Paradise LostI watched the taste of Shangri-LaParadise Lost in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
bring strong men to their knees
and felt the wasting warm grow thick
like sylphs among the trees.
A languid poison, rich and sweet
filled each and every glass
it kissed their lips with want and left
its bruise upon the grass.
It moved like lovers, so wanton soft
in heavy, tangled sighs
and held them willing prisoners
betrayed with whispered lies.
Desire, like a living thing
crept forth to steal their breath;
it stilled the blood within their veins
in shadowed blooms of death.
They slipped into a coil of dreams,
pale visions brushing skin
that plucked the hearts from in their chests
and broke them from within.
And now, deep lost in lethargy,
they wait with stricken sighs,
to know their world has now become
the ruin of paradise...
Spring CleaningThe sickening slam-dunkSpring Cleaning in Free Verse More Like This
his heart made
when it hit the floor
like a soft boiled egg -
so she scooped it up
and fed it lovingly to the bird,
wondering why the litter pan
had not been emptied
and the kitchen smelled of sweat.
Her husband took up
too much room
along with the credenza
stuffed in the closet.
She couldn't get the vacuum
round them both.
and his shadow was eating up
too much daylight.
Childe PoetHe ran with scissors,Childe Poet in Free Verse More Like This
chalked the room
bright blue for spite -
all to make a name.
With haste he stepped
on sidewalk cracks
and slept with lions,
snug and tight
as winter evenings
lost in dream-wood.
He pulled rabbits out of hats
and talked the thin air
into changing colors -
the snake tail of evening
churning on the lake.
And dragons bowed down low
and claimed his heart
a luscious toy
and made promises
to the reed backed wind
that he would live forever.
All Hallow's EveThe pale keening of cicadasAll Hallow's Eve in Free Verse More Like This
echoes in the sun's lingering hue
and on the horizon
smoke unfurls its wooded glory
through the glen.
Pumpkins crown the curling vines
waiting to be claimed
in greedy grasps
and turned like changeling goblins
and this bright crush
of maize and barley
carves the crisp evening
and singes our eyes
in the fine glory of a psalm.
The Lady of AstolatThe Lady of Astolat in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
A dangling weave of tangled threads
Lies mangled on the loom.
The scent of broom and bitter root
Still permeates the gloom.
A shadowed light was all her world,
Wherein the mirror lies -
The misted lake of Avalon,
A dulcimer of sighs.
And she would gaze on Camelot
Within the mirror's glass
A peerless portal to that world,
Its future and its past.
The halcyon days of Arthur's court
In songs of troubadours,
The knights and code of chivalry -
A kingdom she adored.
Weave and spin; spin and weave
Watch the shuttle fly
The days weave out; the days weave in
And I will break the sky.
She felt the waning years' restraint,
The gloom of heart entombed
A shadow play of tragedy
The censed reek of doom.
"Alas, I am a Queen of shades
To bear the cruelest taunt -
To never gaze at Camelot,
Just its reflected haunt."
When on that road to Camelot
She glimpsed a knight so fair,
She turned from mirror to gaze out
And ached to flee her lair.
The shuttle broke within her hand;
The tapestry unfurled;
Lost BoyTrouble laid its hands on youLost Boy in Free Verse More Like This
like a deathbed blessing
sucking the warm beer
down with the night's
dirty promise to be good.
He could smell her
from across the room -
how her dress bloomed
like a stale cabbage rose
and the sickening pink
of the sponge curlers
charring the roots of her hair.
The tepid blue
of her eyes annoyed him
and the clacking of her nails
so red from the sweat
of his uncle's back
left his mouth aching
and unable to swallow.
She reminded him of an egg,
he thought -
swollen and bloated
with the smell
of too much living,
leaving the razor
in his shoe
for a new start...
ShroudShe weaves a dress upon the loom,Shroud in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
her neighbors knowing it's a shroud,
window dressing for a tomb -
she weaves a dress upon the loom.
Forbidden fruit has scarred the womb,
a stranger's face amidst the crowd,
she weaves a dress upon the loom -
her neighbors knowing it's a shroud.
CheatsThe light makes cheatsCheats in Free Verse More Like This
of us both,
so we change clothes
in the greedy dark
or thinking twice.
We do not touch,
our skin afraid to lose
or breathe too close.
We pass in the street
but do not acknowledge
in the glare of taxi cabs
or the stiff pull of elevators.
We do not rub elbows
or let our shoulder blades
But I would know you
anywhere - any place
the sun is uneasy
and the skin of us
or strangers are told
in another direction.
NovemberAutumnNovember in Free Verse More Like This
and full breasted
with the changing winds,
chasing the smoldering gold
from the meadow;
in the slow waltz of leaves,
I feel scarlet
rush the roots of trees
and blaze the hawthorn's
leaving the valley
flushed and thriving,
waiting for November...
Hakuna MatataHakuna Matata in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
no cares in this world
sing hakuna matata
and just fly away
FaithFaith in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the faith of a child
complete trust in purest form
has no boundaries
Let the World Fade AwayLet the World Fade Away in Free Verse More Like This
In a world of turmoil and madness
We have been fighting long enough
Let this be the gentle thing
The sweet thing
The wonderful moment
Of finally being with you
Let worries vanish
When you take my hand
Let your concerns disappear
In your vivid eyes
Let the world fade away
When we're together
Would you let me love you forever?
Let the world fade away
Bury the ButterflyWhere shall we bury the butterfly?Bury the Butterfly in Free Verse More Like This
It died on it's birth in the web of it's lies
But we shall bury it
Slow by the hours
(What hours? What's time?)
Bury it by the sunflowers
Those flowers of mine
By the shadows
(Yes, by the shadows)
Don't let the crows
Bury the butterfly
The crows with their feathers
(Their feathers are falling)
They can't find the cat
The little cat
Empty and sad
(The little black cat?)
She's gone but she's here
And she's purring
She wants to help bury it
Bury the butterfly
Where shall we bury him?
Bury the butterfly.
Pertinacious"Why are you so stubborn?"Pertinacious in Short Stories More Like This
Aelita sighed, smiling wryly, and twisted a screw into place. "Because I'm always right, of course," she replied, continue a banter the two geniuses had been going for a while. Standing back, she put her hands on her hips and surveyed her creation. "There. Jeremie, what do you think?"
Jeremie turned slightly from bending his own creation and raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you're always right." Aelita made a face at him, and he grinned. "It's interesting," he told her vaguely, and turned back around.
Jeremie nodded, and Aelita let out an annoyed huff of breath. "Fine then, Mr. Pertinacious."
"Takes one to know one." Now Jeremie stood up slowly, wincing when his back cracked. "Now. You're turn, Aelita. What do you think?"
"Interesting," she replied, smirking at him when he pretended to glare at her. "Mine'll win anyway."
JEremie raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you think so?" He eyed the battle robot she had been working on. "N
Silly?It's silly, I know.Silly? in Free Verse More Like This
We're miles apart
I should be used to this
But damnit I miss you
It's stupid, I realize
It was only a few days
But how I wish
We could go back to it
It's dumb, I know
It was one evening
But I still feel guilty
I should've stayed
And I'm sorry I didn't.
It's foolish, I understand
all I can think about
Is those days.
Being with you.
It's dumb, I know.
But damnit, I miss you.
The SeaBy the seaThe Sea in Free Verse More Like This
By the beautiful
My toes in the stones and shells and sand
Listening to the breathing of the water
will be powerful enough
To knock us down
They will only pull us closer
They do already
That beautiful sea
I'll sit and dream of you
I'll lay by the sea
And dream of the days with you
By the beautiful sea
FearAm I really an adult now?Fear in Free Verse More Like This
Or is it all just a play?
I'm old enough
I should know enough
But what if time
I couldn't handle it
Being an adult
Now, years later
can I do this?
Am I better now?
Or am I still that clingy
People offer hands
And I am grateful
But I am scared
Can I be helped?
This attention disorder
Blocking my mind
If they help me
Does that mean I'm being lazy?
Will I be dependent again?
Still a child, needing help?
Or will I be grown up
I don't know
And I'm scared
State of BeingI'm very confusedState of Being in Free Verse More Like This
It's a state of being for me
Please understand that
So please believe that
I fail a lot
I'm slow, I get it
But please believe that
if you're patient
Wait one more minute
Just a few more seconds
Just let me catch up
I'm old enough now
I'm not a child
I can do this.
Why don't you believe that?
I really am trying.
Osculator"No. No. Just...no!"Osculator in Short Stories More Like This
"Come on, Princess, don't be a sore loser!"
"Sore? Sore?! You'll be sore Odd Della-Roberra when I get through with you- Stop sniggering, Ulrich!"
Rubbing his forehead, Jeremie strode across the school grounds to where four other students stood in a ragged circle. They were louder than usual, he noticed, and raised his eyebrows. Aelita looked furious, while Odd and Ulrich looked torn between hilarity and fear. Yumi, smiling slightly, hung back, shaking her head.
"I'm afraid to ask," he announced, then took a step back when Aelita rounded on him.
"Finally! Jeremie! A sane person." She waved her hand back in the vague direction of Odd and Ulrich. "These two...idiots, are trying to get me to be the local osculator for some stupid fair on Friday."
"She lost a bet!" Odd grinned widely. "In Lyoko, you remember!" When Aelita glared at him, he winced, then grinned wider.
"Ah..." Nonplussed, Jeremie looked from one to the other. "What bet?"
"Either way, being in t
Give Me A MapSometimesGive Me A Map in Free Verse More Like This
More and more now
I wish I had a map.
In the darkness
of the morning
I want to turn around and drive in a different direction
Drive towards you
All those miles
Leaving behind everything else
And coming to find you
It would take days
I'd get lost
You're the map reader
You wouldn't get lost
But I want to come and find you this time
Be with you in your world
And let the rest of the world fade away
Even if I get lost
I'm lost without you
I'll get a map.
To where you are.
lies I tell myself, stillIf you stood before melies I tell myself, still in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
I would cry and walk away
I would say nothing now.
Theres nothing I can say.
All my words have fallen
into darkness, into pain
I brought upon myself.
I hope youre not the same.
I have paid the price for my
mistakes, and now somehow
found a way to just go on.
But I am nothing now.
Just a faded shadow of some
passing bad illusion
that you tore down.
I hope youve found
a better way.
I don't owe you anymoreWhere am I what am I doinI don't owe you anymore in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Where am I what am I doin
Where am I what am I doin
I dont know you any more
Who am I where am I goin
Who am I where am I goin
Who am I where am I goin
I dont know you any more
What am I who am I foolin
What am I who am I foolin
What am I who am I foolin
I dont know you any more
Love can be everlasting
Love can be cold and plastic
Love me in lies and violence
I cant find you any more
Where have you gone without me
Why have you come to doubt me
What will you do about me
When Im lying on the floor?
Tell me your troubles daily
It was no trouble, baby
Dont be takin the trouble to save me
If you wont tell me what for.
I rise from my indecision
From your memory like a prison
And I face you with false derision
I still love you like before
I will leave you in freedom fallen
Take the road youve chosen, darlin
Cause I hear my destiny calling
I dont owe you any more.
NaPo 11 Spring AgainRain is goneNaPo 11 Spring Again in Free Verse More Like This
blue sky shining down
on dampened ground
to mating songs
of birds whose names I don't remember
I remember you
consequences of loyaltyBetrayed for false betrayal,consequences of loyalty in Open More Like This
I have become gaurded
let go of my spontaneous honesty and openness
my sharing of truth without fear of consequence.
I haven't been cured of my disloyalty
embedded it deeper in the code:
I'm like a rattlesnake hidding behind a hamster
when I get hungry I'll swollow the hamster whole
and sink my fangs into you again.
"but you knew what I was when you picked me up"
I was better before you tried to tame me
no wonder I...
Napo 16.1 and 16.2 clichesthe first of these was inspired by the thought , as I walked to class on a beautiful spring day after a few weeks of grey rain, that I'd like to write a Napo poem about spring. But spring is in itself, like love, a cliche.Napo 16.1 and 16.2 cliches in Free Verse More Like This
The second poem was inspired by the first poem
Cliché me into life again
I want to feel your languid rays of sunshine
Penetrate my winter-white skin
Plant my soul
With your seminal seeds of new life.
Springing to life
In April rain
Like tears of joy
I love clichés.
still noble beneath dust.
Nano poem 8 day 5 birdsongI rememberNano poem 8 day 5 birdsong in Free Verse More Like This
a moment of total collapse.
a grassy hill behind a church
and the voice of a bird
liquid silver, I heard
Never before or since, perhaps
Alive in a Shangri-La otherworld
breaking the veil for a moment,
NaPo 3 Eisenhower Hallhere behind the tinted glassNaPo 3 Eisenhower Hall in Free Verse More Like This
I watch the world go by
alone and out of time
Im like a message in a bottle
and this river now shall toss me
out to sea
step out to see what shore I land on
sure the sand on every hand will bring me comfort
remind me of the desert land
that I abandoned
but the river only flows one way
and the letter once unfurled is out forever
so I run for cover in another
here behind this tinted glass
I watch the world go by.
EquanoxEquinoxEquanox in Free Verse More Like This
Window screens pixilate the old round wires of my tomato cages into squares and lines.
The birds are lost in darkness, yet still fly.
Why am I sitting here, in the dusk of winter, staring at the snow, and flying shadows?
--Contemplating dream catchers those pixilated squares could once become?
Unsent, with helplessness?
Light a candle---
Make of it what you will, cake perhaps?
Time for moving on?
The summer hasn't faded. It lurks, hiding stealthily under myriad flakes each one unique, which I have failed to photograph.
Grab winter by the wings and hold it close until the warmth of you body melts the ice in its veins, and the rainbows sparkle through diamond shards.
Into the white light of snow-blindness seeking the Paragangian-dark at the end of the tunnel.
The shadows of snowbirds are brighter than the birds themselves.
.and then .
My thoughts break like the wires of old tomato cages, pixilated,
Like pond-ice shattering, shining; like diamonds
non napo jason Heathcliff poemsometimes the time just slides awaynon napo jason Heathcliff poem in Open More Like This
into grey-blue mist and emptiness
like Jason's eyes shattering unseen
but you are me and I am you
you don't exist
perhaps you never will.
why I love bubblesI have been blowing bubbles. The kind you buy in a little plastic bottle full of sticky water-like stuff with a tool called a wand my bubble wand is yellow, by the way The wand has a toothed ring on one end which you dip into the liquid, and hold in front of your lips and blow, and then if you dont blow too hard or fast or not hard enough or in the wrong direction, soap bubbles fly into the air.why I love bubbles in Academic Essays More Like This
This is an activity which is generally associated with children: children blow bubbles, or parents blow bubbles for children to pop. I am very easily entertained with simple things like this, however, so I love blowing bubbles. I usually fail on the first try, and then I remember how, and If I blow slow I can make big bubbles, and if I blow fast I can make lots of little bubbles.
In most things, I dont buy the brand name but in bubble solution, --which I call bubble stuff-- I get the good stuff .its still
Triunghi amorosAzi s-a îndrăgostit de Mâine. Fără ca măcar să-l vadă. S-a îndrăgostit auzind doar ceea ce s-a spus despre el: "mâine va fi mai bine ca azi". Toată lumea spune lucrul ăsta. Aşa că Azi credea ca Mâine e un cavaler bun şi curajos cu armură strălucitoare.Triunghi amoros in Emotional More Like This
Mâine, Mâine, Mâine
Se gândea doar la el.Oare cum arată? Oare o să o iubească? Oare o să îl vadă? Asta se întreba Azi în fiecare zi. Şi întreba pe fiecare dacă l-au văzut pe Mâine. Toţi răspundeau că îl văd în fiecare zi. Atunci ea de ce nu-l putea vedea? Şi în toată goana ei după Mâine nu-l putea vedea pe Ieri.
Ieri o iubea pe Azi. Toată lumea spunea: "azi e mai bine ca ieri". Asta înseamnă că Azi era minunată. Şi încerca în fiecare zi să-i atragă ate
Monologul ploiiAi venit şi tu în sfârşit! Ce ţi-a luat atât? De şase ori ţi-am bătut în geam. N-ai văzut c-a anunţat şi la televizor că vin? În fine... Lasă asta. Zi-mi mai bine, de ce ai ieşit cu umbrela asta galbenă? N-am vorbit noi mereu de la egal la egal? Hai, fă-mi pe plac şi închide-o. Măcar de era albastră, nu de alta dar galbenul îmi aminteşte de Soare. Şi ştii şi tu prea bine că nu ne înţelegem. Şi acum îmi poartă pică pentru că am divorţat. Dar ce? E vina mea că el pleca întotdeauna seara de acasă? Mă săturasem să iau mereu cina singură şi să tremur noaptea de frig şi singurătate. E clar că avea ceva de ascuns de lipsea mereu, nu m-aş fi mirat să aflu că mă înşela cu cine ştie ce stea. Păcat de mine, erau mul&Monologul ploii in Emotional More Like This
Noi.O să încep prin a-ţi spune că nu mi-am dorit nici măcar o secundă asta... Nu spune că am avut de ales pentru că nu e aşa. Nu ştiu dacă eu m-am afundat în asta sau tu ai început să mă îngropi în tine de vie, dar în fond ce mai contează? Tot la acelaşi lucru vom ajunge. Sunt plină de tine până la gât. Mi-ai intrat în pantofi şi pe sub haine. Te-ai lipit de pielea mea şi nu te mai pot da jos. Sau nu vreau? Te agăţi de mine şi mă zgârii. Iar apoi îmi vindeci rănile. După care îmi faci altele. Şi tot aşa. Iar acum cuvintele se sufocă din cauza ta, începi să-mi curgi printre buze şi eu nu pot să respir. Mi-ai intrat în ochi, în urechi, în gură şi în nas. Acum totul arată, sună, gustă şi miroase ca tine. O să mă opresc aicNoi. in Emotional More Like This
Ne mintim.O bancă. Din când în când mă aşez pe ea, acolo unde mă aşteaptă amintirile. Mă întreabă "Dar el? El cum mai e?". Ce aş putea să le spun? Că nu ştiu? Că nu ştiu nimic de tine? Ce aş putea să le spun? În niciun caz adevărul. Aşa că le mint. Le spun că eşti bine. Că zâmbeşti, că eşti fericit. Şi cine ştie... poate aşa şi e, nu? Apoi le spun că le transmiţi salutări şi că le promiţi că le vei vizita mai des. Şi ele surâd trist. Nu pot să mă creadă. Nici măcar eu nu mă cred.Ne mintim. in Emotional More Like This
Şi apoi ele mă întreabă "Dar tu? Tu cum mai eşti?". Ce aş putea să le spun? Că nici eu nu ştiu? Că dacă nu ar fi să simt cum fluturii flămânzi de tine se zbat în mine aş crede că sunt complet goa
Scrisoare catre Alex IAlex, stau aici şi încerc să-ţi scriu, dar sfârşesc prin a desena jumătăţi de inimi, sferturi de petale şi suflete întregi. Deşi sufletele sunt mai mereu fărâmiţate. După ce le desenez, le colorez în negru. De ce? N-am idee. Închid ochii şi iau la întâmplare una din cariocile de pe masă. Mereu se nimereşte negru. Şi colorez în grabă. Depăşesc liniile. Mă enervez. Tai de şase ori după care mototolesc foaia. Privesc spre coşul de gunoi. "Dacă nimeresc, o să fie bine". N-am ratat niciodată. Şi totuşi, de ce nu e bine? Când ieri era? Când n-am pierdut nimic de ieri până azi? Când singurul lucru care s-a schimbat este numărul de bătăi de inimi?Scrisoare catre Alex I in Letters More Like This
Cred că mi-e dor să mă joc. Vreau să mă joc de-a v-aţi ascunselea cu florile şi restul lumii
FerestreCasa ei nu avea ferestre. Nimeni nu ştie dacă a avut vreodată. Se zvonea că ea însăşi construise casa în felul ăsta. Nimeni nu o mai văzuse de luni de zile, sau erau ani? Au şi uitat cum arăta. De multe ori au încercat să intre în casă dar de fiecare dată uşa era încuiată. Aşa că au renunţat la idee. Cu timpul nici măcar nu le-a mai păsat.Ferestre in Emotional More Like This
Toata lumea uitase de ea în afară de el. În fiecare zi dădea târcoale casei şi se oprea încercând să audă măcar un sunet. Dar era doar tăcere. Într-o zi însă a auzit cum râsul ei s-a spart de podeaua rece. Trăia. A bătut timid la uşă.
- Cine e? întrebă ea.
- Nimeni, răspunse el.
- Şi ce vrei?
Şi în acel moment uşa s-a deschis pentru prima dată în ultimii ani. El a intrat
2219:38.22 in Emotional More Like This
22 de minute şi atât. Atât am să-l mai aştept. După, o să plec şi o să încerc să nu mă uit înapoi. Oamenii trec şi se uită lung la mine. Am rochia pătată şi pielea murdară. Văd în privirea lor cum se întreabă pe cine aştept. Dar ce rost are să le spun? Oricum nu le-ar păsa. Sunt doar curioşi şi ipocriţi.
Aştept de prea multă vreme...Mi-e teamă să mă uit la ceas, mi-e teamă că mai e prea puţin timp. Poate ar fi fost mai bine să plec...dar la cât am aşteptat ce mai contează 22 de minute în plus?
E frig şi frunzele cad. Cândva am fost şi eu o frunză. La cum arăt acum ştiu că nu s-ar zice. Acum nu mai sunt nimic. M-am uscat şi tălpile lui reci m-au călcat de atâtea ori încât m-au strivit. Iar vântul, care
Basme ModerneDe când sunt micăBasme Moderne in Free Verse More Like This
scotocesc în fiecare seară
în coşul de gunoi
după un alt
care să-mi spună povestea lui,
pentru că adevăratele basme
nu sunt scrise de fraţii Grimm
ci de florile respinse,
ţigările fumate până la filtru
şi scrisorile care nu ajung
Din când în când,
îmi găsesc din greşeală
sub coaja unei banane,
prefăcându-se că se înveleşte
Şi atunci ascult
cel mai frumos basm din lume,
căci deşi pare că se termină
cu fiecare prinţ care pleacă
înainte să salveze prinţesa,
ea învinge singură zmeii,
nu doarme mai mult de şase ore pe noapte,
mănâncă doar mere verzi
şi nu-şi pierde niciodată
în mâinile altora.
SaHai să fim străini din nou!Sa in Emotional More Like This
Să ne întâlnim iar pentru prima dată, de preferat în acelaşi loc ca atunci. Să schimbăm puţin scenariul de data asta. Şi numele, dacă ajută. Să ne zâmbim pentru prima dată din colţuri diferite ale camerei. Să ne întindem mâna printre ceilalţi oameni ca să facem cunoştinţă. La atingerea mâinii mele să ţi se pară cunoscută pielea asta rece. Să îţi treacă prin cap că ne cunoaştem, dar că am uitat amândoi. Să mă întrebi dacă ne-am mai văzut. Să-ţi zâmbesc şi să-ţi spun că ne-am privit, fără să ne vorbim, în fiecare zi prin ochii altor oameni. Apoi să ieşim afară. Să cadă frunzele fără să se lovească. Să bată vântul fără s
Decat o toamna...Spui că îţi place rochia mea murdarăDecat o toamna... in Free Verse More Like This
căci vorbeşte despre mine,
şi frunzele de afară.
Şi acum că zăpada începe să cadă
rochia mea devine albă,
îţi par ştearsă şi fadă
Noi n-am dansat decât o toamnă...
time withers (but i will not break)they say time withers, but that we would never bend. now, i'm not so sure. friendship once forged in fire is growing weak at the base and arthritic at the joints. love cast in steel is now rusted and stained, dissolving at the mere sight of the sun. i trusted you. i did. i wore my heart on my sleeve and bled my tongue from my mouth just to show you the truth of the matter. i swallowed the guilt until it threatened to chew away at the strings holding me up; until i woke up screaming, my lungs giving out in protest as i writhed between cotton sheets, teeth biting the pillow to suppress the next anguished cry threatening to rip from my throat. i did this, for us, for the friendship, for the future we all saw sitting on magnolia porches.time withers (but i will not break) in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i was willing to take the thorn into my sides, take the blame upon my shoulders, hold the world between hands just to let this dream come true. but no longer. i am not this savage beast that you see when you look at me; i am not this weathered and dying tr
secondhand inspiration.i am more than a girl with dirty hair and burned fingertips.secondhand inspiration. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i am more than the insecurities that pile up and fog my mirror, and more than the cowardice i write about so lovingly on my fractured clavicle. i am not just this freckled skin and i am not these cramping feet that twitch under mahogany desks. i am not the girl that sits in the corner and allows the world to draw a box around me, and i am not the girl to sit and allow the world to thieve my words and plant them in their own private gardens.
i have my poems in a headlock and i am holding them under water until they breathe inspiration again. i am chasing down shadows and demanding they give me my words back, demanding that they spit up what they've stolen from my ribcage as i slumber. i am not the world, but the world is me and i will not sit in quiet as it plunders the dream box at the back of my skull.
you see, these syllables that craft my spine and run through the unseen blue of my veins are not the same when they trip sec
singing of beauty.some sing that there is beauty in the breakdown, but i have learned in the heat of your palms that the true beauty is in the rebuilding after the fall. you found me a city burned to the ground and you exhaustively rebuilt all of my fallen skyscrapers. you did not mind the singing and the stinging eyes. you never faltered at the quakes that ran up the base of my spine to the tip of the city limits. you just moved with meticulous, tenacious, loving grace. you found me a forest cleared on a whim, an ocean polluted with the lies of the selfish, a sky darkened with the ache of a thousand breaks.singing of beauty. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you found me ugly, and still, you found me.
so, i do not sing of beauty in the falling, though i have seen the poetry in cracking ribs and bleeding knees. i do not sing of the beauty of salt-encrusted cheeks and nail-bitten lips. i stand in the heat of your embrace and sing of the sun that rises on each war-demolished countryside. i sing of the light that washes over every blood-soaked ba
dare to dance the flame.i'm not the kind of girl you'll be able to forget about in a moment.dare to dance the flame. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i'm the kind that'll stick like a burr and breathe ice down your veins, but just wait because my lips will melt the frost in a moment. i'm the kind of girl that'll sneak into your system like nicotine so you'll keep asking for just a little bigger sip each time, just one more bottle, just one more drag [just one more, one more].
i'm a lie in the making and an addiction brewing in the spaces between your bones. i'm terribly atrocious and wonderfully divine and you'll hate me almost as much as you don't. i won't be part of your memory, because i'll flood it until i'm all that's there. i'll steal your lungs and give you sips of my own breath and promise you it's sweeter. i'll bite your bottom lip with laughing eyes and wipe away the blood precipitation with something that looks like sympathy but feels just like lust.
[you'll never know which, but you'll keep fighting because you're dying to know.]
i'm a storm that
it won't, i know that.Let me tell you a story. Let me paint you a picture.it won't, i know that. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It’s dark and I’m alone and the wind is howling and once upon a time, I might have made this sound poetic. I’m crying, but it’s not pretty. I’m crying and my nose is red and my hands are shaking and the cigarette is limp between my scarred, calloused fingers. I once might have made this sound pretty. I might have made it sound desirable. Did you want a high? All you had to do was touch my skin, to feel your way down my sweat-slicked hips. Did you want to get buzzed? You just had to soak in the passion like alcohol and let your mind go wild. I used to have nothing but chaos to offer. Now I just have memories – do you want to take them?
But you won’t. I know that. I paid the price and life paid me. Whatever I once had is gone and it’s been replaced with this shaking emptiness. I can no longer get drunk. I just get sad. I sit at broken pianos and think about the music they used to make, li
i begin and end with you.How do you go about explaining love to someone who has never felt it? How do you put into words the sweetness of the first kiss or the bitterness of the first goodbye or the hundred pinpricks of emotion you feel each and every time lip parts lip? If I were to try, I wouldn't start with the first embrace or the first touch or the first time your tongue swept the top of your mouth and you breathed my name. I wouldn't start with the first time nail bit into hip or teeth into shoulder or the first time you cried my name and I cried yours. I wouldn't talk about the first time that we held hands under the branches of the willow, limbs interlaced as we fell asleep with Whitman on my breast. I wouldn't even talk about the time you slipped platinum around my finger and I cried on a sunny October afternoon.i begin and end with you. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Instead, I would talk about the first time you taught me something. I would talk about how we were standing in wintery midnight air and how you put your hand on the small of my back--as i
i'm choking.i am sitting with smoking nerves andi'm choking. in Free Verse More Like This
frayed circuit wires, everything i don't
know knotting together for me to choke
if there is a door, i can't find it.
if there is an answer, i'm unaware.
instead i am falling to my knees and
crawling under the smoke, eyes watering
and knuckles bleeding. no closer to the end
than when i had begun.
if i had the courage, i'd crack open your ribs
and get the answer for myself. if i was brave,
i'd simply reach over and pinch the truth from
or i'd just tie my heart to the railroad tracks
and wait for you to save it. wait for you
to cradle it and whisper that the time for
pinched nerves and scraped knees is over.
but i am confused and cowardly, clutching
my chest, palms feebly protecting the only
thing i have left to defend. the only thing i
have left worth guarding.
and the thing that scares me most is not that
you might hurt me. it's not that i might end
up with a scar or a burn or a weeping laceration.
the thing that has me trembling wit
Inexhaustible.Sometimes, I long for the breath of sorrow that once guided me.Inexhaustible. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
No longer is the twisting wind and the gnashing teeth of mourning cries guiding my fingers to my pen and my heart to the beat. No longer does my spine twist at dusk tying upon itself as my hands press against the small of my back, pushing my pelvis forward as I arch back, back, back into the great beyond of darkness and light. No longer is my sleep punctuated with awakeness and my days punctuated with sleep. I no longer am curled into the shadow of myself and plucking words from heartstrings that have long since bled dry.
Still, on nights where the moon is hollowed against the backdrop of the sky (nights where the sky is poised like a dagger upon the earth) I hunger for the sorrow that one drove me forward. I hunger for the aching and twisting pain that had pricked my heels until they bled into the cracks and calluses the never-ending fear of myself and the never-ending thirst for tomorrow. I thirst for the n
my wild and reckless heart.You know what I love? I love my heart—oh, how I love my wild and reckless heart.my wild and reckless heart. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Because my heart is not a beautiful one nor a pure one nor one to inspire sonnets. But it is strong. It is scarred. My heart is ever-thirsting; it yearns for beauty and sunrises and shooting star wishes and things that it cannot comprehend. My heart has tremors that rock it like earthquakes; it twists and shakes and tightens in ways that cannot ever be understood. It is not satisfied with the now nor yesterday and, in truth, it does not even grow fat and happy on the promise of tomorrow. It is forever in a state of want.
And I refuse to believe that is not okay. I love the urgent press of my pulse that nips at my heels and forces me to dance faster and wilder; I love the thump-thump-thump of that desire and the hold-me-tighter whisper that rips from between clenched teeth. I love the way my heart has flung me over cliffs and expected me to swim—and I love it still when I washed up on the beach
burn this mirror.this is the point i write a hook loud enough for you to hear it. i craft the words out of cells and marrow and spill them on the page in the right numerical order; hit just the right notes in time to bleed me dry. i write the truth in the harsh light under the kitchen sink right before i throw it down the garbage disposal where it belongs. i can't turn from the mirror on this white sheet of paper, and i can't shatter the reflection spewing from the ink of my pen. i can close my eyes and scream and cower in the corner and over the shrillness of my voice and under the shadow of my blindness, i will still be confronted with the truth of myself. i cannot run from my demons when they are what i am.burn this mirror. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
the truth is i will bring you the highest of your highs and the lowest of your lows. i will catapult you through the atmosphere and then be the anchor that drops your heart through the wood-plank-floor. i am a bottle marked antidote filled to the brim with the latest poison. i have the cure on my
On SomethingMinutes pass like hours in moments like this,On Something in Concrete Poetry More Like This
a damned shame, that;
Where pain should leave, and come and go,
as by the drop of a hat.
The mind, in clouds both light and dark,
finds itself in madness;
The soul, in feelings both dull and stark,
finds dreaming endless sadness.
How cold the world would seem,
whilst heartbeats like war drums teem.
How wretched is the cry,
of whom in the silence die.
And death can not afford,
a single kindly ward.
Over body, soul and mind,
the bread is b
The Ballad Of Two ThoughtsWhat do I want?The Ballad Of Two Thoughts in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Am I able to obtain it,
or is this just a taunt?
Do I do this?
It's what I desire,
but is it right's antithesis?
Do I want flesh,
or do I want love?
Can I, this mistake refresh?
The rhythm is broken
with it, the rhyme,
and before I've spoken,
I should inquire of the time.
For life is a series,
of fluid movement,
there's a time for "flee"s,
but is this the moment?
I am unsure,
I am a wavering one,
through this sin I'd tour,
I need to leave, run.
This is not the time,
and this is not the place,
It'd not be so sublime,
when it and I come face,
is there any difference?
why such indifference?
I am not one way,
I am not the other,
what then can I say,
why even bother.
Your mind was made far before mine.
The Ballad Of TheodoreHis beard is bright red,The Ballad Of Theodore in Concrete Poetry More Like This
his robes, stark white,
Upon a sled pulled by gators,
he makes his flight,
about him, not much is said,
for he's a curious sight,
his visage has craters,
and his eyes are not bright.
His nose is bulbous,
his face is wrinkly,
on north pole street he lives,
in Florida, distinctly,
He is not very pompous,
which is displayed succinctly,
by how very little he gives;
he values himself not greatly.
His name is not saint,
nor santa or father,
but merely Theodore,
Nick's younger brother,
for long ago Nick's life had from him been drain't,
and from the clutches of death, none could him bother,
so in, they called theodore,
the less commanding other.
And being that he, a miserly man,
does not enjoy the yule time cheer,
Theodore Claus gives but five gifts,
once every year,
one he gives to the closest he can,
one he gives to the one with most fear,
two he gives to whomever's name sifts,
from many whom have none to call dear.
One present yet,
goes out in earnest seeking,
Duality DualityDuality in Concrete Poetry More Like This
There are two faces beneath the skin,
one for honoring an one for sin.
Neither can lose and neither can win,
but one shall frown and the other, grin.
If at the end you should find,
deep thoughts still thinking within your mind;
then you will see which one does grin,
an shine or darken the world we're in.
Telle Est La VieI heard the voice of antiquity singing,Telle Est La Vie in Concrete Poetry More Like This
so clear, bright, crisp and beautifully ringing,
the voice of antiquity, so splendorously singing,
across the street in the cold dark night.
I had set out in darkness for walking,
an abstract ideal I was simply stalking,
when the voice of antiquity went singing,
as I stood beneath a bright street light.
And it sang to me,
"telle est la vie,
telle est la vie,
tu, ab astris,
telle est la vie,
telle est la vie,
et tu, omniam tetram,
And a mist swiftly faded,
faded all away,
leaving naught but feelings jaded,
those somber things that stay,
and as through the dark I waded,
to my home, through the fray,
an ancient song was sing,
"telle est la vie,
telle est la vie,
tu, ab astris,
telle est la vie,
telle est la vie,
et tu, omniam tetram,
So I returned to my home,
and dreamt a dream's poem,
of dark shifting nights in rome,
oh sweet forgotten home...
MemoriesThe Bleeding Heart,Memories in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Rung dry upon your hands,
Hollow shadows remain,
The arrested soul,
Tiring out its youth,
Waning in innocence,
The Philosophic Vein,
A root in sorrow's ground,
serves a bitter mem'ry
Shades of GreatnessShades of GreatnessShades of Greatness in Concrete Poetry More Like This
We are shadows,
finding solace in the candle,
flickering flames cast us
so we turn to the candle and bow.
We are the shadows,
but what has lit this candle?
Why is it that it would cast us?
To what should we bow?
We are shadows,
a product of something larger than the candle,
a thing far greater has cast us,
to it alone we should bow.
Divine ComedyDivine,Divine Comedy in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Comedy, that is,
So cruel I laughed,
But really its,
Cherishing The RainCherishing The RainCherishing The Rain in Concrete Poetry More Like This
Those who can not cry, cherish the rain,
For in its showers, we remain sane,
And mourning tears, can we feign.
For us who go from palace to street drain,
Cherish the rain,
Cherish the rain.
Regret Has Still Got ItRegret Has Still Got ItRegret Has Still Got It in Concrete Poetry More Like This
So much pain two people make,
So much fuss,
For heaven's sake,
Its lonely without friendship,
How much caused pain does it take,
To make your heartache,
I've left you,
You've left me,
and its only afterwards that I could see,
many kinds of love, it could be,
between you, and me.
letters for dadyou’ve taught me a lot of things.letters for dad in Free Verse More Like This
like how to not make promises
you can’t keep, because
one day all of those words
that have fallen off your lips
the same way people fall
when they’ve hurt too much
will one day be as tangible as those
orphans in all of those novels
you read as a kid, always having
a place to stay
but no home to return to.
but i am writing this poem to tell you
i am not a hero of any novel,
and i remember every single one of them.
like how you said you would use your day off
when i was in the seventh grade
and go fishing.
when my brother asked why
you hadn’t woken at three in the afternoon
i just told him you have forgotten
like you forget a lot of things
because i wanted that to be true.
i remember in the eleventh grade
i told you to go fuck yourself
and go die in a ditch
because you made me feel
like i was nothing
and i wanted to make you feel
like less than nothing, because
you taught me
power is about making others powerless,
about telling ot
maresometimes i feel likemare in Free Verse More Like This
i want to fly
but i know when i die
i'll wake up
Little Red's StarsLittle Red scrubbed until her knuckles bled,Little Red's Stars in Concrete Poetry More Like This
her knees grew raw and her cheeks turned red.
"Day in and day out," by the Stars she was told,
"Work hard, and you will soon be worth your weight in gold."
So she did: she worked day in and day out,
in fog, in water, in rain and in drought,
her lips the only part of her that did not move
for she knew the Stars would disapprove.
The villagers always stopped to ask her when she bled:
"Why do you not speak at all, Little Red?
Move me like you move the ground, wade the waters,
so we may leave an example to all our daughters."
She was born with a voice, you see:
one that could give even fire a spark, they would decree--
part the sea, make the earth drum under her taught feet--
yet, they could not figure out why she would not speak.
She only looked down and returned to her work, no doubt,
for everyday they knew she worked day in and day out--
from five in the morning to five in the evening,
to when her hands and knees would have no feeling.
bostonsoon we will becomeboston in Free Verse More Like This
a part of these tall buildings
and we will be without bone
and without clothes
and be nothing but the concrete
and the beds
that make these very city people alive.
i will be a portrait
that curls with you gray
under the blood
of orange and red
when your eyes set
with the fall of day.
i will be the cradle
of the constellations
that freckle your face
a brown wisp that marks
the deepest september.
i will be the loneliness
that marks your two a.m. nights
a cold that comes
even in the spring
and you will wake with
your only memory.
and i will be the darkness
that takes to the golden
of your eyes
when you finally open them
and hold you to me
boneless and naked
in the cusp of my skyline
only to strike you down
from the sun
into the concrete
of our beds.
tomorrowbreathing.tomorrow in Free Verse More Like This
binding ropes, pointed sheets
and careful skies- i have all the oceans,
new days, richest nights and brightest
when i have the feeling
of the roughest rocks
under the soles of my feet-
the wood and splinters in my toes,
the cold metal to my arms,
the most frozen of fingers
pressed to my back.
arms are poison when they're numb;
ever is different when you can feel.
leaning, i have the air against my skin,
the deepest of skies breathing down my neck,
the poison of cradling eyes.
maybe being human is knowing how to feel alive;
maybe being human is knowing when to be alive.
black and white, knight eyes, shivers
seeking home in my skin-
breathing, i have everything-
even with the trains crashing
in my chest, black seeking
the corners of my eyes
and a slow, dancing conscious,
like magic, we don't only have tomorrow -
we seek tomorrow.
hollowfalling in lovehollow in Free Verse More Like This
is like plucking ribs, and
each time you've fallen
you're another bone closer
to cardiac arrest
virginswhen i asked youvirgins in Free Verse More Like This
you told me you died when you first had sex,
which i thought was funny,
until you asked me how many bodies i had.
breathing when you can't breathei am warm butbreathing when you can't breathe in Free Verse More Like This
i think i'm naked and my clothes are at my feet
like colored, cotton, dead skin, and my breath is there, but not,
in that sick way where i know i can breath but i can't, and i feel
like i may suffocate and i will break in the same way cans do
when all their contents are sucked out and they are crushed,
in that same way you drown in the hands of billowing water, below ice,
and it's just there, i think, my breath, hanging at the mouth,
just dangling off my lips by the thread of my lungs,
almost as useless as air without oxygen,
and i am that dead little girl again, a doll,
waiting at the foot of the bed
with a wrangled look in her eyes--
i repeat, monotone, monotonous, i repeat,
though i think i am confused because suddenly, for a minute and only a minute,
i am not dead, not a doll, though more than ever i think i want to die,
and i am only a girl, and i don't speak, and i am as dead as autumn,
a coming before winter, a warning, a waiting to your bones, sex bones,
When you demand it.When I was a little girlWhen you demand it. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
my mother used to tell me
"you will not understand
the magnitude of what you've said
until you've said it."
And, as promised,
I have come to tell you: I've said it.
I have come to tell you
I felt the vibrato
coax my deepest bones:
an immortal vex, a cage
of everything alive beneath my flesh;
the things that will stay alive
after everything alive in my body
has turned to ash.
I have come to tell you
I felt the magnitude build
in my chest like the flapping
of birds, dead things
I assumed would never
breathe life, that I would never
understand what it is like
to choke on their tiny bones
while I trip over my words.
I have come to tell you
these organs have pumped blood
more than they have ever before,
and I have, for once,
felt what it feels like to have life
in my veins- to have a fever when healthy,
to have ran miles while standing still.
I have come to tell you
my voice has boomed more than
it has ever before, like that storm
that was brewing deep in my lungs
4/3/14your words4/3/14 in Free Verse More Like This
and as endearing as
the silence after
nails on a chalkboard
and the voice
that only speaks
when you’re in bed.
your chest rises
like the snapping
of belts on skin,
your lungs compressing
like crushed soda cans——
and it sounds of red
a turning carousel,
like a multitude
to the edge
where they cling
you are no
you are as caged
as a bedframe
of dry bones
that falls over
and your knees
as sturdy and
as abiding as
Sick and TiredSick and Tired:Sick and Tired in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'm sick and tired of trying hard
I'm tired of slaving away.
I'm tired of doing everything
And just living day to day...
I'm tired of being a person
I'm tired of being me.
What happened to the past
Did I lose it out at sea?
I think I'm simply frustrated
These words I cannot string.
Is this the end of my poetry
Or the revival of a king?
"Will I reach the peak, or I will die here in ignominy"
-Chen Yuan Wen, 3rd May 2012
You Left Me StrongerYou Left Me Stronger:You Left Me Stronger in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Hey there, it's been awhile, do you remember me?
I guess you might not, since I wasn't very important to you.
You know, I spent so many days thinking about - what I did wrong
I questioned if maybe, I was at fault or if I was screwed up.
I thought a lot about the things you said...
The things that were my fault, my problems.
I took them to heart at first, but then I realised you were wrong.
I realised that you are selfish and ugly on the inside.
On the surface you pretended to care, but like a cancer;
You amputate someone the moment you think they've gone bad.
You hide from the rigours of life and only emerge like a parasite
When everything is good - when everything is fine and dandy.
I used to think that I was afraid of you leaving,
But now I know, that you've left me stronger than I was before.
You know, this was supposed to be an emotional whine; an emotional spill,
Maybe I was supposed to cry tears and beg you to come back, but you know wha
Sorry I'm A ManSorry I'm A Man:Sorry I'm A Man in Free Verse More Like This
He stands there naked
A blank-faced label
He is not an individual
He is exactly what you make him to be
The product of your misguided hate
The product of your personal prejudice
Caught blind and shackled
Voice stripped and throat cut
On knees and hands
He crawls beneath a slanderous hail
"Let they who are without sin, be the first to cast a stone"
Then you must all be innocent, unblackened and pure
Instead what I see
Is not angel wings and a white halo
Instead what I see
Is your silent profanity
Twisted obscene mask of humanity
Beneath the righteous sword of a figure of justice
Lies a rotting core of devil's teeth and black smoke
Crooked mirror of lies
"Guilty until proven innocent"
Is what I see in your eyes
He is not an individual
He is exactly what you make him to be
He is the monster, the abuser, the criminal and the pig
He is the violent, the drunk, the pervert and the enemy
Care not for the fact that he is a perso
Letting Go of YouLetting Go of You:Letting Go of You in Free Verse More Like This
You abandoned me in the past
without so much as a proper goodbye
One day you simply chose to walk out the door
and you never did come back...
I was angry then, hurting badly
I wondered if I was in some way inadequate
I wondered if you left because I am so easy to despise
and eventually my sorrow turned to anger
I wanted to become great
to show you that you made the wrong choice
to take my strength and throw it in your face
just so you would regret it
But then I saw how happy you were...
In the time we've been apart
You've made a new life for yourself
You've found someone who loves and treasures you
and upon seeing that, my anger faded...
Your smile, that which I fell in love with
is more radiant now than the morning sun
a gentle blush upon your fair cheeks
takes my breath away, just as it did so long ago
Of course, I don't hold any hope for us to be friends
I don't think that it would be appropriate for me to come back
but perhaps one day, if
The Sanguinary OfferingThe Sanguinary Offering:The Sanguinary Offering in Free Verse More Like This
We lay her down upon the altar
With chains to hold her hands and feet.
She will not stir and she will not speak;
Our eyes she will not meet...
This girl was made for a single purpose
She is here to serve in death.
A simple container of blood and flesh
Soon to be robbed of breath.
Our hands bear the ancient markings
Scars we open with trembling hands.
For the scent of our blood shall awaken him;
The sleeping lord of our land...
With heads pressed to the dirty floor
We cower in fear at the Raven's cry.
For the bird shall serve as the master's herald;
And none would dare to meet his eye!
Cold and lifeless, red with blood,
He stands among us as an angel sanguine.
His wings are coated in coal-like feathers,
Black as a banshee's scream...
'Bring me the girl,' he whispers darkly
As we scurry quickly to meet his command.
He cups her chin with slender fingers,
And her life he does demand...
She gives it freely, offering her neck
And he bites it with
My Eternal CurseMy Eternal Curse:My Eternal Curse in Free Verse More Like This
Since the time I was awakened,
From the dawn I lived and breathed.
I have always walked alone,
For I carry a dark disease.
No matter where I go,
No matter where I'm born.
Always it will reveal itself,
Always I am torn.
The moon will shine from cloudless heavens,
And soon the change will take it's place.
My fangs will grow and fur will sprout,
It is my deep and dark disgrace...
Silverback, they called me,
Bane of men and beast alike.
Knights and templar, each and all,
Sought to have me on a pike.
I've killed so many countless men,
They are faceless in my waking dreams.
Bones shall litter the depths of my lair,
As I wash the blood away in streams.
I seek not an end to my torment and pain,
But leave me now in peace to die.
Or come into the den of evil,
And your head will be the first to fly.
-Chen Yuan Wen, 26th February 2012
The Way We LiveThe Way We Live:The Way We Live in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
We all have our own little struggles;
Pushing on forward as the tragedies double.
A life led with pain and exhaustion too immense,
I'm pushing down walls as my muscles go tense.
But these are the words that you'll never hear me spit.
I'd never say I'm 'giving up' or if I should 'quit'.
I'm really freaking stupid so just tell it to my face,
And even then I'd never give up the right to race.
I'm like a lone arrow drawn and shot from a bow,
Blustered by the winds of all the things I don't know.
I'd never figure out if I'd reach the final mark,
But I know that I'd never lose my glowing inner spark.
And that's all it takes just to keep this body going.
With calloused hands in this ocean I'm still rowing
Searching for some land out amidst a sea of black;
A wandering gypsy bearing burdens on his back.
- Chen Yuan Wen, 14th January 2013
The Wolven PrideThe Wolven Pride:The Wolven Pride in Free Verse More Like This
We are hunted down as monsters;
By legends demonised.
We are feared as devilish creatures
In your pitiful human eyes...
But let me try and teach you
Of why we do not fear.
Because we actually enjoy it
When the hunters seek us here.
In the forest we are champions
In the night we rule the lands.
The hunter becomes the hunted
And dies by our hands.
Fangs will pierce his fragile throat
His flesh is torn to shreds.
It is the fear and scent of death
That the hunter truly dreads.
But we alone shall know no fear
For by the moon we shall be blessed.
Draped in Luna's loving embrace;
We bet our life with every breath.
That is who we are.
The wolven pride of werewolves
Is arrogance from afar.
Viewed by trembling creatures
Wetting themselves in fright.
We appear as snarling punishers
In the glory of the night.
Here in the deepest shadows
Where the light will never reach.
We silence the mouths of humans
For we tire of what they preach:
This is All About YouThis Is All About You:This is All About You in Free Verse More Like This
Most people giving you advice, might take a quote from a book
Most people giving you advice, have never had a real look
So from someone who's been watching, let me lay my heart bare
I want to show you all the special things, about the girl for whom I care
She always does her very best, no matter how tough the task
Even when she's struggling, she puts on a brave mask
She's always trying to learn new things, just for a chance to make you proud
She can be a little bit quiet, but I think that's better than being loud
She's not the very best in sports, I know she can be kind of a klutz
But she smiles and goes on anyway, now that takes a lot of guts...
She gets embarassed pretty easily and gets far too nervous to talk
But I know she'd like it if we held hands, whenever we went for a walk
She doesn't need a lot of pretty things, she just wants someone who cares
I bet she'd like to have someone, whom she knew would always be there
I remember when she tried to cook
She Dances With FireShe dances with fire, a dragon in tow.She Dances With Fire in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Twirling with flames; graceful and slow
She dances tonight, in a city of ash.
Her feet leaving footprints, where the sand will splash.
Quietly mourning, as time goes by;
Where once she beheld a home in her eyes...
Yet naught but the barest of bones remain,
And so she dances, to soothe the pain.