Trees know how to be braveThe trees are resigned to dyingTrees know how to be brave in Free Verse More Like This
and still they do not shrivel
against the brutal winds of August.
They reach out. Reach up. Grasp.
They etch out, as veins,
into the tender flesh of the sky
and pierce the sun with broken fingers
trying hard to warm aching bones
for their first and final days
of a life as a skeletal dream.
Trees know that tragedy is not death
but what we let die in us, in life.
Magic of Memories Comp - CLOSED** This competition has now CLOSED.Magic of Memories Comp - CLOSED in Personal More Like This
Lit Competition #14 - "The Magic of Memories"
I just read through my past journals and it seems this is my 14th lit competition here on DA, and my 17th competition overall, which is jolly! I have obviously been gone a long time so I wanted to meet people from the lit community and get involved again so this seemed like a good idea, plus obviously its almost Christmas so why the hell not!
This year I asked my 7 closest friends to write their favourite memory from 2012 on a piece of paper about each of the other 7 (including me). They will all go into envelopes and on New Years Eve each person will get an envelope with these letters from the other 7 people about them. This is a great way to remind you of how far you have come in the past year, remember the best days and nights of that year, to feel loved, and it provides a permanent reminder that you can go back to in twenty years and remember this year. I'm hoping that it'll go
Moving OnAll I can tell you isMoving On in Free Verse More Like This
I haven't gotten far
twenty years of yesterday.
The Re-Prettify ProjectBreathing in silver filamentsThe Re-Prettify Project in Free Verse More Like This
will not make you pretty on the inside.
You cannot polish and buff
lung or aorta
until it is shiny and new.
If you have filled your life with toxins
and allowed your eyes
to cloud over with coal dust
do not, my friend, do not
seek silver linings from anything
but penance and kindness.
Throwing gold-dust over your head
will not administer you a halo.
Jeremy and The SkyJeremy was a certified dragon.Jeremy and The Sky in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
He’s all the things a dragon tends to be;
a tail, two wings, and many a talon
and fire that brews in his round belly.
At seven Jeremy learned how to fly.
He spread his sprawling cape of blackened wings
and off he sped, up to meet with the sky
to hear it whisper of such wond’rous things.
“If mortals knew how far up I can go
they surely would not fear me any more!
Up on my back, I’d give them such a show
that they would cease the killing in this war!”
Jeremy never told them of his trick
on landing he was pelted with a brick.
The PledgesI pledge to immortaliseThe Pledges in Free Verse More Like This
acts of love committed against me,
to share the knowledge
painstakingly passed down to me
from shaky paper hands
to the smooth maternal grip
on reality - to me.
I pledge to remember
the way that my last first kiss tastes
and constantly struggle
to capture it for those not lucky enough
to kiss you.
I pledge to save my tears
to rehydrate old inkwells
so that they become part of every story
I decide to tell.
MaybeJust give me one dream that isn't see-through.Maybe in Free Verse More Like This
One substantiated claim to reality,
that I might hold onto life with.
Every quivering cell, mid-osmosis, begs you
for a shred of dignity with my tea.
Just one chance for something heavy,
something hard and room temperature. Real.
I don't want to look through my day dreams
and see someone else's face there.
I don't want to dream of those people
who may make, or break me, in the future tense.
I am tired of milky white and reflective black.
It is time for a life of colour and hope -
and not looking back to see if the past
matches up with the jigsaw map to the end game.
I want to be in the game, participating,
feeling, like I might make it there one day.
Just give me something, that I can hold onto;
something harder to see through than a whisper
of that voice in the back of my mind that says
I love him nonethelessHe smoked in bed with his spine bent where it shouldn't, slumped across the pillows and with his eyelids half open and if it had been another life time I probably would have been in love with him.I love him nonetheless in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
As it was, I watched the cigarette as he brushed his nose with his palm, sniffed to try and retract his emotions and then shakily drew from it again.
He was utterly beautiful, even in wretchedness, and although every inhale was agony in his trachea I could see behind his dulled irises the desire to be better, and I was going to get him there.
I tucked my feet under his duvet and didn't care when our feet touched. He flinched but not at me but because his thoughts had been elsewhere. I took no offence and neither of us moved again.
He took nervous stabs at the ashtray as the loose tobacco fizzled and escaped the paper. It was an instinct. A reflex. If the bed had set alight with both of us in it the only reason either of us would have moved would have been to save the other.
The bed didn't set
C19H28O2Testosterone is not a measure of a man.C19H28O2 in Free Verse More Like This
C19H28O2 cannot make me smile
or feel safe in a claustrophobic world
in which breathing causes the piercing
colostomic pain of being alive
to rip through my thoughts.
C19H28O2 doesn't determine how a man loves
or how I love him in return.
It does not tell me whether or not
he will enlighten the biting nightscape.
It does not tell me who, or how to love,
because testosterone is not a measure of a man.