[x]

I Am a WriterI am a writer.
Yes, it’s easy for me to fall into a dream.
But there is nothing wrong with being tighter
With a story’s theme.

I am a writer.
That is all I will ever want to be
In the end, my story will be lighter,
And my characters will finally be free.

I am a writer.
There is nothing easier to say than that.
I will never let a story wither
Nor let a story fall flat

I am a soon to be author.
With several books ready to be read,
I want them to have great honor
And wish there will be tears shed.

To HooverHoover state: waking up to sleep
because that’s all I’m good for;
out of work, out of time again
and my brother won’t spare a dime.

Blanket sweat reminds me of this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in depressions of this planet;
the moon weeps for me in daytime.

I yank my pockets out, like it's
my country's flag; punch-line of the
Hoover state: waking up to sleep
in my sagging skin on decline.

I've no penny to my name,
jumping out the window (one
last time) makes me worth more in this
Hoover state: waking up to sleep.

Twinkle StarTwinkle twinkle little star
Noone cares just who you are
When you fall the fall is far
Twinkle twinkle superstar.

The Soldier's Letter To HomeI write this from my death bed
My eyes fading in the light
Drowned in crimson red,
Drowned in shaking fright.
The enemy has won
The war now has ended
And though killed by my son
May his sins be ammended.
For this is Civil War
I cannot change the tide
So from you I implore
Do what is right.

Bury me somewhere nice
Near, and fair to look at
And forgive my son his sins;
For in war, no one wins.

Take Death's HandI do not fear Death.
My life has been long enough.
It's time I take my last breath.
I shall not rebuff.
Death stands by my side,
his hand extended for me to take.
His face is veiled like that of a bride.
This life I now forsake
as Death takes me away.
I do not regret
for I am free of the fray.
Please do not fret
for I am okay.

Continuous VoicesIt all began when I was ten
I found what lingered in my head disturbing
And it wasn’t until I grabbed a pen
And saw what truly lingered when I began writing.

There were continuous voices within my head
I was not one to favor them dead
Although, they had violet images attached
The way I wrote them matched.

Since then, the voices have changed
Octaves have risen and lowered
Their words have exchanged
And eventually became uncensored.

These continuous voices have brought war
Ones with an uprising roar
And at moments I want to kill the sound
For they are so profound.

Yet, they continue to crescendo
And welcome me to a hidden story
And so

Aur si plumbUn gând de aur, dar se simte
mai greu ca un pumnal de plumb
ce intră-n coaste, se învârte,
și caută să iasă prin minte...
Stilou de aur, scrie versuri,
dar lasă urme ca de plumb,
pe foi mânjite de cerneală,
și de cafea, și alte resturi...

Un glonţ de aur, dar se simte
mai tandru ca o zi de plumb,
îl pun aici, închid capacul,
și ca un gând, îl scot prin minte.

EndlingHere am I, the captive thylacine
Treading my tiger-striped, ungainly way
Around the metal-mesh confinement of my cage
Here am I, exhibited, exhumed
Brought from the brink to pace another day
A living testament, a final thumbmarked page
Here am I, the only specimen
Bereft of mate, of pups, of kin, of kind
Watching the claws of history extending
Here am I, the final thylacine
The only one, the last, the lost, the endling.

ContrariwiseSilly little Alice,
Forget all you thought you knew,
For deep inside your head,
Everything is all askew.

If they tell you that one plus one,
Equals twelve and half, my dear,
Don't worry yourself about it,
For two is so last year.

Don't even try to be different,
Or it'll be "Off with her head!",
And you'll find it's better to live a lie,
Than it is to end up dead.

So heed this socially accepted advice,
Ditch any scraps of your insanity,
To cavort with the Hare in March,
Join the Hatter for a cup of tea.

Fritter your days away,
Dancing under a Cheshire moon,
Don't mind the surrounding chaos,
Ignore impending doom.

But even as you join in

Who Was HeHe stood at the average height for men.
His built was quite average.
His eyes were that of cyan.
Nonetheless, he was average.

His hair was that of blonde,
Nearly, white.
His walk and personality had a great bond.
He was a confident sight.

His skin was a delicate peach.
His muscles were quite firm.
So irresistible, a teasing reach.
His appearance had its own term.

One that the dictionary cannot confirm.

Who was he?
That man with his own sea?
He was one without a name.
His appearance was a taunting game.
He was one without a number for an age.
Forget it, he’s fake on this page.

SuicideThere's no blood on her hands
Bullet holes in the door
Nothing but colored pills
And her lying on the floor

You look at her face
There's despair in her eyes
And you wonder what she thought
As she fell and died

And maybe you're begging her to come back
And maybe you're asking why she let go
The hurt in your chest feels like a heart attack
And now you finally know

Maybe you could've helped her
If you'd looked past your own nose
Maybe she'd be alive now
You had a chance, this is what you chose
Now maybe you'll learn from things
That you didn't see
Maybe you'll open your eyes
And rescue him, or her, or me
Maybe she cried a prayer
For the oth

WarWhen stories of battle are shared,
They are full of fame and glory.
No one knows what war really holds,
That is, until they hear this story.
At first there is much excitement,
Your chance to be a hero.
Then homesickness begins to set in,
The sorrow makes you feel like zero.
Then the supplies get cut off,
Your stomach cries out for food.
It rains then it droughts, and then you want out,
You'd laugh at your situation but you're not in the mood.
No sanitation, no garbage cans,
You are living in human waste.
The tents are torn up, the beds full of lice,
You wish you were in a different place.
Then you finally go to fight,
This is your chance to prove yourself.
All your comrades are shot down,
So much for fame and wealth...
Cleaning up the bodies,
Of those who used to be your friends.
Not even time for a proper burial,
Too many injuries to attend.
Then there's the sneak attack,
You are all caught by surprise.
A brutal, bloody, massacre,
A bullet between your eyes.
In this little game o

One WindowOne window is all I need
To see the world for what it truly is
With my mind a system of creed.
My talent can depict or dismiss
This world of goals, so hear my heed.

I sit down beside a journal,
My fingers clutching a pencil.
I will make my character’s life spiral
And send them off to a council
Where they must advance through the next trial.

One window is all I need
To watch them afar a long, hazy field,
Where I can study their speed
Of understanding when they will yield
Of life, itself, so they need to hear my heed.

My character’s goal,
As well as mine,
Is to be whole
And see how bright life can shine
Even through the darkness

Oh, Holy FatherOh, Holy Father above, please hear me tonight,
Give me the strength to continue the fight
Against the evil that lies within my heart –
Purify me, let me bleed and tear me apart.
Cleanse me, I beg of you, set my soul free
From the demons that have such a hold on me.
I am a man, a mere mortal, dedicated and just,
I steer clear from sinners and am not swayed by lust.
I am loyal and honest and faithful and true,
And, in my time of need, I turn to you.
I am wounded and broken and on my knees, I pray,
Save me before the sun greets another day.
Protect me from the darkness, let my torment end,
So I can be your Man of God once again.

What may be a dream?Oh, what may be a dream but wishes mute?
Those thoughts that dance and prance a time or two?
The silent longings of the heart set free
To lift the spirit from chambers dark and cold.
A dream is as a morning mist of spring;
Refreshing, light, and gently promising
To all who sleep and wake in time to catch
The welcome peace and glory they behold.
But woe to waking hours; the bitterness they bring
When dreams escape the loving hold of thought!
The plaintive heart starts longing once again
To sink into the realms of possibility.

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Moment of ChangeA single leaf falls silently without protest
Slowly descending from its solid perch that once was its keeper
Twirling amidst the empty air devoid of all worldly concerns
Ice laden wind tumbling over itself in quiet competition
Once vibrant viridian blades lay stiffly straining towards the gray-scale sky
White-powder frost clings to the ground, seemingly shed by the falling of an angel
The tedious leaf falling from grace flashes hues of warmth as it flies
Settling with its brothers and sisters in the blanket of the fallen
Heralding the end of the Great Fall, all the forest's cover at rest
Frost-kissed trunks with brown-shingled bark s

Lady in RedIt sits aloft on its tiny throne
A brilliant golden blossom of May
Surveying the microcosmos below
Illuminated by the sun come out to play

Simple veridian stilted stem
With hair-wisp roots grasping as far as they dug
Precariously supports the glorious throne
Of the simple ladybug

Crimson and tar collide
Partitioning the domed back
Displaying a light-hearted battle of colors
Of which this lackluster beauty does not lack

Wings of black night unfurl and flitter forth
Petals unwavering to the insiginificant gust
Rising into the sunlit air, dry and welcoming
The freedom of flying its own sudden lust

Warm breezes knock the humbly ro

My GirlA girl I met once in my class
We never talked or said much to each other
Besides the occasional "hey"
Yet one day she took my hat
And we started to talk
For by taking my hat
She ended up taking my heart
In love I fell swiftly
For she was a genuine gal
A girl who lives up to no one but herself
She was not innocent
She was not guilty
She was never burdened by sadness
She was never mad with glee
She talked about anything and everything
Throwing her inner heart out unto me
I listened and offered my arm for support
We spent so much time together
We fought
We hugged
We laughed
We cried
We held hands
We turned our backs
We wh

The BridgeIt lays before me in silent defeat
A lonely bridge that slinks low to the water
Dark glistening ripples cascade among ebony waves
Lapping away at the cracking concrete pylons
Only the rigid integrity of man-made honor
Still supports the weary path laid out before me
Blackened tar and asphalt meld together in cracks
Cracks that dart along the dusty concrete in an eternal race
Dashing among the crumbling grey and the faded dashes of yellow
They weave together intertwining one another's fate
Racing on to the edge of eternity

A small puddle of glistening droplets rest in a slight depression
The black chrysalis of a surface reflecting

Queen of Hearts: Becomer of Death *Commission*Child of shadows brought on by light
Daughter of none yet all
Mistress of the pain resisting an end
Conjurer of panic and fear

Darkness calls beckoning the name
Name of an age
A lifetime
Subsisting on the shadows of the living

Life has never come
Death is forever forgotten
The tip of a silvery blade etched in the minds of few
Remembering death's welcoming embrace

Twisting and turning and claiming
All life false in existence
Dance of death never-ending
Forever returning to heed the master's call

Moonlight fades to nothing
Revealing the form of the Queen
Hair and lace of bloody flames
A figure tired and withered away

Black t

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Submitted: January 13
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Oh! Minion

by ~BetweenSkill, Jan 13, 2013, 6:02:28 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Oh! little minion
How dost though stir out from nothingness
To creep about the ground stained with your comrades
Shuffling with stubby steps
Clothed in the color of your deathless devotion
One that leads to inevitable demise
Only to have yet another form spring into animation
To rise and fall in mindless task

Oh! little minion
Are you scared of the death you always must meet
The lack of fear grip frightening to you
When the arcane tower alights with your imminent doom
A crackling, blazing, blue blob of death
To smite your form hidden from vision underneath thine robes
Perhaps being nothing but a face to hideous to witness
Or an apparition of naught but air
Neither of which you refuse to bear witness to

Oh! little minion
Why do my inquiries go unanswered
For perhaps words have left your covered mouth
Escaping your dulled mind before they find existence
Hurrying along with nothing in your mind
Leaves my pity to reach out to you

Oh! little minion
Farewell silent friend
Your time here is no finished
The battle has ended
The core of your targeted mission fallen
You've triumphed, we have one
Now sleep evermore, the challenge is complete
Of use you are no longer

Oh! brave little minion

Oh! Minionby ~BetweenSkill

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

These little guys deserved some respect.

In honor of one little brave minion who managed to win the match for my team of three after we had been aced. May you rest in peace.