Everlasting FlightEverlasting Flight4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Deep below, a rainbow glistens
She only hesitates a moment
Before she releases her hold
On the rose red stone
Reveling in the rush of falling
The sounds around her fill her ears
Roaring, screaming, crying, pleading
Mixed with her cries of delight
She opens her senses
To the striking fantasy,
The radiant dream
The castle in the sky
She's trembling as the world
Dances across her elated face
And tickles her naked skin
And lifts her gossamer hair
Loving the silence
Of the everlasting flight
She's soaring above the world
Unseen and unheard
Shivering as leaves brush against her
As a bitter frost prickles her
As dust tickles her
As daylight warms her
She is the Wind
Everlasting and always flying
Dearest LoveDearest LoveDearest Love3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm happy right now, I'm smiling and I'm not sure why
well that's not true, I know the reason
It's you, you have brought such joy into my life.
Until now the waiting seemed hard, in fact it had begun to hurt
three simple words entering my mind and sometimes passing my lips
'I miss you' and it's true, I do
But never have I considered giving up, to stop waiting. Let me tell you why
Because I love you, you came into my life and brought such emotion into my life
Feelings I wasn't even sure I could have
Now whenever I think about you, I am happy and no longer sad
So don't worry I can wait, for as long as it takes
Because it's you, the woman, the only one I would or could do this for
I will wait for however long it takes because you are worth it
I love you so much, thank you for coming into my life
Love now and forever
Terminal ConditionThe romance novels areTerminal Condition2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
leaping from top shelf
one after another
Can they no longer
suspend disbelief in
themselves? Is cognitive
dissonance a terminal
condition for Story,
for any creature
composed entirely of
Or does despair plague
fruit of under-
trapped within melodramatic
too anemic to summon
or sustain authority
empowered to shape,
to build worlds
I Am HourglassI Am Hourglass2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Fighting crime in tight spandex is not always the best idea. Especially if, like me, you have a body you're not all that keen on showing off. Yeah, the chain-mail bikinis distract the bad guys (that's why you see so many super-heroines out there in almost nothing), but at the same time, they can distract you, and that's not what you want. Are my boobs still in this thing? Is my skirt riding up? Uh! Killer wedgie! Not really my thing. Besides, I don't have super strength or mind-blowing offensive powers. It's better if I'm not in the limelight - leave that to Green Lantern. All I have is time.
Yeah. That's my superpower. I'm Hourglass. Don't bother asking me how I do it, because I don't know. All I know is that sometimes I find myself a few hours or minutes or days in the past, often with no idea why except that something in the near future is about to go wrong. And somehow I have to fix it - without supernatural abilities. Just
Homestuck RantI do not like Homestuck. Anyone who knows me on here knows how much I loath this comic. I hate it, I hate the insane fans, and I HATE having it shoved down my throat.Homestuck Rant4 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Now before you get up in arms about this let me say something first.
At one time I considered reading it and I actually did read it eventually when a friend of mine, who actually is not a friend anymore, suggested I should. Well I did read it. I read a LOT of the pages. Over 1000 or so. I started out with the trolls because "it's not good until you reach them". So I started reading from there.
Edit: As of November 9th I have read the comic from the beginning... yeah still boring.
I can say this... I didn't see what the big deal was. Most of the time the characters would sit in their houses and chat on the computer. Oh every once in awhile something would happen but it wasn't all that interesting. To be honest the only character I liked was Terezi even if she is rather crazy. The comic, to me, was rathe
What do you mean, meaning?You ask for the meaning of lifeWhat do you mean, meaning?2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like it has one meaning:
like a rose, or a raindrop, or a butterfly.
But life is just living - breathing - being alive!
a thing to celebrate for its own sake,
not a thing to contemplate.
Life just IS - and it's a thing we should embrace,
spend doing what we love, just in case
we never get another chance, or time or place
to make a difference.
Text © Sunny Jackson. All Rights Reserved.
Writing Tips: Beginner's Guide to Avoiding ClichesOne of the biggest questions I tend to get from writers is how to avoid making their work cliche. I can't give you an upfront answer to that because the answer depends largely on what you're doing and how you're doing it. And let me start by saying this: the greatest writer on earth can make any cliche work. Think about it: How to Train Your Dragon isn't exactly an original movie by any stretch, but it's outstanding because of the way that it uses the tropes that have dragged down other similar movies in horrible ways. The best way to figure out what would be cliche is to read a ton of whatever is in your genre/plot type (and by "read" I mean read books, comic books, manuals, RPG guide books, watch television shows and movies, listen to music etc).Writing Tips: Beginner's Guide to Avoiding Cliches10 months ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
For example, if you're I dunno, writing a series about kids ruling the world or making their own rules you're going to check out a lot in that medium. You'll soon figure out that most of them are crapsack dystopias and figure out that the ar
To Go FarTo Go Far9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Woman, you said you wouldn't
leave the world behind. All the pieces,
you had all the pieces in a line and you were measuring
and drawing routes, bus trips back to where
you think things start. This suitcase
on the stoop, then, mustn't be yours.
Woman, you said you'd got a ticket out
and a ticket out for me, that we'd both be
over the moon by now. But you live limpid
in the city lights and I live the same nights
and between us, we can't weave enough of a day.
There is no fading, love, and no saving.
This white-on-white hospital light
you've brought outside with you
is all of your strength. You show up against
grey skies, you ghost in lamplight,
you love your children unborn. They are
dreams, as you're a dream, as is the hand
warming your palm. There is no hand, woman,
warming your palm, you've left it behind, named
for a dream dissolve. So no one is saviour, or victor, or love.
There is just us alone. Why remove us
from the road? Why remove us to jasmine
and this melancholy star? Woman,
All That I AmAll That I AmAll That I Am5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A monster, yet still human
A sinner, yet still a saint
A liar, yet still truthful
A dog, yet still a being
A loser, yet still a winner
A creep, yet still normal
A corps, yet still alive
A waste, yet still of value
A corrupter, yet still clean
A king, yet still a peasant
A beggar, yet still rich
A curse, yet still a blessing
A whore, yet still pure
A ghost, yet still flesh
A criminal, yet still honest
A boaster, yet still humble
A bastard, yet still caring
A nerd, yet still a jock
A wimp, yet still strong
A fool, yet still wise
All these things I am at any given time, at any given day,
I am proud to admit these and yet,
I am sure to deny them all.
The life of a hour glassThe life of a hour glass6 years ago in Visual & Found Poetry More Like This
Egy homokóra élete
Öreg homokóra áll fenn a polcon,
Rég nem forgatja senki se már.
Sok ezer szemcse, apró homokszem,
Peregne már, de hiába vár?
Vékony üveg rúd, két végén széles,
Közepén kis rés, melyen a homok peregne át.
Nyílik az ajtó, a kis gyermek belép,
Kék szeme csillan, mint vízen az ég.
Lassan indul az óra felé,
Tudja, jól mit tesz, bár ne volna így.
Épphogy eléri, még nyújtózkodik.
Két kicsi keze szorítja az órát,
Mely, mint madártoll, könnyű neki.
Lassan fordítja, mint szellő az avart,
Ezer homokszem lassan pereg.
Hullik a mélybe, majd újra fel.
Örül az óra, örül a gyerek,
De örömüknek hamar vége lett.
Röpül az óra a padló felé,
Majd ezer homokszem minden felé.
Lake WindermereWe are sometime tourists,Lake Windermere8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in open topped buses
tie-dyed amongst Mercedes.
smelling of campfire smoke,
our pockets filled with menthol cigarettes,
and skipping stones.
We find ourselves
basking in the glow of laughter
under the dripdrip
of cave music.
Beers and sticky chocolate bars
fill our tattered canvas bags,
alongside leather flip flops,
discarded for bare footed expeditions
and daisy chains.
Rizseshu's on request HUNUtálom, amikor valaki azt hiszi, hogy a skizofrénia az, amikor több énje van.Rizseshu's on request HUN7 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Ugyanis ez tévedés.
Az, amit ők skizofréniának hívnak, nem más, mint a tudathasadás. Amikor az egyednek több énje van.
Ilyen vagyok én is, bár lehet, hogy csak tévképzetektől szenvedek, hallucinálok? Mindig másnak hiszem magam ugyanis. Néha azt hiszem, rizs vagyok, vígan szívom magamba a napfényt, fotoszintetizálok, magányosan vegetálva, és szívom magamba a nemrég lehullott esőt, mi a föld repedésein keresztül, féreg módjára csúszik mind lejjebb, míg belém nem botlik, s én magamévá nem teszem őt, beépítve magamba.
Máskor már sertésnek hiszem magam, amint épp eme rizsszemet igyekszem lelegelni, mert nekem bármi jó, vagy épp egy pocsolyában
CsigaA csiga nyálkástestű kis jószág, hasonlatos a rosszul megfőzött tésztához, amit róla neveztek el. Hátán gyakran hord mészből felépülő házat, ami külön jól jön télen, amikor nem kell társasházi rezsit fizetnie, bár legtöbb hasznát tagadhatatlanul akkor veszi, amikor támadóval kerül szembe. Ilyenkor szépen bevackol a házába, és elő se jön mindaddig, míg úgy nem gondolja, hogy hál'isten, elmúlt a veszély. Rafináltabb csigaevők ilyenkor szoktak aztán rárontani. Több fajtája ismeretes, így a házas tehát minimum élettársi kapcsolatban élő csiga, a meztelen csiga, mely az előbbivel ellentétben hajléktalan, a mély hangokat kiadó búgócsiga, amely a csörgőkígyCsiga7 years ago in Humor More Like This
So You Wanna Be a Writer?Many writers profess their desire to be novelists or poets, and sometimes even journalists, but very few--indeed, even those sitting with Creative Writing degrees, know what other options are out there for someone gifted with words. Your old Alma Mater wasn't lying when they said you could do "anything" with an English Literature degree, but they may have been leaving out much of the story.So You Wanna Be a Writer?8 years ago in Editorial More Like This
For writers, especially those trying to break into the publishing business, the world is a daunting (and often depressing) place. Securing a literary agent is almost necessary in today's oversaturated market and, while many publishers are still looking for the 'next big thing' or a new revival of the ever-dying 'literary fiction', just as many are happy to continuing publishing texts that make money. Do not lose hope, however! Publishing the Great American Novel is not the only way to call yourself a writer, and sometimes you can slip in through the back d
Star Trek: Sigils and Unions--Flash2371—The Time of the Maquis Uprising—24 hours remainingStar Trek: Sigils and Unions--Flash4 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
The 2305-series Starfleet Type-I hand phaser lay in pieces on the sixteen-year-old human boy’s desk. His dad had managed to hide the old weapon from the Cardassians when they’d beamed down for their first ‘security sweeps,’ but he hadn’t exactly managed to hide it from his own son. Hadn’t even noticed his prized phaser had been gone for three days already.
It baffled the boy, as he installed the beam collimator he’d managed to scrounge up, how his father could complain about the Federation as they abandoned their people to politics, how he could complain about the Cardassian jackboots and do nothing about it. He couldn’t even be bothered to tuck tail and run when the Cardies took over, let alone stand up and fight like the Maquis were doing.
And now, the boy marveled as he clicked in a power cell he
Le Ballon NoirNobody knows why its there:Le Ballon Noir8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
if it was left by a deity,
or a couple, or a father who didnt want
a black balloon at the wedding,
they didnt leave a calling card
when they tied it to the lamp-post
for the climbing boy to find.
Once released the balloon attacks
bobbing off his head and arms
as he clings to the ironwork.
The fall is caused by the distraction
rather than the force itself
and breaks a leg -
he mightve cracked his head too
on the way down.
A man selling hot rice
runs to the aid of the folded boy
and sees the balloon drifting skywards,
Loning over dusty hills
towards the grey tenement
it finds a dog to tease, bouncing
off the windowpane as it yaps in alarm.
This rouses a drunk man,
who bursts onto the balcony lurching outwards he grabs for it
misses, grabs for it, misses, grabs for...
The woman carrying bread
encounters her lifeless husband
and her wails are still audible
as the balloon sails across the main
A Child's PrayerA Child's Prayer4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Turn your face
to the light
and let me see the sun
surprise your lungs.
Tuck the doll
under your bed
for daddy's safe return.
Let mother find you
no one to disturb
the thickset press
of winter on your lashes
or the morning's
glowing on your cheeks.
but it also meansIt's mundane,but it also means9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the soda aisle
and my wandering, walking up
then down. I frown to distract.
And buy the soda you love
because you might, you
might be here to have it. Though
with I need a drink.
I don't need a drink.
The same strength, faux-weak
ness that I will always have,
and tell myself I learned from you.
I buy it, afraid I won't like the taste,
or maybe I will and it'll be there
for a few days squishing along inside me.
It's just fucking soda, but it also means
I still love you.
Fekete lyukFekete lyuk7 years ago in Mystery & Suspense More Like This
A sötét, füstös csepeli utcán siettem hazafelé. Estére járt, ilyenkor kevesen rótták már az utcákat, azok is csak vándorok, bitangok és különböző istenek voltak. Fürgén lépkedtem lábaimmal, nehogy akármelyikük csapdájába sétáljak. Felnéztem az égre. Én magam sem tudom pontosan miért, talán csak a teliholdat kerestem.
Ekkor láttam meg. Nagy volt, és sötétebb, mint a legfeketébb éjszaka. Lassan kavargott felettem és úgy nézett le rám, mint valami hatalmas, gonosz szem. Ahogy a szememet meresztettem rá, egyre nagyobbá és nagyobbá vált.
Lassan elpusztulni látszott körülöttem a környezet. Fák csavaródtak ki tövestűl, csak azért, hogy utánna a betondarabokkal összeütközve a hatalmas lyuk