umbrellasI.umbrellas10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A boy putters in the hotel
by a single thread of duty--
it is wound
twice around the doorknob,
pulls taut at his wrist.
Recede through the keyhole,
and his keepers are weary,
sprawled like dead
leaves on bedspreads,
A small girl wails, maybe three,
her teethy pitch escalating
In the rented night,
her last cry strangles,
undone by hands
A forty-foot red curtain separates us
from the amphibious stage.
At the cirque du soleil
(i squint to see the sun),
clowns chase leaks
with patchy umbrellas.
This is a present, a moment
like a birthday. But
i do not know my father's age--
in rows of rivets, well-provided
and well-dressed, we spring
Chuckling at clowns,
They all wear flower-
i am nothing
i will invest
in an umbrella
to grow up.
dance for an endyou shot me to feel cleaner about yourself, ya your the dirtiest one around.dance for an end9 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
my body did the best that my body can.
You dance cause you know that its the end, I should have had the trust in my friends.
You blew everyone's tires, and walked bragging about how you destroyed someone who you said you admired.
It's the end, you should know by now how to love yourself.
You light the fire that burns underneath our feet.
She was my angel, but my angel got tired of lying around.
Im doing the best that I can to hold back.
You know what I say.
Youll see what i'll be
I dance in clown shoes.I dance in clown shoes.11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You compose your conversations.
Fitfully gesturing with whatever you hold,
ending arguments with a flourish.
Make a point, now whirl, quickly.
Make it impossible to counter with your unpunctuation.
You duck and weave, spin, sidestep, pirouette:
One, two, one, two, faster, harder, stronger.
You leave me confused and two steps back,
just far enough behind to appear lost and unsure.
And if I catch up, if I make a point,
you spin again, a trail of words falling like pixie dust
as you make your escape.
And as you storm out, you slam the period behind you,
Ending your sentence with a door.
And I must follow you, my thuds down the stairs preceding my statement,
trying to catch up before the page break.
Now I capitalize a W, and follow with an a, i, t.
And you pause, spin, speak, gesture, spin, continue.
A waltz to counter my four-four.
You don't dance your words-
you speak a dance.
You speak a dance Baryshnikov couldn't follow.
You rapidly reverse the rhythm,
changing tempo in a blur of sound
something unrelated, like catseven now in the midst of thissomething unrelated, like cats6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
self-sung apathy and
dislocated poetic self-depreciation
no one knows what they are
short words in concise patterns
spaced and indented most appropriately
spelled out syllables and unorthodox rhymes
fluffed up like cotton
(not eaten like candy)
still searching for a small trace of identity
after we all threw it away
in pursuit of this futile dream
washed up on the shores of pseudo-poetry
Original: Key to My HeartLove can happen anywhere.Original: Key to My Heart8 years ago in General More Like This
That was the first thing that Jennas mother taught her. Love could happen at any place, at any time, to anyone. Love could be walking right around the corner; Love could be standing 2 feet away from you in the line at the grocery store. It could be gentle and soft like velvet; it could be powerful and passionate like a raging waterfall. The pizza boy could fall in love; the president of a powerful law firm could fall in love.
No one is immune, Jenna could remember her mother whisper to her as they had huddled in a blanket, watching the stars dance overhead. All it takes is one touch, one look, even a small sound, and youre hooked. Love is the sweetest drug in the entire world.
Jenna thought about love often as she grew up from a shy child to a social teenager until she was a sophomore in college in New York. Oh yes, things superseded it; exams, friends, parties. Yet, in the back of her mind, Jenna would hear her mot
Aboard the SS Complaints It had been days since the S.S Complaints had spotted any lulz. The crew wasAboard the SS Complaints6 years ago in Humor More Like This
anxious and moody. Of course no one was more moody than resident angry man, *ReallyAngry.
WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH THIS?! He screamed, I NEED SOMETHING TO BE ANGRY ABOUT. DAMN IT, COMPLAINTS GIVE ME SOMETHING TO RANT ABOUT!!
Shh, dear said =Bohobella, braiding flowers into his hair, The kids might hear you.
TO HELL WITH THE KIDS! THEY CANT HEAR US OUT HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE!!
Shut up *ReallyAngry, =Mixedpie glared at him, Im trying to make a couple dozen posts here and your ranting is making me lose my concentration,
More threads? groaned ~Rasec-Wizzlbang, havent you gotten the spam wa
A pair of idle sparrowsA pair of idle sparrows10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A pair of idle sparrows
There was a time when we would rest
as sparrows on a speckled roof,
and from the hills and skies of stone
would call upon the morning sun.
All through the verdant days of spring
we'd rouse the daybreak from the west
and, laughing in a new love's bliss
our song grew into unison.
But all throughout our idleness
the seasons passed and storms began,
and soon, despite our shrill protest,
the winter snow destroyed our home.
Too weak; you fell from our frail nest
and now with grief, I sing alone.
I Am A CameraLiquid sun now sips the oceanI Am A Camera11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and the clouds frame the moon.
Yes, the moon hits the stars and the wind blankets my back
UsedUsed10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
On the floor again, you say,
as the stone melts within my skin,
sticky and silent like butterflies.
You pushed me off my self
and ran rough fingers on my face,
You are beautiful, you say
so to the castle wall you laid me
to be loved until I broke apart.
Do tears burn your eyes, you ask,
they are beautiful,
just as an empire of stars,
I can almost see my self in there.
The queen opens the door again
and dances her way upstairs.
So hurry we must, you say
and love me too
before the world cages us.
You are beautiful and mine.
Sure the woman knows of it
but laughs her merry throat out.
and they walked through my foolishness.
I will be back tomorrow, you say,
and on to the floor again.
So I thought
you'd be here by now.
MementosDying is a pain in the ass and everywhere else too. I've died so often that perhaps I shouldn't mind it so much but I do.Mementos5 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
It's frequently messy, inconvenient and I'm so very tired of having to disappear.
I try not to leave anyone behind for whom my disappearance may cause distress. My own constant sorrow I do my best to hide. That's not to say I don't form relationships―I do. I'm a not a loner by any means. Like everyone else, I need human contact to keep me sane but I have the good sense to sever all ties with those I care about, before my time comes.
What am I you ask? I'm not really sure. I'm not a vampire or a god, or any kind of angel. That much I know. I'm flesh and blood with all the familiar moving parts and appearance of a human being. Still, something extraordinary happens to me, every twenty-five years or so.
My body consumes itself, not unlike spontaneous combustion. Only the process is a lot m
ReverieI.Reverie8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
They say every woman is a piece of the moon,
but I want the sun.
Dear Apollo, explain to me why you gave up
clear mornings for the shadowy future.
And I'll make you wish you hadn't burned a time before.
Because he's still sleeping, turned towards the window,
the thick blinds cracking with sunlight in the early dawn.
The navy sheets his royal dress, the rays his glory crown.
I wake up next to a god on Sunday morning,
hands still dirty from the night before.
But when I sleep, I dream of rhyming big words
Building them on top of each other, letting it touch the sky.
I rub up against them once in awhile to test their strength,
To see if they feel soft against my forehead.
And then I lose whatever I've found.
He says the forgetting defines me.
Once, in another life, I was a girl in Montana.
My face wasn't smooth and I carried a knife
strapped to my boot. I branded horses with a reverse K,
and carved hearts into bedposts.
I guess I felt a need to prepare for the real thing
The Morning After Louis woke up in his bed, fully clothed. His head was throbbing and his mouth felt dry. He moved to get up, but just rolled off the bed and hit the ground. With a groan, he braced himself and rose to his feet, groggily moving to the door. Stumbling into the hallway, Louis looked at the people. They were all laying on the floor in complete silence; sleeping, he thought. Through his blurred vision couldn't make out any of their faces, but he was sure he knew most of them.The Morning After8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He stumbled to the kitchen down the hall and to the kitchen, taking a pack of Columbian gourmet coffee from the cupboard. His parents were arriving that afternoon, and they would flip out if they knew he had a party while they were gone. He hung his head and drank the coffee slowly, trying to regain his composure and overcome his hangover. If it wasn't for those kegs that Rick brought, he'd
I Had a Slug...I had a slug...I Had a Slug...8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I had a slug, it was my pet
I kept him in a jam jar
It got depressed, began to fret
Because he couldn't crawl far
I kept it on the windowsill
'Till one hot sunny day
I found him stiff and all dried up
Poor slug had passed away.
And now my sluggie haunts me
He floats around my room
He points accusing horns at me
and threatens me with doom
'Why did you leave the lid on?'
He whispers in my ears
His slimy face all sorrowful
With small, wet sluggie tears
And now my nights are haunted
Slugs vengeance will not cease
Though he had a Christian burial
My slug won't rest in peace
Unsave MeU n s a v e m eUnsave Me8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Steal away the softness from my eyes.
I want your fingerprints on my thighs,
The rainbows you leave there
When I taste your blood on my lips.
Make me beg.
Feed me the emptiness I crave,
Please- kiss me with your teeth.
Fill my head with your throat-sounds,
To chase away the void.
I cannot stand your gentle hands.
They stroke so tenderly,
And though I ache for you
To score with pointed fingertips
The smooth skin of my hips,
You do not.
Bruise away my bitter deeds
Like I long of you.
Rid me of damned innocence,
Flay me with my longing
My raspy yes is barbed within my throat.
Red welts on ivory skin,
Black oceans of bliss
Your name, carved deep enough to scar.
These things I want-
For you to make me nothing,
Free me from myself,
Blind me so that I may see you,
Choke me so that I may breathe.
U n s a v e m e.
winter has swallowed the worldwinter has swallowed the world today,winter has swallowed the world7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
his blistering fury biting at faces
and speckling tree trunks and window
panes. he disguises all things, provides
a pure slate of marble dust that blankets
every surface. when he finally settles down,
all things settle with him. the pine forest
has become a herd of mammoths, weary branches
quietly sweeping the ground below.
A Veil of DeathThe skin is torn;A Veil of Death7 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
now envisioning arms
painted with a touch
of crimson sky.
They do not see it
for I speak of falsities;
pretending still to care,
yet the burden in each breath.
Oh, but to carry on,
even when there is no hope;
it is a false pretense
as is the thought of fulfillment.
I am no more than a shadow
yet I embrace the unknown;
for what should await me
behind this veil of death.
White Magick, Black Death "It's too late."White Magick, Black Death5 years ago in Horror More Like This
The old man said, and I knew it was true. I felt the emptiness of the estate behind him. She was gone, like the rest of her family. Freezing, I stood at the gates of my love's home and tried hard to revel in the few but precious memories of our time together. Everything was like a dream, only my feelings were so real.
Suddenly, I wasn't sure anymore if it really had been just a dream, or wishful thinking. The squeal of the closing gate brought me back to the here and now. I took a step forward and caught an icy iron bar with one gloved hand.
"Where did she go?" I asked the old servant. He sadly shook his head, as if he had expected me to ask.
After a long moment of silence, he offered, "I can take you there."
I had passed the gat
Memories of Halloween Nights.Memories of past Halloween Nights...Memories of Halloween Nights.6 years ago in Biography & Memoir More Like This
Happy Children smiling, wearing their halloween costumes, not fancy ones, but really creative ones made with sheets and pillows,old hats and masks made of cardboard...
Brave children wandering into the night...
Three children that in the road for trick or treat would meet with 3 cousins or friends so they would not be alone in the street,all of them with a mix of fear and surprise in their faces,with eyes well opened in case they could find a ghost,a vampire or a witch,and because of the horror stories and tales about witches and ghosts told by their parents and teachers,but 'confirmed' by their friends who used to tell them: "Yes,I saw the ghost in that house"...or "in that house lives a witch...my mom told me"...and the children used to knock on those doors asking for 'Trick or treat' with their faces reflecting more curiosity than fear,because in those young years innocence is so pure that real fear is unknown...
And the fear was forgotten by the
Thank You, deviantARTThank You, deviantART7 years ago in Editorial More Like This
November 6, 2007
Dear deviantART Community,
Expressing thanks to you all seems so little, though words are all I have to offer. People from all around the world, that I've met through this community and become friends with, have offered so much more than tips, tricks, and information about art and photography. There are people from many different countries, with all sorts of belief systems and points of view, that have encouraged me, and through me, my family, during my Dad's sickness. There are many of us on dA who are serious about the art community and our love of art, whether it be photography, drawing, digital art, etc., that reach out to each other in different ways, and are always there to encourage and nudge each other along.
One of my real-life friends often comments about how people and friends through the internet aren't "real" people; how there is an "invisibility" barrier. But, I disagree. I know the internet can be a