LunaShe sat below the moonMore Like This
Her back resting against a tree
Bark rough against her skin
Keeping her alert
The sky was blue-black
The colour of midnight approaching
Her toes dipped into cool water
Fishing for the moon
LunaMore Like This
Silver rays pierce the evening sky,
Cool luminance pours forth,
The moon has ascended.
The Beanie Baby MenagerieLaura: *playing with beanie babies, making them talk in miscellaneous voices happily* *bounces the turtle* Hello Mr. Coon.*deepens her voice, bouncing the coon* Why hello Ms. Turtle, whats wrong? *sobs in Turtles voice* I want to hide in my shell.More Like This
Amanda: *after staring at Laura incredulously* Things have a way of turning out so badly. I dont believe that I would be turning on the radio right now, Laura. Well, well-well! That dinner date of ours was engaged after all . . . *rubs her brow then calls to the door* TOM!
Tom: WAH? *opens the door, shuffles in and looks around* Where did the dude go? I had two player hooked up and everything.
Amanda: Well, he left. *growls* WHAT a WONDERFUL joke you played on us!
Laura: *shakes her head sadly* We didnt find it funny. Mr. Coon thinks that was mean.
Amanda: You didnt let us know Jim was engaged!
Tom: Jim? ENGAGED? . . . it was probably that online girl Betty hes been musin over. I
Laura's MenagerieMore Like This
Hidden within an iron cast,
Lies cultivate in her past;
Reviving pain from years far back,
She sighs as horses trot outside with resounding clack.
Returning with the darkened coffer,
She wishes remorsefully she hadn't refused the offer;
A night full of city lights,
Touring around to see the sights.
Yet comfort remained in this box,
Guarded securely by key and lock;
Holding a cargo too precious to show,
Too brittle to throw,
More valuable than she knows.
In this box is an assembly of glass,
Shards of crystal held fast;
Glittering within a velvet cell,
Resting peacefully in the soft shell.
But they are not what they seem,
Carved in the like of creatures reality and dream;
A myriad of glistening pets,
Arranged neatly in pristine sets.
They lift her spirit and give her hope,
Help her bear the world and help her cope;
Release her dreams from a prison of past;
Sustain her in a world that moves too slow,
Guarding her against her self-esteem,
Her lack of confidence,
Living with NostalgiaThe lazy sunday afternoonMore Like This
lolls around. Sleeping in late
waking up to a blinding
sunlight in one's eyes.
Clumsily they leave their beds
one by one, ingesting caffeine
to awaken their tired bodies
Lazy sunday afternoon calls for
no work to be done. Though
gradually laundry piles start
Carefully re-organizing items,
making the living quarters
somewhat more liveable.
But from the corner of an eye...
The colours burst forth from
the paper, and the still-life images
begin to breathe and move
The year just past
flurries forward a million
memories, each picture
echoing of thousands of words.
Two years prior, faces are
smiling, eyes are twinkling
and the all round good times
emmanate from the glossy sides.
As hands redraw these moments
that were lived many months ago
simultaneously a smile lights its way
as tears pour down the cheeks.
Sitting here, an utter calm is
found and the daily distractions
melt away as one waits to be
The Nothing PoemMore Like This
I had a little idea
He just came into my head
I don't know where he comes from
But he lives there, still.
His name is NOTHING
Such a power to his name
And everyone knows him
Because he's always there.
As NOTHING comes and
NOTHING goes SOMETHING
Manages to finally come along
And take NOTHING's place.
And when he leaves we're
Happy, but only for a while
Because if you wait a bit
He'll come back just the same.
And you'll continue to play
With NOTHING until
SOMETHING comes along
And then when there is
NOTHING will be
The Day the Dark Enfolded MeMore Like This
A black so thick that the
Smoke clouds my judgement.
An ebony so pure that it
Swallows me whole.
I am devoured.
Devoured by this infinite darkness
And I cannot see, think, hear
Feel or taste.
A useless shell of a human being,
I have no functions, I am
Dead nor alive.
What am I?
My colours have been drained out
The spark has long gone
I am numb.
I feel nothing.
Nothing at all.
Am I still breathing?
A Perfect MatchMore Like This
"But my mommy says that I shouldn't play with you," the boy said.
"It's okay," it said. "She would not have left you with me, if she had."
"I don't know," said the boy again. "It kinda scares me."
"Don't be afraid," it said. "I won't hurt you."
The boy reached out to touch it, and brought his hand back just before contact.
"What's wrong?" it asked.
The boy frowned. "You promise it will be okay?"
A deep sigh issued from it. "Yes, it will be just fine."
The boy reached out again, and touched it lightly, before finally grasping it firmly and stroking it hard.
Frightened again, the boy dropped it.
It fell to the floor with a laugh, and said,
Fulfillment through DepravityMore Like This
They call me crazy. I beg to differ. I'm sentenced to die only for their lack of understanding. So, here I sit day after day in this cold, lonely, dark jail-cell. Fed once daily, I'm slowly thinning away, still filled with the lust of my chosen delicacy and the hatred that was bred upon me. I don't know how long I've been here or how long I'll stay. No windows to the outside world are present to accompany me, only one diminutive hole near the top of the door shining in a small beam of light through from the prison corridor. I've grown somewhat accustomed to this new lifestyle of mine however bleak it may be in comparison to the stirring existence of my past.
I was born on August 13, 1974, putting me now at slightly over fifty years old. My mother unfortunately died during labor, leaving my single father to raise me alone. My unstable father was traumatized b
At Tim HortonsThe Doughnuts are Dying!More Like This
And Cookies bite the dust!
The Gingerbread Figures scream,
At the eaters lust!
The Peach Drink is gulped!
The can is crushed!
The Iced Cap goes down!
And food is a must!
Nanimo Bars howl,
As they are devoured!
The Crossant Hide,
And in fear they cower!
Tim Hortons is brutal!
And so many sweets fall!
The food is now slain!
As the eaters do call!
Destroy This PoemDestroy This PoemMore Like This
To the person grading this poem
To the kind, patient woman hovering over this with a pen
Waiting to say kind, patient words in response, do me a favor:
Dont Patronize me.
I did not slave over this with hammer and anvil
Shaping it into a masterpiece.
I didnt paint it onto the ceiling of some church,
Going blind from the pain and the stress.
I didnt even turn this in on time.
And while Im writing this in my fifth-period economy class,
You can bet Im not concerned with iambs and troches and Italian terza rima.
No, Im concerned with how much water is left in my water bottle.
This isnt a masterpiece.
Who are we kidding?
Youre not going to hurt it, and you most certainly arent going to hurt me.
Dont patronize me.
I want you to destroy my work.
I want you to rip it to shreds with sadistic dominatrix glee.
Tear it apart from margin to margin;
Laugh openly at its crippled, struggling body.