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GhostWhen the lights are out
and the house is quiet,
when yesterday's clothes are strewn about
and the only sound's the creaky picket
fence, when everyone's asleep,
I finally wake up.
I go through my routine:
drink tea from my favorite cup,
read a magazine - stories on deep
sea creatures (ghostly and alien-like),
fold the still unsorted clean
linen, with stitched-in names, Mike
and Jane, names I don't quite remember.
I go through the drawers
and smell the bunches of lavender
tucked between the shirts, his n' hers.
Sometimes I get close to the beds
(on my tippy toes though no one
can hear me) and watch the children slumber,
their chests rise and fall, stunned
at how alive they look while asleep, how red
their cheeks and kips can be even when the sun
is nowhere to be seen. Alive, asleep, unencumbered.
In a moment of foolish bravery, as though on a mission,
I startle myself: I kiss Mike and Jane's
untroubled brows. They feel nothing,
perhaps a slight coolness, a breeze. The pain's
all mine, th
Merry-go-roundI can't get off this merry-go-round.
Every time I try to dismount the horse
I nearly tumble to the ground.
So I hold on for dear life; the sound
of the carousel becomes a dizzying force.
I can't get off this merry-go-round.
Like a fox hiding from bloodhounds,
I am frozen. I have no recourse.
I nearly tumble to the ground.
From every side I am surrounded;
I search for an exit, I cry myself hoarse.
I can't get off this merry-go-round.
So there it is, my life an endless circle - I'm bound
to keep repeating the same mistakes. I can't change course -
I'll certainly tumble to the ground.
Worse than the old dreams in which I drowned,
fear overtakes me, my past filled with remorse.
I can't get off this merry-go-round;
I know I'll tumble to the ground.
SpriteI cried myself to sleep last night,
the muffled sobs were dampening
the pillow, tears expanding
into lakes - and then, a light
shone through the window - a sprite
descending from the sky. Her green
translucent wings paused between
each fluttering to slow her flight.
She landed gently on the sill,
the steady rhythm of her wings
echoing my whimpering
coming to a standstill.
The sprite held out her glowing white
wand and whispered words, serene
and kind, and stars shot out, a scene
from another world, a sight
I couldn't, wouldn't miss. I willed
my eyes to dry and caught the sprinkling
stars on my tongue like falling
snow until I'd had my fill.
I lay in bed and stared at bright
suspended fairy dust twinkling,
winking at me as she flew, circling
me. I closed my eyes, enjoyed the quiet
water running through the stream
outside, the slowly flapping wings
above my head, all sounds leading
me to finally sleep and dream.
CrackMy favorite teacup has a crack in it,
a hairline fracture stained brown
by all the tea I drink in it.
Sometimes I wonder if the tea will seep
through, if the cup will be forever half empty,
but I still use it.
I study each of the painted ravens
flying on the rim, ready to take off
into the air.
One day, I took the cup
and poured some tea -
earl grey - and stirred the sugar in.
I tapped the spoon on the edge
of the cup - it made a chiming sound.
I brought the cup up to my mouth
and drank. I hit a snag -
a tiny chip cut my lip.
Blood dripped down my chin
and into the tea.
The sharp sting and iron smell
overwhelmed me. I dropped the cup
and just before it broke,
the ravens flew away and disappeared.
Untitled promptIt is hard to move wearing this dark, heavy cloak,
wet and sagging, dragging on the ground
amassing debris, leaving a muddy trail behind.
I trip, ripping the seam on a sharp snag;
I tug at the fabric still caught
in the jagged branches, shredding it,
threads running the entire length
of this musty velvet cloak.
I wipe the blood of my hands
and dirt from my brow
and shed this outer layer
Here I am:
naked, uncloaked, unburdened.
untitled project part 4They went into Sir Henrys study and lightly shut the door, but the draft pushed it back an inch. I knew it wasnt becoming, but curiosity got the better of me - again.
I thought we settled this matter, said James.
Not quite, replied his brother. Though for the time being, you are determined to be unreasonable. I know, I know. We must help her. But for how long, James? And how do we know she is who she says she is?
But she hasnt said, has she? She lost her memory.
Did she really? How can we be sure? For all we know, it could be a ploy.
A ploy to do what? James said, incredulously. I thought I heard him snicker.
I dont know, replied his brother. Clothes, food and shelter seem like a pretty good deal to me.
Oh for Gods sake, dont be ridiculous!
James, whispered John, Dont take the lords name in vain. A brie
untitled sestinaWhen the evening turns to night, that dark
velvet blue attenuating the fire
in the sky, at that moment the screams
stop. The children stop moving but for their ragged
breaths. A soft silence sweetly kisses
my face and dissolves into the air, never
leaving any trace behind, never
lingering long enough. When it's dark,
the flowers lower their heads, kiss
the ground and find respite before the fire
of the sun awakens them again. Ragged
and still tired, they open their mouths and scream.
I can't bear to see the tulips scream
at me, vivid red, blood red, their never-
ending wails. Sometimes I lay a ragged
cloth on them to contain their dark
dreams and muffle their fiery
voices, poisonous and ravenous kisses.
I wait for the night's delicate kisses,
the warm breeze that brushes the screams
away for a little while, puts out the fire
in our quiet little hearts. The wind never
reveals our secrets, hushes the darkest
thoughts hidden away in our ragged
minds. On the ground, the crunching of ragged
untitled project 1-2-3They were all gathered inside. Warm. Unfettered by any troubles, any omen. Drinking whiskey by the fire, candles everywhere. How happy they seemed.
It was that night that I came into their lives.
I could feel the blood and water slipping on my skin, the sea salt burning the cuts on my arms and legs, the stones digging in my soles.
It was dark and my eyelashes stuck together, but I could still see XXX (name of house to be determined). I could tell it was enormous.
I trudged on, the stones giving way to thick blades of grass yielding to my feet.
I stopped, frozen, under the willow tree. I could hear dogs barking, but I couldn't tell where they were coming from.
A large man came panting from the corner of the house and fired a warning shot with a rifle. I could see it glinting.
"Who's there? This is private property." He turned around, looking for the intruder, looking for me.
He pointed the rifle in my direction.
"You there? Who are you? What are you doing here? What are you doing on
TonguesIn the middle of a
the words will escape me.
They run off together
like children to a playground
and forget to come home.
They are happy and carefree,
never missing me
as I miss them.
At night, they might
wanter off in dark alleys
and get lost
and sometimes I come across
them again by chance,
gather them in my arms
and hope I never lose them again.
And other times, I forget
ever having needed them
in the first place.
The Villain (Bye Bye Mr. Nice Guy)I am desperately seeking someone to save me
Wondering where I have been going wrong
The more I allow myself to be walked over
The more I feel like it’s where I belong
Under the tread marks of your rubber soled shoe
My face has been driven in to the mud
You’ve laced my dignity with so much self doubt
What on earth have I gained from being good
I am desperately seeking something to save me
The next line to the poem of my life
Dissecting my past with clinical precision
Using a pen-shaped surgical knife
With a blade that seems to cut deeper and deeper
Each time that I am wounded or I am hurt
But maybe now is the time to put down my pen
And distribute my anger with more than words
I am desperately seeking something to save me
I feel I’m on the cusp of a rebirth
I will take centre stage and leave you in the wings
There is no more time left to rehearse
I have stiffened the sinews, I have summoned the blood
I face my fears and I’ve made a decision
I can be strong, I can
WordsIt’s when I get my thoughts to rhyme
That I can truly start to see
What has been swirling in my mind,
And then I get to set it free.
A turmoil of chaotic calls
Becomes a desperate, pleading choir
Of thousands of tangled words
Awaiting me to help them thrive.
They cry, and weep, and beg like kids,
Won’t let me drown myself in sleep
Until I give them what they need –
A string of rhythm and sense to grip.
I strive and strive to make them speak
And give them a melodic vibe.
Yet their presence is too weak,
I'm losing hope that they'll survive.
But after stumbling time and time
Again to let them slip away
I start to hear their chime.
I start to see them find a way.
So one by one and step by step
I see them coming up to me.
They join to spin a magic web –
My soul’s true epitome.
And that’s the place they shall remain,
In subtle, fearless accord.
I never thought that I could tame
Such mischievous, capricious words.
So now I’m pacing back and forth
Sweet Music MelodySweet Music Melody lend a mid-night dance to me
Oh what tender lips are these that lay sweet kisses on my cheeks
Making my bashful heart sing...sing...sing
Sweet Music Melody lend a mid-night song to me
Oh what beautiful notes your voice is to a lover's song
beckoning a drifting soul home sweet home
Sweet Music Melody never let your music end
Play your seductive heart's song again and again
Step by step, song by song, you and I are forever one
She Does Not Love YouDo not hear
Her glorious speech
Pretend to be deaf.
Elude her hair
Dancing in the air
Don’t think about
Those sunny eyes
Knowing your past
With just one look.
Avoid her laugh
A melody of harp
Played by angels.
She’s hurting you
Giving you false
When she reveals
All her evil plan
You will be broken
Thinking about suicide.
Bury the memories
With you by her side
Even if they are
The best times
Of your life.
Winds Of TimeThe cool winds of time change from day to day
Yesterday to soon turns into tomorrow
But today is never twice the same
And in heavenly stars I search, but I have yet to find my way
Still, as time marches on, my soul can find no resting place
In the mist of this violent quake
Of many dimensions of being I lies awake
Until the hours of dark meet a brilliant day break
leaving me to, once again ponder an uncertain fate
Four EverSugar coated, and devoted
To the bright side of life.
Optimistic, and artistic
With a blessed soul and mind.
May God bless you, for breaking through
The darkest side of death.
Keep your smile clear, my precious dear
For it brightens the sky.
Writer's ProblemsThis pen feels,
So right in my hand.
With the ability,
To do what only I can.
Ideas fly from my mind,
In a manner, distraught.
But they stick to my pen,
Writers with their problems,
Ideas with their wings.
But take your imagination,
And shoot down the damn things
StargazingCome with me and stay a while
To marvel at the night sky
For darkness brings forth beauty
That daylight might disguise
Oh how the heavens simply teem
With spritely dancing hues
That paint the blackness up above
In purples, pinks, and blues
And did you know that the stars
Are the best at telling a story
About dancing bears or a mighty hunter
Or a hero's road to glory
And the moon sings me to sleep
With a celestial lullaby
And whispers an offer in my ear
To join him in the sky
But then I fall asleep
And the stars still shine
And the colors still dance
And I'll have nothing but these dreams of mine
These dreams that tempt me
To leave this world behind
For a life amongst the stars
Where there's adventure worth to find
But as much as I'd love to go
I know that I must stay
That's why I need you here with me
'Cause I'm afraid I'll drift away
Blaming is for the weakYou blame it all on me
But the truth you do not see
You lied right from the start
Just to win over my heart
You did not act your age
When you turned the other page
We could have worked it out
But now I am in doubt
That you ever really tried
Because all you did was hide
You told a one sided story
Just looking for some glory
Sold a fairy tale
Now I find you are quite stale
Everything you emulate
Is something that I hate
You told me you were strong
Stringing me along
You were afraid of everything
Now I see your broken wing
Thinking of the day
When your troubles fade away
Your refusal to act on them
Leaves you nothing more than a whim
I do not have the time
To be subjected to your crime
Now I can see it's true
That the weak one is you
JungleI am lost in my own murky mind,
a thick and balmy jungle teeming
with tiny parasites. I find
myself confined without
a compass, nor a sun beaming
its guiding light on me. I doubt
I will find my way, but still
I cut the overreaching
branches -- alien hands poised to scratch and kill
with sticky leaves dripping venom and bile --
clearing a path, to where I don't know...
The fog is dense and the vile
stench of dung worsens with rain.
I stumble in a puddle and notice
the moon's reflection, disappearing again
as the darkening clouds meet the mist.
A silence blankets everything
and muffles my cries, numbs my clenched fists.
I am trapped in my own murky mind,
a thick and balmy jungle with no exit.
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