EveShe wore a galaxy on her rib-cage,Eve in Free Verse More Like This
settled high upon her breast,
when I kissed her I could taste it;
the currency of her success.
40810If only you were soulless.40810 in Free Verse More Like This
If you were mindless, blind,
you and I could make a beautiful disaster.
The press would write of our brief affair;
they'd paint me (the woman in red) as pathetic.
They will not consider how I need your love
or how it pains me so deeply to throw myself at you.
I will not be remembered as a poet warrior.
I'll be the eternal survivor no more.
All who think of me will shake their bowed heads
and tearfully remark;
If only you were soulless.
If you were mindless, blind,
You wouldn't have been such a bloody disaster.
SmudgeHe likes to see my mascara smudge;Smudge in Free Verse More Like This
he doesn't like me too beautiful,
he says it makes me difficult to live up to.
He doesn't like the way I describe him.
He says its frivolous and untruthful,
just because I see the beauty in his heart.
So he twists me backwards, trying to break me,
and I, helpless in his hands, bend at his will.
He wants me to see the bad in him - and I won't.
I won't and cannot, and he hates me for it,
with the slow burning that rivals his lust for me.
He wants to see my mascara smudge.
He can't believe that I love him, (I can relate).
He pushes me away and crawls under my skin
to chew on the transient strings of love.
I don't understand why he can't stop,
as I cower in the corner, trembling and afraid;
he wants me to know he's unlovable.
I am punished because I disagree;
because I only see the man that I love,
because he likes to see my mascara smudge.
United, We WriteHear me read itUnited, We Write in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
0hgravity, if by some divine fortune you should decide that today is the day you will fail me, then let me soar through the ChemicalSkyline. Grant me a-lovely-anxiety that raises a storm InTheStarryNightSky for me to riseandbe above all else. Let me soar.
How I long to be the frail rider-on-the-storm and not a victim of the RoamingShadow, Rogue-Of-The-Night, that BlackVelvetNightmare of my nights and days. I long
HuskI will donate the husk of my heartHusk in Free Verse More Like This
to a theatre company
so that it may finally obtain adoration
from an awed audience,
as a finely versed actor calls it Yorick,
or some such name.
It will be clenched under false fingers.
It will be polished and shine
and no longer rock emptily in my chest,
bemoaning the loss of you.
The shell, with the insides scooped
and served as sushi to gulls,
will finally recover and the aortic curves
will smile once more;
onto happy admirers who politely applaud,
and throw roses to the stage,
and never notice the decay at all.
BurntThat afternoon, under a burnt croatian sun,Burnt in Free Verse More Like This
we flaked our protective shells away
exposing the pink, raw vulnerability
that hid beneath our flanks and fortitude.
We delved systematically into nervousness
and chewed reflectively on our inner cheeks
as self conscious anxiety grew wildfire
across the too-bright landscape of our love.
The bones bleached and brittle, they broke,
and we could not stay together without them.
I don't regret opening my heart to the skies;
what I regret is never getting it back.
Cluck Thiswhen circadias begin to floatCluck This in Free Verse More Like This
upturned on a stagnated river
and you yourself are heart down
with your crest fallen about you
then look for the end in me.
when closing your eyes brings light
and the sun kisses carrion
with your heart clucking openly
about some misdeed, some old seed,
of misfortune from its past - then
then, look for the end in me.
Again,They call me Stitches,Again, in Free Verse More Like This
Because of my Frankenstein heart.
A rag-doll heart.
A broken down, beaten up heart.
They call me Stitches,
Because of my shattered wrists
And the lines of remorse
And my warped memories and mind.
They call me Stitches,
But it still surprises them time and time again,
When I come apart
At the seams.
FluxThere is always a beginning, and this is mine,Flux in Free Verse More Like This
I share it with you so you can break it with your kind words
and your unkind hearts.
Hush, as my ears bleed crimson, come let us taste.
It's time for a fairytale for silver haired princes - Time to forget.
Forget yourselves and hush, hush my children, Hush.
I stretched so hard my fingers splintered into stones,
The ruby fell amongst the cinders and still the feathers fall.
Wrenched from my limbs, the agony escapes.
A party favour of vertabrae tumble from my flesh
Violently cracking into place. New structures assemble.
I am evolutionary, I am yesterday's promise of a nightmare.
Unkind hearts, I am merely beginning.
Reptilian spines leech onto my skin and become me,
Don't you find it so becoming? Come, children and hush
Take a splintered piece of me, of your own - for your own.
It's time to begin, to begin again.
To pull my bones out through my fingertips and write with them,
A story, of kind words - so hush.
Death by DandelionsThe day the dandelions came,Death by Dandelions in Free Verse More Like This
I dug up the roots and swallowed them.
I hid amongst the reeds and russets,
and glowered in the summer light.
I slipped into the water then -
and it carried me safely home,
I grappled with my sense of purpose /
I rippled with the waves of branches.
The day the dandelions came,
I felt their savage roar rush through me,
as I slept soundly under a bushel and
Let summer play on my skin.
Nighttime AvatarNighttime Avatar in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In a dark cavern her web she is weaving,
Gossamer filaments, soft yet so strong.
Softly she murmurs, Its mans disbelieving,
That has set me to this, all my life long.
She hums to herself, completely contented,
Knowing her place in the world is ordained.
This is her purpose, for she has consented.
The keeper of dreams, and here shell remain.
Working the night-long while mankind is dreaming,
Plaiting the threads of slumbring reveries.
Apart in her grotto, the candles agleaming,
She weaves dream visions with consummate ease.
Midnight hour visions that follow our waking
Providing insight to things we must explore.
Possibly solutions she is providing,
Resolving conflicts that wear on our souls.
Furnishing concepts of good and evil,
Guidance to help make us more than we are.
Dominion oer selves to face lifes upheavals,
Our tender and giving nighttime avatar.
© June 17, 2000
DespairDespair in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The shadow world where now I tread
Destroys my strength with tears unshed,
A dreamlike state wherein I'm lost –
Tenebrous land where I've been tossed.
But when emotions overflow,
Grief then becomes a raging bull
With horns of steel – a stabbing sword.
The shadows flee and I am gored.
The bloodied horns while ripping free
Unleash a monster no one sees,
A demon-thing that eats my soul
And tears my essence on the shoals
Of bitter loss. Unending night
Where, stumbling, I'm without sight
March 14, 2007
In Search of GraceIn Search of Grace in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
In Search of Grace
Emotions flowing unrestrained
Bring mem'ries which before were chained
And visions of my life gone past
Are seen as through a darkened glass.
Sweet memories of former days
When happiness was still ablaze.
The world then hugged me to its breast –
My life was bright and I was blessed.
Now distanced from my conscious thoughts
I look behind and see I've bought
This present time a-prick with thorns,
A future full of winter storms.
The choices made have brought me here –
To loneliness and anguished tears.
The clock can never be turned back
For once it's lived the time has past.
I came here with the highest hopes
For I felt I could learn to cope.
I had belief in who I am
I'd build new dreams and make new plans.
Bright promises were made to me –
A vision built which I could see.
Then something changed along the way –
The vision dimmed and turned to gray.
Uncertainty now rules my life.
I'm full of angst and inner strife.
My dreams lay shattered at my feet –
My disillusion is
OrdinarinessOrdinariness in Free Verse More Like This
Pots and pans, only pots and pans.
These homey items contain the power
To rend my heart and start the tears.
Only personal items should hold this power.
Dont you agree?
Your clothes, your cosmetics, your papers,
Not something mundane,
Not something ordinary,
No defense against the ordinary.
The little things
It seems the mundane has power,
Takes me unawares because of its
Im on guard against the personal.
Protective of myself knowing
I will feel pain.
There is no guard, no watchdog, no keeper
To set over the mundane.
The boxes sit in the garage,
Containing what is left of your life.
I dare not touch them, open them,
Sort the itemsfor doing so causes
A mountain to fall on me,
A black mountain of grief
Which looms ever ready to
Overshadow and crush.
Someday. Someday I hope to have
The strength to go through the boxes.
To sort your life, dividing it,
Incorporating it into my own and theirs.
For now the boxes sit as
For YouFor You in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
So many things do remind me of you,
The wind in the trees, the color of blue,
The scent of the rain, grass covered with dew.
These simple treasures remind me of you.
Long nights spent talking, sometimes until two,
Of deep, long discussions, finding things true,
Walks through the forest, discovering new
Treasures to take home and set out to view.
Such simple pleasures, the sharing was grand.
Theres so much more now that I understand.
Wish you were here, I would give you my hand
And we would go walking the woodlands again.
I would then tell you of lessons Ive learned,
The triumphs Ive had, of peace thats hard earned.
And of the failures, from them, too, I've learned.
To tell you these things, I have so yearned.
I wonder why you were taken from me.
I didnt know how alone I would be.
Are you above looking down upon me?
And are you pleased with the things that you see?
Mom, take my hand, gently guide me along.
Sing me a lullaby, send me your song.
First day of School (request)First day of School (request) in Short Stories More Like This
Kevin and Dave's mothers had signed them up for a private school. They were fed up with the constant irritation of everyday life of school. However, Kevin and Dave didn't mind it; school didn't pose a problem to either one of them. Their moms thought that they were exposed to fights, drug use and any other problem that would typically happen at school. And they were. They usually stayed out of the way of those things, too. But it was too much for their mothers to absorb that that was life. However, they also thought that Kevin and Dave were growing a bit of an attitude towards either parent. So, they signed both of them up for a private school, in which, they will both attend together as friends. The boys were confused; how were they, in anyway, 'have an attitude'? They were obediant children! They did their homework, listened to their parents and played games like any other boy would. They assumed it was probably something to do with the whole school problem. E
Crab Fancy (request)Crab Fancy (request) in Short Stories More Like This
Koga liked to go to the beach a lot. It was a nice way to deal with stress and also because he just flat out liked to go to the beach! However, Koga had a small problem with going to the beach, sometimes. He had a large fear of crabs. He didn't know what it was with them, but there was just that awful look the crabs had to him that made him scared. So, if he even saw one crab on the beach, he would get up and leave, just like that.
It was yet, another fine day, for Koga's beach trip. He'd encountered about 3 crabs the past days he's gone to the beach, but he was feeling confident with this one, he knew this day was going to be awesome. He pulled up to the parking lot and parked his car a fair distance away from the beach. He opened the door and was greeted with a nice breeze of ocean water and the sounds of waves crashing against the shore. Before he did anything, Koga went out a couple of feet from his car to the sand to look for
Secrets Are Best Hidden (read description) David liked secrets. Not necessarily gossip, but just things that he wouldn't have known about people or just secrets in general. Any secret did him well; secret passages, secret places in games... you name it, he'll like it. Though, there was one secret that he knew and wanted; a book that his sister kept in her room. He wasn't so sure if it was a diary or something else, but he saw it with her a couple of times. He wanted to sneak into her room and get it, but he was afraid of getting caught and facing such consequences from his sister and parents. He will get the book, eventually.Secrets Are Best Hidden (read description) in Short Stories More Like This
His sister had a performance at school and her parents were going to go watch her. However, they gave David a choice of whether or not if he wanted to go.
His mom called from downstairs, "David, are you going to come with us to watch your sister's show?"
He opened his mouth, about to automatically blurt out 'yes', but then he thought, "This would be an exc
One Last GoodbyeWriting one last letter, saying one last good-bye,One Last Goodbye in Free Verse More Like This
My blood falling to the floor, as if coming from the sky.
"You told me that you love me, but we could never be,
I cannot live without you, so I'm doing this you see."
"If we cannot be together, then I don't want to live,
I've got nothing left at all, nothing left to give."
I close the envelope softly, seal it wish a kiss,
Turn to look the other way, and wait for my dismiss.
'Best Friend'You left me here,'Best Friend' in Free Verse More Like This
alone in the cold.
I can almost see the wind blow.
It brings back memories,
memories of you.
The way you used to smile,
you know, back we were two.
three musketeers minus one, "best friends".
The warth of your hug,
and those silly jokes you told,
while trying to cheer me up, force one smile out of me.
I opened up to you, telling you everything.
& now thinking back I realize...
you told me nothing.
Nothing worth knowing, anyway.
Whatever happened? Did you just get bored?
I'm not always cheery, not always interesting,
but I thought best friends was more than that.
Maybe I was too eager,
eager to believe I finally had someone,
some to call my best friend.
you were the closest to it,
almost the closest I'd ever had.
now you're just every other "friend" in the hallway.
Of Nightmares and Fairytales"Let's be Goddesses!" You had said, somehow. And somehow I became oneOf Nightmares and Fairytales in Short Stories More Like This
with you, at that tender age of being a middle-teen: trudging along to our
twenties until we discovered our sandals with tiny wings that helped
But only momentarily.
The fall was silent, but not quick, not at all. And I fell, and I fell. At the bottom, I somehow hurt my knees, my back, my neck. I hurt my organs inside and everything ached, in more ways than I could ever explain to you. I was Alice bruised and bloody. You were the mad Hatter, always blaming someone else, asking me to move aside, then back again.
After my fall, I looked back, but only for a second. I looked up, at you.
And I ran as you kept on falling.