Je t'aime Je TaimeJe t'aime6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I guess when writing a story, one should start from the beginning, so as to allow the reader to understand who the story is about. I suppose it is only fitting.
Bernard Tourmaline was never one for shooting the breeze idly such that many people find exceedingly exciting and pleasurable. At the time of his fourth year he had barely even spoken more than four words to a single person (other than that of his imaginary friend Jacobo, with whom he spoke for hours on end when nobody was paying attention).
When I Die...When I die...When I Die...6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
When I die I want a Viking Burial.
Take me out to sea.
Shoot me with a FLAMING arrow!
Let the fire take care of me .
Or maybe you can cremate me;
Put me in a cheap wood bin.
And when I'm finally naught but ash,
Toss me to a strong North wind!
Maybe I'll have a reg'lar burial,
Done the normal way.
I'll rest my skull on comfy pillows
While the rest of me decays!
Instead, why not have a celebration?
Followed by a PARADE!
Then hand out bits of all my things
So all the kids can trade!
Or why let my body go to waste?
Feed it to the beasts!
Then turn my bones into dice and pieces-
For games after the feast!
Donate me to science, even!
They can carefully cut me open;
And nod, take notes, and say "mmhmm..."
as they're elbow-deep in organs!
Oh! I know! MUMMIFY ME!!!
You won't need to rent a hearse!
Just throw me in a pyramid,
And leave a note about my curse! ;
If you want to make things easier,
Just put me in a sack.
Throw me in the rive
Dancing She closes her eyes and rests the side of her head against your chest, listening to your heart. Its rapid pitter-patter like rain against the window fills her senses while you both continue dancing. Dancing to the music that exists only in your heads. Sway from left to right in an unnamed waltz of adoration. Kiss the top of her head. Feel her hold you tighter, and return it. She needs you, just as you need her.Dancing6 years ago in General More Like This
Smoothly slide your feet, let the soles tease the floor, never staying heavy for long (as though you're floating) while the angelic music envelopes your being. Her's. It's all the same now, your two souls are as tightly bound as your hands, so desperately clenched in love. She pulls away, and gazes up at you. Those look like tears. Pull her back in and don't let go. Lightly press those quivering lips to yours. The warm wetness falling onto your joined lips further fires your passion. Just kiss the girl, and n
heart-shaped stump .for mel.I meditate in blackened veinsheart-shaped stump .for mel.6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
atop a heart-shaped stump
tenderly i hold my reins
and wonder why i'd jumped
and as i lay there crying
more of me desists
and as i lay there dying
my mind cannot resist
to question what you mean to me
and then my mind dies too
and all that's left of me's my heart
and it says only 'I love you.'
and so i think i'll die in agony
alone and without your love
but then a light shines down on me
and lands next to me a dove.
it relays to me a message
from me from now hereafter
and i clasp my hand over my mouth
to restrain a slippery laughter
'you are loved still
by a greater love
and a greater love you'll feel.
you'll stand again
because you'll kneel
you will be loved
you will be healed'
and blackened veins
turn white and lush
turn to ash
and i thank the Lord my God above
because I know His love will last.
hangingI wishhanging6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Your sweet smelling
blond haired detachment
Your numb heart beating
heavily shackled in your chest
I wish I were you in your
soft spoken denial
Your too white smile
that a smitten soul
wrote for you
I wish I could shut myself out
like you do.
Maybe then I'd understand people like you.
But this quiet eyed
This green envy
above my taller than average
I'll -never-be your- covergirl -frame,
Bury Them DeadBury Them DeadBury Them Dead6 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
One man come say
Bury her dead.
Make it fast
Just shoot her in the head
And when thats done well lay her in a bed
Wrap her up tight
And bury her dead.
Hold on a minute.
Snatch that ring from her finger
Take her clothes too
Dont let them linger
Cause when youre dead
You dont need clothes
So Ill get a shovel, and you get a rose.
Young man come say
Take me instead.
Just make it fast
And shoot me in the head
And when thats done please bring her to my bed
Let her hold me tight
Then bury me dead.
Hold on a minute.
This a real humdinger
You must be the child what put that ring on her finger
We picked her body clean
From her fingers to her toes
You wanted to die with her
Now youre gonna die alone.
One man come say
Bury em dead.
Made it clean and fast
And shot em in the head
When he was done he put them in a bed
Wrapped them up together
And buried em dead.
LullabyDraco saw him fall. For a moment, he hesitated as thoughts of punishment flew through his mind. But only for a moment. Damning the consequences, he ran through the smoke, tripping over unconscious bodies and fallen tree limbs in his haste.Lullaby6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Hush my love, now dont you cry
Everything will be alright
Harrys face was a mass of blood. It looked like someone had taken him down with a strong Diffindo. Draco kneeled beside him and cast a quick Aguamenti to wash the blood away. God his face was torn to bits. On closer inspection, Draco saw that Harrys chest was covered with the familiar lines of Sectumsempra. Only three people on this battlefield knew that curse. One was lying in a steadily widening pool of his own blood, while another tried to staunch the flow. The third
Draco hadnt seen Snape since the melee beg
Crazy - Part OneIts a big girl world now, full of big girl thingsCrazy - Part One6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
And every day, I wish I was small
Ginny awoke with bright light in her eyes. She was warm and comfortable, though her head ached and she squinted against the pure, white glare. Her mind was fuzzy, and she struggled to swim up to the surface of consciousness.
Youre awake, an unfamiliar voice said, sounding pleased. Can you open your eyes?
Ginny raised a hand to shield herself from the light. It looked wrong. It wasnt sunlight or candlelight. It seemed to be emanating from two white tubes on the ceiling. Her arm shook at the strain of lifting it. She blinked furiously and finally looked at the stranger standing beside her.
He was a short man, probably no taller than Ginny herself, with plain features and average colored hair. He appeared to be about fifty, but his
Margot is a writer.Margot is a writer.Margot is a writer.8 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Margot wanders through her days crafting heart-stoppingly wondrous stories in her head, but is too slow a handwriter to preserve them on paper in undiluted form. She sends thousands of words and ideas spiralling out of her mind and into the night sky because her hand is fabulously lazy and her memory is brief. Margot is a writer, or so she tells company. In reality, with an excellent education and above-average intelligence (her words), she works in a clothes shop, mocking the idiots and refolding endless tables of poorly made jumpers. This is not something she would enjoy us pondering on, and so we proceed.
She does not write much but suffers the occasional bright idea or compelling phrase. An endless cast of characters lives in her head, all of whom she loves so well that they have each become an extension of her own personality. When she feels angry, she becomes the glacial young widow. When frightened, she is the curator haunted by ghosts of the past. Mar
Droplets of LightVoices rise, into a clamor.Droplets of Light6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
There's a thud of wood and a clash of metal.
He wants to run, but it's heavy.
(conscience and souls)
Step by step, just another,
step by step, just one more,
step by step and you're at the door.
That tiny glass had never been so reflective.
He turns to walk the trodden path, and stumbles.
shed the shell.
This coursing river had never been gra
EuphoriaHer bright eyes smile back at him.Euphoria6 years ago in General More Like This
He cups her chin with delicate fingertips. Her head tilts towards his while his hand slips down, grazing her neck, rounding her shoulder. His hand opens to a palm, pressed against her back and she inches even closer to him, eyes still smiling.
She had done a lot to get here. Only after months of debate and discussion, tearing down the foundations of everything he thought he knew, she effectively broke him. Now it was up to her to build him back up.
His hand returns up her back, traveling down from the base of her shoulder along the arm resting on her side. The two smile as their fingers intertwine. His other hand was content to prop up his flushed cheeks. Words continued to elude him; anything he could say would ruin the simple beauty of their closeness.
She knew him well. Even without any change in his expression, she could tell what he was thinking.
He found a gentle finger pressed to his lips. His chest swelled with serenity and he exhaled a sigh o
A sad jokeyou Told me to TryA sad joke6 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
to stop Loving you like this
Silly Silly Man.
Sadness Seizure.Sadness SeizureSadness Seizure.6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Is a post-ictal state
That comes after the shaking flood.
Is an egress
That brings me closer to the times when I wasn't forgotten.
Is a slow quake
That casts veins of canyons in my mind.
And the Tears
Are for all of the memories that you forgot.
I'm not dead yet.
I'm not dead yet.
Little emo kid attack.Still trying to smile,Little emo kid attack.6 years ago in Scraps More Like This
but I can't seem to hold it.
Still trying to keep my eyes open,
but all this water floods them.
Still trying to climb up,
but I just slide down.
Still trying to be that person,
but all I end up with is me.
When It's Over.When It's Over.When It's Over.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
When the pain has finally froze,
and my mind can breath again-
And the hurt inside's subsiding,
I will still be your friend.
I cannot hear your voice;
Or even see the words you mouth,
because I have no choice.
Your words no longer hold the truth.
Your face is fake and cruel.
I'm sick of losing precious sleep,
and of times when I can't move.
I've shed my tears (all the while alone),
even while in your arms.
I didn't let you notice;
I feared your devil's charm.
Lies are all you mean to me;
and lies mean naught at all.
No longer are you my White Knight,
I've found you're much too small.
It happened rather quickly;
this change from bad to good.
And I refuse to care for you,
regardless if i should.
The bitterness is over now.
I'm through with playing fools.
I was just another toy to you;
one of your plastic tools.
I'm not one to curse or hate.
I don't even hold a grudge.
I'll only wave and wish you well,
and let God be your judge.
I'm just hur
Crazy - Part TwoFather forgive usCrazy - Part Two6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
For what we must do
You forgive us
Well forgive you
Ginny had a long time to think after Malfoy left. How could he be two completely different people at the same time? The Malfoy she had known since she was eleven was nasty, petty, greedy, and selfish, but he was none of those things when he poured healing into her hand and talked about the war. It was easy to forget, when he spoke, that they had been fighting on opposite sides.
He had been kind and gentle, funny and clever. Where had that part of him been hiding all those years? Or was it all a show an attempt to charm her because he needed her?
Ginny was still puzzled by his reaction just before he left. She had no idea why her words had upset him so. That train of thought led her back to Harry.
Harry and Ginny said their goodbyes before the battle. They never officially got back together after he
BeautyYour eyes.Beauty7 years ago in General More Like This
I will never be able to forget your eyes. Fathomless pools of beauty I could lose myself in for hours. When they open, they cast a vibrant light, as though nothing in this world could be hidden from you. They shine and glitter like a roomful of diamonds, all of which I would trade, just to receive the smallest glance from you.
Your hair, each strand more valuable than gold and worth infinitely more to me. Every lock perfectly contoured to your face, adding to your beauty. The sight of their delicate dance as the wind blows against them, gently caressing your creamy skin is irreplaceable.
Your face, flawless in every aspect. The flush of your cheeks, your full and tempting lips, your enchanting smile that leaves me speechless, immersed in your angelic presence.
Your mesmerizing laugh. A melody that controls me, drives me to do anything possible to bring that euphonious sound to grace everyone around you.
And your body. It seems impossible such a form can be bound to earth, ra
SeasonsSeasons8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A warm breeze blows and calls "farewell"
With summer, it skips away to dwell
In a land far off where I've never been
And leaves me to remember when
The days were long and the nights were free
I feel its warmth now leaving me
What will you bring me?
Too soon I feel its icy breath
The Northern Wind as cold as death
Searing away the soft fall air
Dulling the trees and their leaves so fair
The gentle sun begins its sleep
Behind the clouds in the sky to keep
What's in store for me?
The snow is melting, the air is singing
Everywhere, the bells are ringing
To say goodbye to cozy days
By the fire or out in the snow to play
Mittens and hats and coats are stored
We won't be needing them anymore
Will you make me happy?
The cool green earth grows warmer now
And in my mind I remember how
The soft rays kissed my face, so sweet
As each day I rose to greet
The warm breeze from its travels wide
It waits for me to step outside
Tell me your tales
Looking ForwardLooking back, Harry had to admit that searching for a Death Eater nest alone, unarmed, and slightly intoxicated was, perhaps, a poor idea. He tried to recall or fabricate some rationale for his actions, but the best he could come up with was "it seemed like a good idea at the time". Well, making excuses didn't get him out of the trouble he was in.Looking Forward7 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Problem number one: he had no idea where he was. It was dark, without even the dim outline of a door or a window to use for reference. Someone had gone to a lot of bother to make the room completely dark.
Problem number two: he was tied to a bed. Harry supposed that this point could be either a good thing or a bad thing. At least he was comfortable. The last time he was kidnapped and held captive, he had been chained to a cold stone floor. His captor was at least somewhat humane. However, he still couldn't get away. Yes, t
crucifictioncrucifiction9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lifeless but for
he awaits the whips,
the screaming and writhing
all that sex and violence
is left to linger
with the legacy of silence
her faith has left behind
she stands at attention
ready to vociferate, to hold
in restraint, in detention
in the name of her lord
built in the name of sin
saved by a bloody god
born in the hay of an inn
sentenced to suicide
she wallows in his mercy,
folds her hands every night
forever longing and thirsty
for his divine prize
yet tears of perfect piety
embrace the flesh
of her idolatry
down on her knees again
why hast thou forsaken me?
My Hero, Let Me Go My Hero, Let Me GoMy Hero, Let Me Go6 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Heroes are something special; they are the irreplaceable images that compel us to shape our lives in a certain way. They are the idols that we all place whimsically on pedestals and egregiously defend with every essence of our being because we believe that they make us who we are. Yet, what if our heroes deviate from our holy view of them (after all of the impact that they have bequeathed)? What does that make us? It makes us a broken people. Until we live for ourselves, we are eventually doomed to wallow in disappointment.
The tap tap tapping of the keys to the typewriter was as much of an adrenali