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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.
Pieces of chessKings and pawns are all the same
All but pieces in a game
A stroke of luck
A touch of ill fate
Decides in the end who will be
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.
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.
They're evil creatures in the night
Lurking in the shadows but still seeing there sight
From they're pale skin and glowing eyes
Out there graves they will rise
Moaning and groaning is what you hear
Your body will soon fill with fear
They walk or run in a fast pace
Here they come for the chase
Get ready for the fear
Coming through the door they are here
Board up the windows to keep them away
This is the place you don't want to stay
It's too late now they're breaking in
It's a fight you may not win
Grab you shotgun prepare for the fight
This battle may last all night
Pain and blood come from your arm
A bite from these creatures can cause muc
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.
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,
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
Last RoadTwo people, both alike in personality,
Shared a home where the scene was played,
From shattered souls to new beginnings,
Where screams were heard on this doomsday.
From golden moons crisp as the sun,
A mother who has not yet won,
The illness will strive until the deed is done,
Even if the daughter has not begun.
The road that lies ahead,
Is now a mother who is dead,
With hugs and kisses that are gone,
The daughter who will beat them all;
Thy which your eyes and ears can pretend,
What here shall be a transformation undid.
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
Faded bluesShadows dance of patented hues,
Yellow folded somber blues
Fear I tried in vain forbidden.
As all I long for is e'r hidden;
Shadows coved in bloated lies
My heavy heart, buzzing like a thousand flies.
Shadows Welcome by means of trust,
Yet terrified of misted dust.
Shadows threaded within the dawn,
Ever soon to be gone, unseen.
Motions treated in colored hues,
And my wold is simple now...
Shadows of faded blues.
Beautiful and SimpleA cool, clear pool which stretches out under a wide blue sky.
A sparrow swooping past, the fluttering sound of it's wings surprisingly loud.
A tall, thin tree, it's gnarled branches twisting themselves up as high into the sky as they can.
A sagging wooden porch, it's wood tired but content with it's place, which is still so inviting.
A bright red umbrella, gently flapping in the breeze.
Bright, proud sunflowers, whose faces stare excitedly into the sun.
A faded pair of shoes, baking in the sun, waiting to be remembered and re-used.
Floral-patterned shirts, dripping wet and hanging in the sun to dry.
The contrast of the deep brown of t
Rosemary"Yeah, yeah, 15 minutes."
He nodded and pushed against the door that would let him outside. The heat contrasted sharply to the cool interior of the ice cream shop and made him shiver. Normally he would sit on the bench, but to his surprise a girl was sitting there. She glanced up at him, startled, no doubt, by someone walking past, and he gave her a nod and a smile, then pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit one up. He leaned against the wall and blew out the smoke, letting the tension go with it. He closed his eyes, prepared to enjoy his 15 minutes as thoroughly as he could, when he was interrupted.
Irritated, he ign
A LetterDear You,
Hello. I love you. Sorry, that seems rushed, doesn't it? You're probably thinking I'm crazy. How can someone you've only just met love you, right? But... I do. I mean, look at you. You're amazing. Your eyes are completely unique and they sparkle when you laugh. That makes them breathtaking. You have a smile that's only yours and that makes it rare and heartbreaking. Your hands have helped create something, whether it's a poem, a piece of art, or a laugh from someone else while you tickled them. Because of that, they're lovely.
I don't know much about your personality, but I can guarantee you this. You've made at least one person s
RainYou promised that we would kiss in the rain.
You promised a lot of things, but I remembered that one. I waited and waited for it to rain. Every day when I woke in your arms, I would squeeze my eyes shut and listen as hard as I could, hoping against hope to hear the patter of rain against the window. If I would have heard it, I would have jumped on top of you and woken you up. I would have dragged you outside and then held you tight and begged for a kiss. But I would always hear bird song. I got sad, one time, because we watched a movie where they kissed in the rain, and I cursed the weather of this place for being so bright and sunny every d
YouDo you know what I miss?
What I really miss is,
The feel of your kiss
so gentle and soft against my skin.
That light in your eyes
that you tried to hide;
the gleam of a hidden grin.
And the lilt in your voice
as you laid out the choice
of what things we could begin.
Do you know what I miss?
Sometimes I feel pain.
All I am is the hole in my chest, the pressure that makes it hard to breathe.
I cry and rock and sob and whimper and hug my knees tight and gasp desperate breaths and...
It Still Hurts.
Sometimes I feel numb.
There's nothing there.
I sit and type and smile and bake and nod and drink and breathe and walk and eat and live and...
Sometimes it feels like those are the only two feelings I have left.
I will feel pain and numb and pain and numb and pain and numb and pain and numb and...
Once for a time I felt happy.
I laughed and giggl
Please AcceptFluttering, falling, flighty, but free,
Floating across with the wind like the sea.
Lace trims the edge with a spiderweb frame,
but not to be mistaken as something that's tame.
Torn and ripped and beat up and stained,
but soft and warm, despite being maimed.
Touched by roughness, it falls apart again,
but slides away and with the weather spins.
Too delicate to hold tightly, it lands where it can,
rests for a moment, then slips away again.
It's what's left of her love, it's what's left of her heart,
it's a scrap and a bit and it's falling apart.
But it's what's left and it's precious and it'll have to do,
because it's all she has
Keep in Touch!
`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More