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Late Evening, July You and I, world – I think we have the same heart;Late Evening, July by *ProvenParadox
I think that you've got the same crazy bits stuck
Right behind everything you're made of.
You've got the same contradiction as I do
And I think I've gotten muddled in exactly the same way.
It's the most beautiful muddling. The prettiest one
That you could have.
It's the wind over the dry grasses and the white pine
And the hills of sandstone and old men's dying farms.
And it's the late night drives into nowhere
And the look of the joyful befuddlement.
And I think, world, that you and I
And all the other muddled people out there –
We'll get along all right. And maybe, I
The Three Songs The First SongThe Three Songs by *ProvenParadox
The first song is easy; it is the song of magic and love. It is a song for the world and, therefore, it is the sort of thing you hear murmuring through the streets late at night or in the hum of young people dancing. I first heard it long ago; I was travelling deep into the recesses of my mind, and I discovered the image of myself. It was like a mirror, but one that was thousands of years old. Rather than bother him, the image that is, I decided to just watch. And to just see where he might be going.
The image of myself was walking
Triton It was a story about the ocean, great and powerful and sad;Triton by *ProvenParadox
And the little boy who lived in the surf and played in the waves;
A little boy who had learned to swim deep with the whales
And sing their song.
As the ages past, the sea filled with other noises:
The crush of machines washed away the music,
The nets clutched for fish,
And he was very alone.
And one day he ended up on the shore with nothing;
With his entire story drying away in the sun.
So he put his ear to a conch shell and listened.
And he heard a sound that he'd almost forgotten;
He thought about his grandmother and grandfather
And the whales and the great sea beasts
The Cartographer's Daughter Every night, he would fold her into his arms before she slept. Creases grew into her, turning brown with wear, and she loved them. When she woke up in the night, dreaming of darkness, he would take her to his desk and draw for her a map of her face, turning it into another world. Tracing the contours of her smile, he would scrawl a warning, "Here be monsters", whispering to her that she was a dragon when angry.The Cartographer's Daughter by *ClioStorm
As she grew older, she populated his maps with creatures and peoples from the books she read, or her own creations. He taught her to draw, and to write with an old inkpen, in a cursive script her teacher could make neither head nor ta
I Do Love You My life changed when I met her, and I know hers did as well. We were like two magnets – inevitably drawn to each other because it's just the way nature has it. We couldn't deny it, and we didn't want to. I thought I knew what love was, but I was wrong. I didn't know anything before I met her.I Do Love You by *KyeWriting
&#
To forget... I never want to forget.To forget... by ~Avangelina
I will forever hear the heart-wrenching cries she sobbed into my shoulder as I whispered farewell into her ear.
The image of the gentle tears sliding down his cheeks, bleeding red as his aching heart, will forever play on the inside of my eyelids whenever I close them.
It hurts.
It hurts me every day.
He broke his silence, his manly stature, to cry like a child into my equally shaking arms.
She replaced her plastered smile, which I had always thought would never be able to be removed, with an expression of pure pain and torture as though I had stolen her soul.
Who would want to remember seeing these two figures
A Perpetrator's Revelation Bzzzz…Bzzzz…Bzzzz…Bzzzz…A Perpetrator's Revelation by ~Schandlich
The light outside won't stop flickering…. The city blinks its eyes, breathes. The natives blemish her with dice and bullets and little piles of cocaine and sex, left as hand-me-downs for the next generation to grow into. She endeavors to rise up and pry the people from out of her seedy womb with murder and pestilence. They strong-arm and bruise her face with plows and new malls. They're free as birds down there. Free to rape the concrete with graffiti and massacre common sense among thousands.
I justify to myself that "We're not different. We just don't co
The Episode "Ohayou gozaimasu!"The Episode by ~Yitik
Quiz starts. "Ohayou gozaimasu, sensei."
"Ogenki desu ka?"
I learned this stuff ages ago. "Genki, hai." Years ago. "Sensei wa?" This is easy.
Little nod. Too many nods. "Hai, doumo. Onamae wa?"
Centuries ago. "Namae wa…" Eyebrows. Two of them, probably. Maybe more in the background? "Namae wa…" Way too many nods. "Momotose…"
She starts to say something, but it's all slowed down. I know what it is before it comes out, and I have a long time to think about what I'm going to say instead. How I will interrupt her. "No," I say.
Mo
Sloth, Wrath, and Greed "I will kill you," whispered the woman into his ear. Her breath was hot, and she watched him squirm as she puffed into his ear. She tugged harder on the piece of cloth around his neck, violently jerking his head upward. He gagged as his face turned red then blue as he choked.Sloth, Wrath, and Greed by ~MysticFay
A strong hand yanked the cloth free, and he dropped to his knees, gasping for air. The woman howled, and he half-expected her to jump on him and slam his face into the dirt. But she continued to
prose |prōz| noun • written or spoken language in its ordinary form, without metrical structure : a short story in prose | [as adj. ] a prose passage. |
Eucalyptus i. Blue is the color of my veins, but lately I've been pumping more black than red, more maybes than yeses, more footsteps than flight patterns.Eucalyptus by *IndigoSkyes
ii. I started counting that very first night. My shirt plaid, buttons escaping from their holes like necks slipping from their flannel nooses. Your eyes were shooting stars and I knew that this was going to be different.
iii. When you said goodbye instead of goodnight, I felt the butterflies die in the gas chambers of my heart.
iv. It rained today, drowned worms lying limp, guts spilled like secrets on the leaf-slick sidewalk. I paused beneath an oak, with my eucalyptus hair and kohl-smudged eyes,
Dystopia I.Dystopia by *slyfry
Leaves burn to cinders
To sate an addiction—
Ashes to be flicked off a cylinder,
Then to fall to the ground and be blown away
By a whimsical wind.
Who would weep for the tobacco leaves?
They who are birthed in a flourish of green to flower and seed,
Torn off, desiccated, and packed in the pulp of trees,
Then consumed in the flames of avarice…
Let them take the airs away.
Do not forget,
They are of the Nightshade!
II.
The collies have grown complacent
Their shepherd has gone to fat
His crook lost ages ago...
They play with the sheep,
But lead them nowhere.
They bark and snarl and nip at the heels,
And never al
Achromatic Dreams today, god gave me present.Achromatic Dreams by *UnspecifiedUnknown
-
i.
stilted windows, white bones
decaying lungs and my mind races
at the rate of a lone moth's jaded wings
we taste better alone
ii.
clemency is earned
by the damned, by the damned
arbitrary sacrifices
we belong to nobody
iii.
and she bowed with artless grace
kissed the sky, shed stardust tears
choked on angelic moonshine
we draw our own constellations
-
today, i gave god presence.
The Truth You ask for my name, yet, what is my name?The Truth by ~dragonwolfgirl1234
Is it the one I was given,
The one placed upon me at birth?
Or be it hidden from me?
Is my name, my real name
One that is too dangerous or shocking to reveal?
Maybe our names are right there,
Before our eyes,
But our sould are too deep within ourselves,
Too far ti see the truth,
You ask for my name,
I will tell you the one I was given,
But inside I will keep my truth.
Atoll If there is a way of quenching bitterness I have not found itAtoll by *williamszm
Nor have I dreamt it
You may have seen me searching in the salt-seas of anguish
But if some cure belongs to the coral floor
Or in a silver scale flashed by
A watchful eye, hidden in the murky rocks
I do not know it.
What kind of watchfulness have I expended
Always searching and appeasing, never seeing?
Forgive me what I do not know, forgive me I
Forget sometimes
Whether red and yellow should be mixed to make
A poison-fish, or whether green and blue
Become the ocean better than the muck
Of sand and driftwood.
If there is a way of going that is my own way
Tell me
For
poetry |ˈpōətrē; ˈpōitrē| noun • literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature : he is chiefly famous for his love poetry. |
Death of Cu Chulainn Still your hand holds a swordDeath of Cu Chulainn by =MirachRavaia
Still enemies shiver
Still death didn't take hold
Your blood is a river
Still in your veins it flows
And burns like a fever
But now your brave heart slows
Though standing you remain
Like avaiting more blows
So a hero is slain
Belt keeps you on your feet
Tied to stone with blood-stain
Soon you'll your father meet
After a raven lands
And your heart stops to beat
Though saying farewell to mortal lands
True warrior does not bow, but stands
Black Bird. Black bird of grace,Black Bird. by ~thewritingthimble
followed by darkless faith,
absorb the light of the silver moon,
to light the cockels of your soul,
let your eyes become a beacon,
to show the world your glittering aura,
and prove to all,
that dark wings can conceal
even the most admirable being.
Black bird of grace,
you've shown them all,
you brim with loyalty, love and life,
you have succeeded in what they cannot,
now you can continue to let your heart fly,
protected in your canopy of lightless wings,
but continue to shine through those bright eyes.
Black bird of grace,
I plea to you,
help my sparrow to hide in night,
help him to escape this earth bo
Moonbites - Morsures de lune (version francophone plus bas)Moonbites - Morsures de lune by =Wordeea
Moonbites
Under indigo clouds
My skin glows and quivers.
I smell the rain on the ground;
Taste it on the tip of my tongue.
Green, grassy, earthy drops
Slide along my throat;
Gather like acid on my chest.
Swirl around, dig a hole
Between my breasts.
When the stars finally fall asleep
I become alive with moonlight.
Stand on my toes, kiss the sky,
Dance in the pale blue light.
Nothing burns like the cold
Of a warm summer night.
-----------------
Morsures de lune
Sous les nuages bleu-nuit
Ma peau luit et frémi
Je sens la pluie sur le sol
La savoure sur le bout de ma langue
De grosses gout
Au Revoir You never really had an ending... But then you never really did have a proper beginning.Au Revoir by ~faerie-elfmaiden
Maybe that's why you want to see him now. Because you want to put a proper end to this. You want to be able to look at him straight and not feel your heart flutter. You want to be able to look into his eyes and smile without your cheeks flushing pink. You want to be able to text him and not care if he replies just a tad too late. And most of all, you want to stop feeling so, so conflicted because both of you deserve better.
Closure. It's all you want. So you take a deep breath and approach him. His back is to you - he probably doesn't know you're there
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