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When She Was Young
When she was young she would sleep
holding her dreams in her hand next
to her heart to protect them from being
forgotten now that she is older she sleeps
dreading to dream as her hands cannot hold
them any longer.
When she was young her dreams had a meaning
they lightened up her mornings opening her
balcony to breath the fresh air to look towards
the mountains and feel the sensation of climbing
to the peak watch the other side & peep to the
beauty she could reach out to,being younger &
having the courage that tomorrow she can do it.
When she was young she was glad of life
because it gave her the chance to fall in love
to work to play to look at the stars.
Now that she is older she opens her balcony
and sees a black fog hiding her view the mountains
don't exist her hopes are mixed up there is a deep
valley, the trees are withered the path is blocked
the birds are screaming their nests are gone
the grass is suffering because of the wind changed
its direction running away taking everything
that might still be alive.
If only she knew how getting older would feel
when she was younger she would have intentionally
grabbed each day by force and lived each moment
instead of having to have lived only to give her
whole existence to everybody, she would have had
time to keep the mountains view look alive she
would have kept seeing a clear path with no end
she would have told the trees not to die she would
have told the blowing wind to keep her birds nests alive
she would have asked her dream not to let her grow olde
her dream answered her.
My friend if I could do that trust me I would have
fulfilled your dream.
Yet, she loved when she was younger,
she loves getting older, and she loves
living today each Moment, Now.
Bounded by fear -
Do you still remember that?
When I would build my walls;
I would let no one in
I would look for ways to cut them off
Especially those who got too close
Do you remember when I said?
It was for their own good
In the meantime you knew it was the fear talking
Afraid of the consequences
Feeling that if I let them in,
They might be hit by misfortune
I never thought it would come to this
I never thought the fear would dissipate –
Replaced by faith
Replaced by the knowledge
That everything that happened
Had to happen
In order for me to let go
To stop myself from stifling my growth
I needed to embrace the pain,
Embrace the laughter,
Even the fear of losing loved ones
I needed to let go –
I needed to experience the hurt
I needed to experience the joy
I needed to experience the fear
I needed to fail,
I needed to fall
So I can stand today
Knowing that no matter what happens
Is ready to go on –
That fear can be toppled by faith
If I focus on me
Focus on today and not on my past
Through the gates of a mysterious garden,
Eyes glinting in the moon,
A sudden wind caught my hair,
Dark chambers, a choking sound in the shadows,
Unlatching the threads of a defiled soul.
Feet cold on the grass,
And I stood listening.
The darkling seas beyond moan,
Unearthing the sepultures,
Secretly buried in their womb.
Torn petals upon my palms lay,
Engravings shrunken and old,
Of some forgotten verse.
The boughs were dancing there,
The night sky, their flowers mirrored shimmering,
Echoing their song of some broken dream.
((... I walked away from the ancient ruins,, a glimpse at those hidden hollows,, slipping into the silence.))
A faithful friend
even though I can be
A faithful friend
believe in me
even though I tell
which may seem incredibly
A faithful friend
listen to me
even though I say
A faithful friend
will always listen
to what I have
A-L Andresen :)
(2nd place in the contest)
Me, finally free
I’ve untied my hands
And let them explore
Soft and rigid
Hard and pliable
Textures and smoothness,
Grabbing a succulent treat
My fingers grip
The lurid wrapper
I shovel the chocolate devil
Through parted lips
Madness consume me
For Dahlink D Guzzo's contest
A white blanket will fall upon January.
It will cover my heart and freeze my soul
into solitaire. A love will blossom in the
mist of February. Unknown to me, that
love will remain a mystery.
My luck will fail in the medows of March.
For my life will deplete and become parched.
Still - my heart will break in the hands of April.
A story that only time will tell.
A tear shall fall at the end of may, but even now
I don't know what day. The sun will peak over the
horzion in June, still my sadness will conquer
Explosions of flashing lights will fill the night skies
of July. As I sit here with my memories that have
gone and passed me by, but I will rest here in
the lap of August.
Maybe one day my love will realize that I loved
him/her the strongest. The days I did lose in
the oceans of September - are the days that
I wish , I could remember.
We will plant seeds in October. Hopefully we
will become wiser and act older. Autumn is to
become a great friend of November. How they
will meet - I can only ponder.
Now my visions begin to fade in the silence of
December To understand them - is to know
life's everlasting embers...
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
I sit here in my little cyberboat on this monstrous sea
of words and phrases,fed by all the electronic rivers
of the world. I've been here often and fished freely
and not without success. At times, I pulled out diverse
bits of tricky wordplay to express my moods, fears
and longings. I rowed out to a deeper area this evening
determined to set my poles right and send my hooks years,
many years deep, to find those expressions existing
in unmined dark depths that swim in light phosphorescent,
unmatched and of their own making, smart and competent,
all like you my friend, independent, beautiful and intelligent.
I returned to shore without a catch, no brightly relevant
words to express how lovely a few hours and a lunch could be,
how my heart skips at good-byes, how valuable you are to me.
Beautiful baby Bella
Grew into a greatly gifted girl.
She sang songs solely for soldiers,
Homesick for hugs from their honeys.
But Bella fell fast for a friendly fella,
So now she sings solos solely for him.
For Alliteration contest 9/7/11
Best for last
BILLYtheKidster is dead.
A fatal bullet penetrated the Kidster's head.
He heard the screaming of a woman being mugged or raped
and ran to her aid to try and save her from her fate.
Her assailant however possessed a weapon.
The last sound the Kidster heard was the blast of a gun.
The bullet struck the Kidster square in his face.
His murderer is still at large. Authorities don't have a trace.
The above was a nightmare that I had last night.
It awoke me from my sleep, so I thought it worth a write.
Sorry if I alarmed anyone.
Born and raised as a little child in a Witches’ coven,
the Black Witch was indeed a very precocious child
whose hell-spawned soul was seared in Hell’s oven,
and like Medusa herself was a creature gone wild.
The Black Witch had a craggy, malevolent demeanor
and at a glance was stark, sinister, menacing and unholy,
with jet black snake-like hair making her even meaner;
she was a reincarnated spirit dispelling all things good and holy.
The Black Witch was imbued with uncanny, unearthly powers
and had dark probing eyes and exceptional sensory perception,
and a bulbous, bile-ridden black wart was prominent among her powers,
and protruded close to the tip of her nose from the time of her conception.
She used the bile, putrid liquid extracted from her black wart to capture
and poison and corrupt the life essence of her victims—if they resisted;
she acutely honed her pagan skills in the Black Arts to the highest rapture
while using her Gorgon-grimaced face to strike fear in all who resisted.
As the most favored disciple and mistress of the Dark One,
the Black Witch possessed a withering and wicked mesmerizing gaze
used masterfully to corrupt and control souls for the Dark One,
dooming her victims forever to a land with an impenetrable haze.
The Black Witch brewed alchemic poisonous potions to a hideous effect,
using them to startle, stun and paralyze her victims with unending fear
while unmercifully taunting and tormenting them with equal evil effect,
using Witchcraft to destroy once innocent souls and harvest fear.
Intoning “Our Father, which wert in Heaven,” the Black Witch
began her Black Mass sessions with spirited evil and debauchery,
conjuring terrifying dreams and consigning victims to a black pitch
all the while laughing and reveling in all the evil and debauchery.
The Black Witch delighted in being “The Devil’s Concubine” by name,
for her liaisons with Lucifer made her omnipotent and devoutly unholy.
Her unbridled sense of power and invincibility was the Black Witch’s aim,
for this fed her conviction to do vicious and evil things—to be unholy.
To know the Black Witch was to realize a gorgonesque damnation forever
while she pursued the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.
The Black Witch was granted the power of all hell-spawned demons forever
to support and consummate her unholy activities in the name of Lucifer.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (August 19, 2014)
I see grandmother's bonnet moving above the bramble.
My mother tells me not to keep eating berries.
My little pail fills so slowly.
mouth drips purple juice
clothes torn, skin bleeding, itching
spill berries again
who seized the
storm and hushed the
Zephyr's rage to sleep;
the fierce within your soul,
the solace within your dreams.
I am your stained submissive lips
wanting, yet loathing; bare and alone,
oozing with lust filled memories; undone.
I am the bold stare when your eyes fear sight,
watching replays of your meant future,
whispering, I am no angel,
in your anxious, enthused ear.
I am your mind at night,
all you hold in sight,
your hearts lament,
Pushed from birth to be, to do, to say …
not the desired form,
neutered in a cocksure world
like a brood mare past her prime.
"Shhhh, be silent silly little one."
They say, the teacher, the parent,
the son? No son, so, no sunshine.
Such is life on this road traveled.
Life for the brazen vixen witches, who speak.
Standing tall in a pint size vessel of pretty.
Reaching high, rising on Escerhian staircases
of anxiety and pure guts.
Birthing men, leaders, leading them,
they are the puppet masters of King’s,
prodded prodigy of the bored
To be, never enough,
the fat free ice cream of deserts,
doing their all on the side streets …
Hooking the fat fish by their gold chains,
"Shhhh, be quiet, vessel "
Don’t dare dance.
Sing, sing of a checker board existence
into a Parcheesi night …
Wring the power from those self ordained.
Wretch the wicked from pedestals of white.
Hurl the hackneys money grubbers to the mulch
for this traveler will take no mainline.
Tree on top of hill
extends its boughs, offering
a canopy of shade.
So much that I want in you
And so much to push aside
So much they try to stop me
And so much I try to hide
So much, let's come together
So much, and then I cried
So much this fuqqing weather
It's too much
I fuqqing tried
You're all I feel inside me
Inside I feel so high
Sometimes I see you see me
And sometimes afraid to fly
Sometimes I say you're "My Girl"
And sometimes I see me lie
So stay let's play forever
Someday you'll feel the same
Just stay and we're together
Today let's watch the rain
Today to come inside you
Today I feel this pain
Someday I'll get to hold you
Someday you'll hold me too
That way I see inside you
I hope to see you soon
Then one day we'll watch the sun rise
From the bottom of the sea
We'll laugh and play together
Forever you and me...
by Christian Alexander