She prowls the night
with clenched jaw and pride,
nothing able to smite
her remorseless stride.
The ominous reflection of moon
shines forth from devouring eyes
of a nocturnal beauty spun on the loom
of the Creator's bid and sighs.
Grace moves her every limb
and she precedes an enraged scream
caused by ruins of a forest now grim
and held alive by all but one stream.
Her claws prophesy of vengeance
though her heart yearns for reconciliation.
Yet now there would be no leniency
for a soul's annihilation.
Now on journeys through lush valleys and ashes
she will embark
until all that remains after furious thrashes
will be the tigress' mark.
Copyright © Robyn Thomas | Year Posted 2013
Impulsive or compulsive
Either way it's not conducive
Living with this disorder
Can't be good for my liver
Obsessions, when do they stop?
Compulsions, when do I stop?
Let me illustrate and reiterate
My demons make me infuriated
To the point, man, I really want to escape this
Live everyday like your last?
These hours go by fast
Trying to obliterate every ounce of the past
Always with the imagery and self coping insanity
That broke me and continues to break me.
Another day, no not another day
I just got out, please let me stay away.
Copyright © Stefan Cote | Year Posted 2016
“It’s a terrible love
And I’m walking with spiders…
It’s a terrible love and I’m walking in
Its quiet company…”-Birdy
Three long claws enclosed around a lone beating heart
Stone talons gripping in happy malice, silently angry by its pulse it cannot feel…
The longer I stare into the hollow sockets seeing only ugliness,
The easier it becomes to break into pieces over the mere thought of you
I thought it was a dull beat- a throbbing, fading beat disappearing into the night…
Though your image, once so grainy, is becoming clearer and clearer in the fogs of my consciousness
I thought it was just a dull, callous beat…
But the more it throbs against the stone, the more the stone cracks
The more the demon cries in anguish…the more I fall
So deeply in love have I become,
I can barely breathe in this misty embrace
The suspense of your blows make my innards whimper…make my mind shiver
My tearful eyes cry for your assurance
My body changes through the peeks of your light
It is all a joke!
This is all pathetic, low, meaningless!
Surely these claws over this heart do not exist
Holding onto nothing but dead spiders who once weaved miracles
Dust and spider legs….spider eyes…they had seen so much…felt so much with their prickly appendages
Through a lovely peephole beyond the three stoned fingers…
I see the entire world where they must have crawled
A world holding you…
If only I could hold you too…
Something tells me I would never let go if I had the chance
Something tells me I would crush you
I would turn you into dust and spider legs…
And yes, as all demons enjoy, I would lose you
In the grip of the three stoned fingers
You were that heart I thought I had seen…
The heart that continued to beat long after it was ripped out
The clenched heart that throbbed despite its crushing cage
The very heart that bled and bled for no body and all for the sake of love
Beating and beating, cracking those frigid fingers
And all of the fallen limbless creatures would gather round…
And they would tell me… “He lives yet still…”
Weaving in their webs the very bloods and salts you pumped
Within me…and beyond me
Dead spiders weave and weave and weave…
And unlike human hearts, their ideas never tire
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014
This small island civilization,
its empire was the largest creation
with the widest trade connection.
There are mixed views of our colonization.
Many modern countries exist because of the British,
many justifiably say our actions were brutish.
Some have hate for us but at the same time cherish,
a widespread view of us creates an overembellish.
If the French had won the Battle of Waterloo
slavery of Afrikaans would have continued.
We went the distance with Hitler in World War Two,
we stood on our own, alone, Europe was consumed.
We stopped the slave trade and ended slavery,
we embraced the need for diversity,
we did what all were trying to do in history
so evil and good make up our legacy.
Some say that we ruined Indian culture
by installing our own counterculture,
but we actually created the structure
of the largest economy upon our departure.
We united over 1000 Indian languages
of divided tribes with age old grudges,
with centuries of war and ambushes,
our presence turned minorities into masses.
So Indian culture was our creation
along with over 50 nations,
who had operated in separation
with their own disruptive situations.
The Rule of Law and Justice For All,
the Political to the Football,
our revolutionary age of the Industrial.
our revolutionary wars were evolutional.
Building an empire was common
with brute force and invasion.
Installations of our operations
that shape current reputations.
Overlooking the others empires not so far and wide,
their mistreatment of locals and theft is put aside.
The fact there is evil in our past can't be denied
but all others were evil and all were most unkind.
The largest empire could have been French or Russian,
the Russians operate with cruel aggression,
the French Republic suggests a lack of compassion,
all empires and countries have had transgression.
Compare the places that Britain created
with nearby places they are situated.
Look at the economy of Gibraltar
it is better than Spanish cities by far.
The wealth and living standards of the Falklands compared with Argentina,
the powerhouse that is Hong Kong compared with China,
the collapse of independent India and success in Australia.
Our rebel relative the USA,
our ways were the foundation of their ways.
Created South Korea the third generation
all because of this island nation.
Outdoing all Europe and the rest,
creating the world we call the West,
time and again we have passed the test.
Of all the civilizations Great Britain is the best.
Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018
There is a place you can go that is full of only love and Warmth .
you will be surrounded by a light that shines from the Heavens ,
Sprinkles of Silver and Gold.
This place is filled with brilliant colors of Purple , vibrant Gold, all colors.
not one Color is less significant then another ,
for every color is equal here .
This place is surrounded by the beauty of different Flowers.
All flowers have significance here . No one Flower is better then another .
All Flowers are equal here .
It is important you know , you can cry here , and should cry as often as needed .
For the tears will cleanse your Soul and give the Flowers water to grow.
No one Tear is insignificant here , every tear has value and not one is better then another .
money holds no value , Where you live , what you own, has no significance here .
You will be surrounded by a beautiful light that shines from the Heavens .
A shining warm light will encircle you and allow nothing to hurt you .
Hate will be shed at the door like an old jacket of no use.
There is a place of beauty and Worth.
This place will not be found on Earth .
It is a place where no one person is better then another .
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
You were never seen by us, that privilege sadly was not for us
an extravagance we were overwhelmed by, the thought of your embrace
The entire twelve weeks you were a joy to have known, even 'without' being seen
hearing about you're arrival, was a blessing at the time you were conceived
For life hadn't been easy and we had all asked God, we even plea'd
We wait upon the day, you will finally meet us
having the honour to love and learn with you, saddly not for us
It brakes my heart as you part, you had already embeded love into my heart
Just knowing we will now...forever be kept apart
God has other plans for your love that's so strong, blessing us from the start
we continually pray, maybe he'll deside to let you stay around
But the intense pain of tears and loss, are constantly falling all around
just let it be known, we all desperately wanted you to become part of us
We all will love you for eternity, you are now forever one of us,
although it was only for a very slight second, it was better than never
You are from this day on, embedded into our hearts forever...
the impact you have left 'unborn young one'' my beloved grandchild....
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
The Potter, drenched in his noon-day sweat,
Sat hunched, cursing his fate;
The Clay which he fiddled with now
And the wheel he made to rotate,
Found him saddedned by a thought--
Saddened by his inward urge:
Should he make two separate
Or should they be merged?
Straining softly his fingers, first
He carved out a beautiful girl:
She thought how worthy she was made--
On her toes she did twirl..
With another piece of that clay,
The Potter's hands so swift,
Carved-out a man--a handsome Prince,
To be her Worthy gift...
The Sun drenched already the life of him,
And fused it in the clay--
The God-like Potter who played some more,
Thought of it this way.
Now both of them, kept in the Sun--
She'd dance and he'd play...
Soon love came-in at first sight,
But these pieces of clay,
Fell into a trap of envy and
Began the struggle to live--
Both knew of what is their's to take--
None ever learns to give....
Meanwhile the Maker, seeing them crack,
Frowned in great dismay,
Quickly picked up, merged them both
To a single ball of clay:
He thought again, what went wrong
And spun the wheel anew
'Should I make a single figure
Or should I remake the two?'
The Clay, still spinning in itself,
Knew It wanted none;
'Let life of Strife be not mine,
Pray let me stay as one....'
Copyright © Akash Yadav | Year Posted 2014
The"tail" I have to tell, starts off really sad.
My sweet doggie Murphy died and my heart, it hurt so bad.
Until one day in early spring, I got a call that made my heart sing!
There were some puppies born in Waco, the daddy -Jasper, and mommy- Juneau.
Four little boys, three little girls. But the picture of one boy, made my heart twirl!
So I waited for a week or two, to meet my little puppy-oh so new!
I named him Humphrey, such a handsome boy! He has brought laughter back and oh what a joy! He's super cute, and very smart. Many would say, he's a work of art!
He's learning new tricks, and how to potty outside. So many rules to learn and abide!
Humphrey is growing so quickly, the puppy breath will soon disappear. He will be an adult in less than a year! Every stage of his life is a blessing from above. I guess that's the true meaning of what we call "puppy love".
Copyright © Meghan Palmer | Year Posted 2013
im livin in a world, where all eyes on me.
trying to curve my own route.
but route 66 keeps finding its way to me.
ive been plenty sick, in all the events layed before me.
even when i reflect to my lowest points
i dont regret any of the choices
That I’ve deployed in my era
A lot of it by error, but hey
We live in hell conditions and there ain’t no air condition
Or any guidelines when life throws you in the sidelines
But when hindsight twenty twenty hits
You’ll begin to understand life’s a bunch of equations and you in the mix of it
An you’ll have to think twice, before running into a situation and becoming the best of it
it’s what got me here, it’s what got us here
Ran with my thoughts blazing up to her place and
Guess what happened next
She opened up heaven’s gate
And just before late I slipped out
I’m a Grown ass man
Doin his thing, waitin to blow up like an old land mine
In doin what he drools over
But time after time
Something decides to creep up and cover the light
Lost my way
Then I revoked to ever know, I ever thought that way
But in the in between time, that in the mean time
Spent a lot of time
Gettin pissed off just to medicate and lift off
Don’t need Don Perion to sip off
Already had my way with the bottle
Even thought to get back with the trouble and rejoin the hustle
That’s just what happens to a man who really knows his old ways
Whos tired of making ends meet and ponders getting back to the streets.
Memory sets in and he remembers an O.G. saying
No matter how tall your pockets stand when you ball
Eventually times gonna make you fall
And I as I pull myself together
I don’t wanna end up like the twin towers rubble
I mean no offence to nine eleven but at that time I probably could have used a reverend
But all that’s irrelevant now
because i live with a different perspective now
there you go you made it to the end :-) comment if you like, constructive criticism wanted as well.
Copyright © pat roswell | Year Posted 2013
I'm not the greatest of all-times, but when I'm done,
I'll be an all time great in this lifetime of mine
Like the late great who came before my time
I will breed a new lifeline, that will breathe life like march of dimes
My story lines, will bring truth life; like troops who fight
Overseas, for rights of those who believe that death is life
Now that ain't right!
As the rich is getting richer, eating fillet me-non, while we barely feeding our appetite
Night after night
Survival has waged a war that gave us no choice but to battle and fight
Although, we'll be all right
They say we a dying breed, but that ain't right
Instead we're the light to a lying greed
That will enlighten life to a brand new seed
A man of God indeed
Freed from the Son that bleeds
Like the summer breeze
He's the sum that equals the amount of air I breathe
The air that please
A satisfaction like the birds and the bees
My word's words are the keys
That will fornicate with the mind and give birth to a seed
A seed of social change, that'll change our social economy
So shall our comradery
That will bring comfort to a struggling society
A synonym...similar to a civilization seeking for unity
Unifying the physics of theory
That seeks to explain the synopsis of a dying philosophy
Similar to the Cosby
X-cept my scrip-tic will speak more about our reality
Like life's calamity
And everything else in life that's destroying us systematically
However, I've discovered a system
That can mathematically destroy ignorancy
And turn our state of mind intellectually
I elect that He (God) selects me to be
And be that man who may lead this community
So that they (My Peoples) may commute with me
En-route to a destination, destine towards our destiny
Like we were destine to be
We were meant to be "Great" like the late great that came before we.
Because we are...
The reflection where perfection gave birth to the definition of greatness
Where great means Competent, Skilled, Well Informed, and Tremendous
Our potentials are endless
And only we not even the enemy can put an end to this
So it's time we put a stop to this
The biggest enemy of self
And that's envy and jelousness
Cause after this is Heaven or Hell and that's all there is
A promised made sealed with a kiss
Is the next best thing since "In the beginning"
In the first chapter of the first verse in Genesis!
Copyright © Ajalon Michael Zarate | Year Posted 2013
A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast
Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds
Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are
Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs
Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens
#Poem by +Gokul Alex
Copyright © Gokul Alex | Year Posted 2013
To be innocent is to be entirely unknown, even to oneself.
- Djuna Barnes
I am free at last to be silent, to lap
In the quiet of your promise of promise
Like the pear tree in the garden which feels
But does not ask, why such beauty here?
On rainy monsoon days locked in
Wanting to explore the sea and the galaxy,
The tree beseechingly asking the rain,
That I may not be gauged from your gaze,
To be by one companion remembered,
Name scratched out on the asylum walls.
As I was cancelling out ideals
I saw in the forest the tumult of life.
The remorse of a nymph once a virgin,
The stars were there, but of accidental origin.
from IN MEMORY OF HER
Copyright © Rosemarie Rowley | Year Posted 2015
Meddlesome acknowledgement was my gift to many
I wondered where the nutrients were coming from
I was absorbing your words, parched by my own dimming light-years
There I was stunned by the legion of black-faced martyrs
Exasperation of the undeniable misunderstanding of every conceivable word
Left me with another path onto death
And not nearly dying, but regenerating in technological, factorial woe
Demon thoughts squeezed bile from the brim of subconscious drivel
Accelerating the ghouls from the gull of my esophagus
I was held down from the dreams of the fortnight
From words of architecture ascending from the brims of the archangels
Eyes remained closed
And I felt the actual descent of my downfall
I did not open my eyes at all
I did not mean to pry into your life, oh beautiful soul
Please accept my gift today
My fierce gaze into your lavishing grail
Led me to accept and love where I often fail
I am no longer smothered in your intricate designs
Though I am surely small to you
Though I feel only a fraction of a fool
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
I am the hidden spark under the timbers of lies
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
When wind’s silence
heralds boundless oblivion
and the trembles of cracked earth
raise the dust of tears
dried by the boundless footfalls
of sallow flesh
When a thread of gold
brings unearthly thought
and the misconception
of suns fallen
drives foolish men to their knees
in unending tremors
An army of one
frees the air from his fingertips
and stays not his opal blade
as it bites the rotted gray necks
of kings released from their wrongful bliss
by his trembling palms
An army of one
unconstrained by nature’s volume
freed by the sin of his naivety
yet, bound by earth’s oldest secret
as the scarlet sun weeps
its bloodied tears
An army of one
his cloak worn through
by the acid blood of his deception
and his bones stilled;
the branches of a dying oak
which no longer caress the wind
Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015
Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less
My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less
I cringed for originality
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less
Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
Hummingbird soar with your tiny might
Great red fuchsias are at bloom again
Red purity so beguiling a call so bright
Brings you forth to carry your aim
To help propagate new life next spring
Nature's awakening call will always 'ring'
Diane M Quinlan
Artist & Poet
Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015
The Tumid River of Acheron (the journey)
Part One- Final revision
Darkly, the tumid rushing waters flow
where any man most wisely fears to go.
Liquid blackness singing in epic pain
torture, misery and cries of the insane!
Echoes of Eperius in the far West,
shadow realm where evil shall never rest.
Black ship of Kharon does eternally sail
into the sunless land of a dark hell.
Land of those lost , family and dear friend
exists for all wicked women and men!
Black abyss where Apollo never walks,
lost souls ripped apart by demonic hawks.
Forever filled and by rowboat conveyed
miserable, crying souls are relayed.
Crossing the tarn of Acheron then,
cursing future torments for all lost men.
Seething waters that ever separate,
those so damned, lost to future tortured Fate.
Father of evil waters from which sprang,
the river Styx of which man's curses rang.
Flowing stream holding back evil so foul,
where agonizing spirits scream and howl.
Acheron, seething lake of scorching heat
where demons slash into the souls they eat!
Delivered shadows fall onto prayers cast,
vanity briefly soothed, but never lasts.
Prayers sinking quickly like river cast stones,
dreams forming into ghastly skin and bones!
Waters that wrap around Hades evil realm
with Daimon, evil dark Lord at the helm.
Gushing forth from solid bowels of rock,
rushing blackened waters rising to shock.
Upon its moving mass of wretched stink
poison so lethal no mortal man may drink.
Kharon, the ferryman stands at the oars
delivering the lost upon those dark shores.
Far below the Mariandyni coast,
Acheron ferries victims to its host.
Loaded within spirits of cries and moans
Kharon laughs at all the misery groans!
Set upon southern shore of the black sea
in sun's light never again will they be.
Many dark tales of Acheron's fame,
fallen victims weeping in sin and shame.
Moans rising as dark waters deliver,
the wretched lost to painfully quiver.
In this dark abhorrent , torturing Hell
lost souls living in lustful sin had fell.
Robert J. Lindley, (revised) - 04-10-2015
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
10 10 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 480
Total # Lines: 48
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 321
Note: This is part one. The journey into HADES
by way of crossing the Styx. The river Styx is
actually an off shoot of Acheron that splits into
the Styx and the Cocytus.
Part two now has two lines written. It will be titled ,
Hades and Tormented Souls (the Dwelling)..
I have no preset limit to the second part, may be
longer or shorter. I suspect it will be even longer.
I hope the readers enjoy this write. I wanted to do
something dark and move away from all my love, romance
and Nature writes. A bit of variety to stir my
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
Life is like a hurricane.
Life, is like a heavy rain.
A lake of pain like lake Baikal.
Tears, flow like a waterfall.
People are like granite stone;
in the end your'e left alone.
But what of the good things?
Like the sound of when a church bell rings?
Or the miraculous, beautiful way
one helps another through troublesome day?
Tragedies of life aren't fun,
but in the end we learn a ton.
Though pain we do remember,
the flame eventually turns to ember.
You see, the thing about walking through earth each day,
is The King turns the curse to a healthy pathway.
Copyright © Aleesha Rothering | Year Posted 2013
Screw my father
that I never knew.
If you take the blame
screw you, too.
Help my family
my Mom, Grandparents, and my Brother.
Let them live happily,
and get along with one another.
When I leave
I hope people will will remember me.
I will believe.
Screw everyone who disagrees.
Let God rise
and let him take his final prize.
Let him free this earth from crime and lies.
If someone dies
I just hope someone cries.
I hope we all grow old
till we are ninety five.
If you're still alive
Will you remember me?
Will I be in you're memory?
Let the kids
who used to beat me up
in the street
from my head
to my feet.
When they die and go to hell,
and start to bleed.
Baptize me in their blood
cure other people with their love
this rhyme will start a flood.
Copyright © Blake Holland | Year Posted 2016
In the wee hours
when night bid adieu
sleep still residing in the lashes
refusing a formal withdrawal.
The canvas of horizon
turned an abstract painting
when soft rays of golden hue
sketch freshness of morning.
A stroll through the meadow
while sipping the dawn of wine
I paved darkness with my glance
as my whole being was in trance.
The moment was splendour
and I was in real wonder.
I saw tiny dew drops shed
from the bosom of nature.
It spreads on grass tips
as dancing glisten of pride.
Each droplet dangling with poise
Soberly carry a melancholic voice.
Their discreet pain goes unnoticed
as their beauty is hypnotized.
But their agonies often unheard
midst of fuzzy wind that is loud.
Despite, the muted sob conveys their woe
‘How they cling onto their fragile life’?
Did anyone ever notice?....
Copyright © Maaya Dev | Year Posted 2015
Don't forget to cross the Ts
and dot your Is
because if you don't do that
they're just lines vertical on a page.
Lets us forget about the imperfect words
that make us cry
the vertical lines,
like jail bars hold us back.
Stand up and out and roar like a lion!
she is mine, I love her,
but I am quiet,
held back by the vertical lines
the black oily jail bars,
that keep my hear caged in
everytime I cry and people don't listen
the guard taps his nightstick upon
the vertical bars,
the imperfect feelings of pain and sadness
feeling like this it bores me
feeling like this makes me sick
and I feel myself wanting to vomit
and shake the nervous feeling
of falling into a dark hole,
so I sit behind these vertical lines,
like cocaine lines, ready to snort up your nose,
like cigarettes lined in a perfect and neat row,
like empty wine and beer bottles
littering around my feet.
The vertical lines take me away from reality,
close my already blinded eyes
with a black blindfold.
These jail bars cross my soul,
chain my the ankles and wrists,
and choking me, holding my head under water,
I can't breath!!! Help me!
These vertical bars hold me back in life,
hold my emotions from coming out,
to tell you how I feel for you!
I no more want vertical lines,
I want to be free.
Drive horizontal roads that wined and turn around beautiful mountains
too take a deep breathe and share the beauty
to watch the horizontal horizon.
Too sit on a beach shore and write till the sun goes down
and the mermaids sings cheerful tunes
that uplift my spirits and break the remaining vertical lines
that bind and hold my heart in place.
There is nothing beautiful in a straight line,
let alone a vertical one.
Horizontal, vertical all bad in their own ways,
always trapping us, like jail bars or barbwire that streches across the open lands.
Love has no lines,
so why should I have lines that bind me together
holding my head underwater,
till a spark lights a powder keg and blows me sky high
and I finally set myself free
and roam the horizon for ever.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
The creative course of love runs through the veins
By God, it has enveloped my very life in faint luster
It is now an illusion I have mastered and made real
There will be no lies written on my depleting heart
For Doubt was there masked inside the vibrant ball
All told her it was to be a masquerade, and she fell
Yes! Doubt fell into an illusion of trust and feral light
She locked herself away for good that doleful night
While all danced and were joyous in lore and drink
Doubt turned her head to the door of blissful night
And she never looked back; not for a slight moment
Furtively their love grew as vines entwining sea green
Ballets flared inside menace and ghoulish, garish glee
Lonely larks will always sing as far as the eye can see
But Doubt in its dark sings beyond what is you or me
I am in love with her; she is life and something new
And I cringe to speak the truth; oh clandestine mind!
Yes, it was I who had invited Doubt to the vibrant ball
And it was there, without notice, she fell in my arms
In an unforgiving, comatose faint—a revolutionary state
Her face to the door, bleeding black and nothing more
The last moment I stared into her bleak, pale features
Doubt's masquerade I had mastered had at last begun!
The crowd swelling all around me, all in dark costume
Oh, God knew it was only a guiltless, simple gathering
But here they remained—the DEMONS ever smothering
The faces were cruel and their camouflage unforgiving
Doubt had now left me writhing, splitting, crying—LIVING
As crowds danced around my uncovered, sniveling face
The spineless love of my life gone now without a trace
There no drink to drown away the ever-placed sorrow
There no high hopes of inevitable, hopeful tomorrow
There is only today—and today I cruelly, drolly LOVE
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
How queer the color of viscera
squarely foreign in my breast
To be the butcher and grim and goddess
All in one
Leaves identity succinct
Or identifies succinctness
If it has been
Then so it was always before
Therein is 'Peace'
Reposed and eyes rolling
Great, vacant saucers on vertiginous axis
She is quite the swollen beast
And on all fronts, she is terrible
If only you'll watch you may notice her growth
A malignant sort
An unwelcome appendage
I'd dash it out but I've already gone
Too pale and dogged in life to succumb
I curse her tenacity
She has a sister, I think
Or maybe a child
A child who lives down deep in my chest
A child who shrieks and tears down the walls
Perhaps she dislikes their pattern
Copyright © Chelsea Westerfield | Year Posted 2013
Where is the nation which speaks love ,
where are the spirits which kept us above ,
where can we find the solution for grime ,
like a tiny mosquito committing a crime ,
where the air around lives in a coal miners lung - ,
serving all mankind , till the singers sung ,
darkness our future – remains in our fate ,
hard striking sweats – prove together very late .
Love is far found under the graves ,
humanity is flown in the melodious waves ,
lacking all words – but we act very brave .
Sum up the words – saving bloody lives ,
bawl , cheer , and glamour – forging against the knives ,
clutch on the oldie – seeking truth till you dive .
Copyright © Mohammed Rakibul Hossain | Year Posted 2014
It ripples and waves.
Its soothing to the touch and it runs over your body like an invisible blanket.
When life is too much to take I run to the water.
I've thought about lost loved ones over the view of the ocean.
As the waves ran over my toes and pulled back it was as if God was telling me I'm here.
I see your pain. I see your passion. In time I will wash them away.
When it rains, it stirs something inside of my heart. I know that as this storm shall pass, so will the trials of life.
The pain will be washed away. All will grow new again.
Pain is water.
Joy is water.
Life it water.
Water is beauty.
Copyright © Misty Hoot | Year Posted 2013
Dark murky in color, worn down.
Twisted pump, no heels.
Suede black uneven shine.
Bumpy not smooth.
No brush to bring back luster.
No light shines its cluster.
Just dull and grey, like
a rain filled day.
Copyright © Marilyn Williams | Year Posted 2015
The stones slipped through the great fingertips of God
Each ligure staked its existence on the four corners of the universe
The quadrivial region began to spin and pull into a sphere
And pathways revealed their footholds
The fourth ligure bravely landed in the midst of history
So that one day the future settlement of the second
Would be moved by the last—by the past
Suffering much it stayed
Manifesting in incandescent words
Thrusting evanescence upon the weak
Selfless, it's sorrow would move the merriest
Would move the unmovable
The third lies in the profound valley of mystical guardians
Star-recruited, they are the very light above the canvas of gray
They embrace the stone—are inspired by the stone
The very reflection of their creator was evident
Upon their unremitting glimmers
Unafraid to stare the others down
Motivated and construed by the glower of death
Eyes move fixedly beyond the simple vast
The second ligure rested upon the shoulders of invisible martyrs
The hopeful power it planted on the sufferers was unbelievable
For spectators used their disbelief to cover their ever-placed envy
They never were part of the battle—they merely watched
Always seeing truth
But they never quite absorbed
Like a rock hitting the water
The inevitable fate was to fly and sink
The first of the ligures settled in the very reservoir of Satan himself
Even the very heart of the devil is marked
Though rebellion embarked
The cold stone landed upon his naked bosom
He despaired not to the pericopal truth the gods had bestowed upon him
He merely despised it
But wished not to lose it
For such a stone to fall upon that dark corner—he felt pride for the gracious wound
In truth, there are twelve ligures of stone
And four were dispersed, dropped into the universe
The last eight the great Eternal wears upon his breastplate
And only He can re-move these ligures
-July 20, 2013-
-For Shadow Himilton's Any Subject Contest-
-Thanks for the inspiration-
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
Rows of thousands buried underneath me.
I can feel them,
their hands reaching out to me.
their bodies beaten with cracked skulls
damaged to no end,
all these things,
..lacking of communication..
all these things in this world.
shows their fight for life.
If I could feel death,
it would be faded.
Now I'm starting to see their position.
Because I've learned how to disappear completely.
This is where I end and you begin,
To fade out, again.
Copyright © Lidija Vresk | Year Posted 2013
Deep breath to shake it
Cold chill slivers down fast
Beating against cage of heart
Cage of body
Cage of soul
Legs begging to run
Heart aching to be free
Truth to self
aching to be seen
Sweet scent of dry savannah plains
Sharp smell of thorny veins
The aroma of Africa surrounds
Scents sights sounds
In these home is found
Snarling at every motion made
Scared but defiant
Blinded by fear and rage
Paws long for endless journeys
On paths walked centuries ago
For elegance in element
A space all her own
Where earth still bleeds red on horizon
Morning and night
Continuing the endless fight
Fight for borderless freedom
The pale yellow green eyes
Dismays the truth inside
But tell the story
Of wild soul
Story to unfold
Copyright © Fierce Malilangwe | Year Posted 2013
It wasn't quick
but it seemed to happen so.
The indecisive thoughts soon became quite clear,
but not exactly as crystal would be.
It's easy to see
why it could be frowned upon;
many have ended hurt,
and even put to eternal rest.
However, she was undaunted;
she knew her misconceptions could only be
A swift turn and a venturesome soul
shaped her into a beautiful love song,
a hysterical vision of black and blue.
Throughout the tough goings
and a shattered lullaby or two,
she settled, though erratic,
into a breathtaking work of art
made of misfortunes and lust.
"Change has come and left,
but it shall never be truly gone,"
She cried in her lucid dreams
of the present.
Copyright © Alexis George | Year Posted 2013