tree-shaped car-freshener and headed back the other way to the cash registers.
There are only a couple of registers, with a selection of candy and tabloids set out between them; that’s all the store needs, given its slight size. Only one register was open and there was no one in line after the elderly couple buying their weekly paper and lottery ticket, so I waited for them to finish and
Soul SistersMy dear faraway-friend,Soul Sisters2 years ago in Letters More Like This
The skies are beautiful tonight. Just endless horizons as far as my eyes can see, with breathtaking white clouds against indigo heavens and stars sparkling with hidden promises.
I can't sleep. And you know me, when I can't sleep, I think. And as I ponder, far-fetched or philosophically, I usually write. Right now, my head is a maze of thoughts; they are all crawling through, passing each other but not one stands out from the crowd. Like people in the urban jungle we call home.
In contrast to my racing mind, the wind whispers softly through the leaves as I write these words. It's silent and soothing, almost like ocean waves crashing upon sandy shores. I can almost hear the gulls cry above the mighty waters, free and soaring with their feathers in flight- ready to carry them everywhere.
You know, somehow birds resemble a feeling of friendship to me. (As I read that last sentence back, I wonder if this might be the late hour talking, and not me, but I'll go on neve