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About Literature / Hobbyist everwalkerFemale/United Kingdom Group :icon5phrases: 5Phrases
Prompts to inspire poetry
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Literature
Platonic
I miss you when you’re not with me
It’s the obvious time to miss you
My busy life keeps cantering on
Filled with friends and frivolity
But if you walk in unexpectedly
The sun and its summer comes too
I miss you when you’re standing here
I know you will not stay
And I must let you go with a smile
Because to cling is to lose you
The thought of which hollows my heart
And is your absence in proximity
I miss you when I’m in your arms
You are not mine to hold tight
For as long as I hunger to do
So I leave first, I always leave first,
You pulling back from me is worse,
And as I go I miss you
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 1 0
Literature
Mad Cat Lady
I used to dream of a normal life:
An office job from nine ‘til five,
A loving husband, two point four
Children, one dog and maybe more.
The thought of kids went down the drain
At fifteen, with illness and lots of pain;
The doctor, looking sad and stern,
Said “You can’t carry a babe to term.”
The working hours idea got bent
At twenty one, when I needed rent
Money, took the first job I found,
And damn near worked the clock-face round.
(And once you’re in, like a lobster trap,
It’s hard to change your career track.)
I thought, at uni, I’d found the man
I’d spend my life with. That was the plan.
After nine years of waiting for him, I propose.
He says ‘no thanks’ and off he goes,
And you can’t keep dogs in a London flat.
So I went and got myself a cat.
My tiger, who kisses me every day
And misses me when I go away.
You roll your eyes, laugh, call me mad.
But he’s all that’s left of the dream I had.
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 0 1
Literature
The Meaning of Fine
I’m fine.
I have spoken with friends on politics, hobbies,
arranged to see them in a week’s time.
I have walked streets that know me, caught snow on my lashes,
as the first flowers thrust green spear-tips into Winter’s belly.
I have listened to music, both new and beloved,
and bought songs that sang in my ears after ending.
I have buried my fingers in warm fur, received in return
a rough-tongued kiss and a motorbike purr.
Whilst I do these things, I’m fine.
I have not opened my lips and broken my heart
on the bone-white rocks of undesired declarations.
I have not boarded a train, a plane, run from the pain
to the far ends of nowhere, only to find it packed in my pocket.
I have not written the letter that tells you everything,
Leaves you the rest, and just disappeared.
I have not drawn a hot bath, set out a new knife,
and drunk the last drop in the bottle.
Until I do these things, I’m fine.
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 1 0
Literature
My Jaw Is Locked
Did you think it had gone? That scream inside you
Which shimmers and grows like a bubble of glass,
As fragile and sharp-edged, just biding its time,
Cutting deep after it should have dissolved.
No matter how long and no matter how large,
You still can’t work out how to exorcise it.
You wait, and you hope, and forget that it’s there.
And sometimes it stops you breathing.
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 0 0
Literature
Unrequited
Stuff words into a cupboard’s cobwebbed spine,
Place useful pots in front and close the door.
The constellations never see that thought,
However much they blaze and tempt and whine.
The tearing rocks lurk under mill-still streams -
Keep them submerged and slip smooth past the shore.
You don’t know what could be lost overboard
By jibing into star-crossed rapid dreams.
So push the words back to the shadowed deep,
Stop up your ears with glass that cannot gleam.
Those sirens taint whomever sees them weep;
Above all things you love, this must stay clean.
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 0 0
Literature
Waiting
Under the veil of winter weeping,
Bones of trees in shrouded white,
I wander alone, my footsteps light.
Frost in my breath and in my heartbeat;
Casting no shadow, stirring no stone,
Waiting for Imbolc on my own.
Wake in the green when the leaves unfurl,
Fire returning to earth.
When you rise I will be waiting,
Waiting for Spring and your birth.
Under darkness, curled and cradled;
Dreaming of war, of blood on the blade.
Death cannot dim the blazing
Warrior forged in bronze and sunlight,
Heart as boundless as the sea.
Dream now of me beside you, where I have always been.
Wake in the green when the leaves unfurl,
Fire returning to earth.
When you rise I will be waiting,
Waiting for Spring and your birth.
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 1 1
Literature
White
White is the colour of my sorrow
Your skin without blood
A deep dusting of winter
The air I speak is empty
And white is the colour of my sorrow
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 1 0
Literature
Did You Sell Your Soul For Me?
you have no care for my world racing to
smash it to bloody fragments and leave me
bereft in its ruined wake in the grief
of your heart you forgot the guilt of mine
and roar blinkered through the darkness in a
black coffin that - remember! - has two seats
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 1 0
Literature
Still Here
My hand is a stranger's hand
Reaching with its own desire
For objects I do not understand
My tongue is a stranger's tongue
Tripping over words I did not think
Spilling secrets without permission
My heart is a stranger's heart
Trapped within a cage of ribs
Craving visions I cannot imagine
My eyes are a stranger's eyes
Windows set some distance back
Through which I watch a foreign world
And a stranger's heart wants the passing colours
And a stranger's tongue gives glib replies
And a stranger's hand clings tight
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 0 0
Literature
Elegy for Aeneas
While you still lived I wrote your elegies,
Such heartfelt songs of love and loneliness
Mourned in advance, a shadow that I hoped
Would never fall, would never come to pass.
A child’s fear, exploring boundaries
Of my worst nightmare, hoping that control
Might come from better understanding them,
And praying that I’d never feel this way
In truth, that I would be the first to go.
You died before me.
How can I write your elegy now?
No music comes from an empty echo.
No beauty from half a pattern.
My arms embraced your last breath
And it took my world with its passing.
---
The sea is fed afresh by silver springs.
The white tree stands anew upon the hill,
And wind falls silent. Listen! Nature sings
Your passing softly; he who called on kings,
And raised them up, harsh duty to fulfill,
And brought down gods. But these were little things.
You were my shield, my compass, banner proud.
So much of self was given; so much owed
In blood and faith and oft repeated vow.
You swore you
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 2 1
Literature
Blue Moon Days
There are days when you believe the compliment
You can look unflinching into a mirror
Getting out of bed requires no effort at all
You dance to the music of Carrie Underwood
And remember what happy tastes like
These are the good days, the rare days, the blue moon days
They come as a lone oasis, or in beautiful bouquets
Then there are days when you don’t, can’t, eat
You'd scream into a pillow but you don’t know how to lose control
You won’t look before crossing the road
Even talking to your best friend, who’s seen your tears more times than you remember, is unthinkable
And the idea of opening an email makes you nauseous
These are the bad days, the rare days, the white flag days
They hunt in packs, dragging you by the throat into the freezing snow
There are days when you do things because you promised the list would be completed
You can lose yourself in the moment and laugh
Suicide only occurs to you as a solution once, maybe twice
You talk to people with a
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 0 0
Literature
No Way Back
Lethe has eroded this proud shore,
Leaving fragile overhangs on a tattered headland.
Let the dark waters cover my fields too.
I would remember you whole, as you wished.
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 1 0
Literature
Goodbye
My feet are gonna hurt you
As they walk away
You can’t understand why I won’t stay
The blood that fills my footprints
Seeps from wounds you made
Can’t keep ignoring all these stains
And I don’t blame you
Coz everything you did
Was what you thought was right
And you were faultless in your sight
And I will miss you
And everything we were
Throughout those summer nights
Not even stars could shine so bright
Not even stars could shine so bright
A friendship one step ahead of itself
Story of my life
No roar behind the lightning strike
A cobweb lace of scarring
Holds my heart down tight
And I was silent ‘til tonight
But I don’t blame you
Coz everything you did
Was what you thought was right
And you were faultless in your sight
And I will miss you
And everything we might
Have been if I could hide
How much I bleed behind my eyes
How much I bleed behind my eyes
Oh, try to understand it hurts
To walk away from you
I never thought I’d be the one
To say that
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 0 0
Literature
A Kind of Comfort
I am a hollow and echoing cave
My sky a heaven of starfish
Until the surge of your sorrow floods in
I draw your sorrow within me
Let it fill my silence
Let peace cleanse your breast
Feet will find ground again under the sun
And leave your tears to the stars
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 1 5
Literature
Greenwich Mean Time
CAST:
ALEX MORROW - owner of the King’s Head pub. Formerly a petty time thief and not especially talented barman who recently moved into more serious crime at the behest of a cousin, Tom Morrow. (Can be played as either gender.)
MARK - an innocent bystander. His wife Wendy died of cancer very recently and Mark is currently trying, rather unsuccessfully, to drown his sorrows.
JANET/JANUARY - senior officer of the Department of Temporal Regulation, and head of the Winter Division. A sharp-tongued, sharp-tempered woman who, despite appearances, is actually very fond of Tavi.
OCTAVIAN/‘TAVI’/OCTOBER - officer of the Department of Temporal Regulation (although not quite as senior as Janet), and head of the Autumn Division. A friendly optimist who spends most of his time in the lab, coming up with the Department’s gadgets, and is therefore less experienced at dealing with civilians.
SCENE:
The inside of the King
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 2 0
Literature
Sprained Heart
I didn’t see you go
Slipping softly, silently away from me
You never said goodbye
Though I dreamed you paused to kiss my sleeping cheek
What else could I have done?
What else could I have said to make you stay?
As through the maze of tubes
And lights and monitors you fell away
More than a year ago
Hazy days of wards and morgues and graves in frost
I can’t stop missing you
Every week another piece misplaced or lost
I never thought I would
Forget how sunlight gleamed upon your hair
Your laugh, your fingernails
Each week another detail isn’t there
CHORUS
Our hearts don’t break, they sprain
I can’t spend my life in rain
Cry the tears that grieving needs
Let them wash away the pain
I love you
I forget
And that’s okay
The week after you passed
I laughed at something on the radio
I can’t stop being me
Alive, though you have left me here alone
I will always love you
But not each second of every day
The details of your face
Will blur in memory, a
:iconeverwalker:everwalker
:iconeverwalker:everwalker 1 0

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Literature
October
I find you in the solo dolce,
a memory twice-removed.
I catch my thoughts
on the corners of the train window
four years back,
when your name still savored
of maple and rose.
I want to ask you--
does your finger brush, pause,
and curl back on notes
that hold my name?
I can halfway breathe
the lamplight as
(I imagine)
your lips purse on recognition,
your sigh saturated
with autumn memory.
I'm convinced we both
wish that such chords were
still unpainted with remembrance
and first-love connotation--
there's breathless beauty in
the first movement but
I detest your silhouette
amongst the harmony.
Steeping bitter,
I resent your aftertaste,
stains on a melody.
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I.O.U
There's a line for lottery tickets today.
I stare at the back of a line of heads
and wonder how much they would give
for a winner,
how they'd use their billion-dollar fix.
The man in front twists
his niccotine fingers and mumbles
his lucky numbers,
a six-digit prayer to such
unholy saints,
those paper-green faces.
You have a better chance of
being struck by lightning than you do
breaking out of debt before
you're forty--
If my parents wouldn't suffer for
my monetary sins,
my negative worth in the eyes
of capital gods,
I would stand in thundering fields
with my kite to the cumulonimbus.
I am banking
on a set of asinine numbers,
asking Jesus, Mary, every canonized soul
to put me before the others
with crumpled dreams in their pockets,
paying a dollar-and-fifty for what could be
their salvation.
I don't even know their stories,
I just hold mine to my chest and pray
it is enough to justify
the sating of my deficit
before theirs.
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everwalker

Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
I write whatever happens to dustball through my brain. It's involuntary, most of the time. The fact that I'm a neat-freak then forces me to edit.

Also, I am haunted by stick men with sausages for fingers. Which is why you won't find any drawings in my gallery.
Interests

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:iconvw1956:
vw1956 Featured By Owner Sep 2, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank You very much for the :star: on angel2 by vw1956 :sun:
Reply
:icondylanseto:
DylanSeto Featured By Owner Jul 20, 2014   Artist
Hey~~

Just wanted to thank you for the fave!

Also, since I'm currently focusing on music, I was wondering if you'd be interested in supporting me in that endeavor of mine?

If you are, I can link you to where you can find that stuff!
Reply
:iconeverwalker:
everwalker Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Hi,

I had a listen to the stuff linked on your profile page. I'm afraid it's not really my kind of thing, but good luck with it.
Reply
:icondylanseto:
DylanSeto Featured By Owner Jul 22, 2014   Artist
Fair enough :)
Reply
:iconnullibicity:
Nullibicity Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
:iconthxfavplz: It's warmly appreciated! :happybounce::thanks:
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