Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2018 · 159
A mother's last request
Abby Sep 2018
Please, have mercy!
You are all my children,
Whom I've given birth to and nourished
Until you were strong enough to hurt me,
And even after that,
Because I still love you
Even though you've forgotten me.
Please, have mercy!
I promise to keep caring for you,
And I promise to be there for you,
And I promise to suffice all of your needs,
But please, don't mistreat me,
Don't mistreat your mother,
Don't pollute her water,
Don't pollute her air,
Don't pollute her roads,
Don't cut her forests,
Don't **** her animals,
Don't sterilize her earth,
Don't mute her song,
Don't do to her what she's never done to you.
I'm your mother,
And I ask for forgiveness
If I've ever hurt you,
But please, my dear children,
Have mercy on me!
Sep 2018 · 134
Abby Sep 2018
When I walk through this silver streets,
When I drink from this thick glass,
When I think and cry and cry to think,
When I burn this curse, when I breath this bless,
I'm never here, that's someone else,
It might be,
There's something else, being me.
I'm never actually sad or happy or confused,
I never am, you see,
I'm never bored or dreamily amused,
Cause someone else is for me.
I myself inhabit the lilac echoes behind what I should be,
I myself have never suffered, I just watch another's pain,
It's much easier to see life this way,
As if I'm something too precious to exist,
As if I'm life itself, beneath my wrist,
I'm the conscience of the blood,
When it's ceased the bruise's pain,
I'm the spirit, not the body,
I am not in vain.
Jun 2018 · 186
Blue song
Abby Jun 2018
Not to be built with bricks,
Not to be shut with stone,
I want the silence of water,
A paradise of my own.
Be quiet, if you can!
Stay still, if you will!
Blink in the blue of ice,
All wounds heal.
Let's move, move to an island,
Let's dream and be silent!
Jun 2018 · 542
Abby Jun 2018
Let's talk poppies and candies,
Let's talk summer frocks and bees,
Let's talk blue skies ending
In crystal blue seas.
Sure let's talk the neighbors,
Sure let's talk cooking books,
Sure let's talk red lipstick
And guys' good looks!
We're gonna talk Elvis and Marilyn
And Trotsky and Tolstoy,
We're gonna talk Eastern countries
We're about to destroy.
And Italian movies and French perfumes,
Marijuana and milkshake,
Bobby socks and jukebox,
And vacations by the lake.
Let's talk, my dearest pal
All of the above,
But I'd say, first of all,
Let's not talk love.
Jun 2018 · 184
Emmalou II
Abby Jun 2018
Emmalou, don't you grow
For adulthood darkens and sours
The moonly white of thy brow
From the clear days of yore,
Emmalou, don't you grow.
Emmalou, don't you enter
This garden's open door,
Cupid lies in its center
And his eyes' dark and sour,
Emmalou don't you listen to me.
Jun 2018 · 132
Abby Jun 2018
The weather's so nice today
We'd go to the beach it it wasn't
The lack of money and of time,
Their team's lost the game
Whose is the blame,
Is it theirs or mine?
Boy I love you so much
I'm gonna die.
Jun 2018 · 158
I love you
Abby Jun 2018
I love thee with a love unknown
Unknown to me, its winds blow
Now I can see my very soul
I love thee out of time
I love thee with sounds
Of songs that do not rhyme
Over seas, over grounds
I love thee at night
I love thee with lemons
Made out of light
I love thee with honey
I love thee with rue
I love thee like a child
I love thee like a God
I worship you and curse you
I destroy
I love you so much
In quantum physics
An apple from a tree
I love you so much I want you happy
Even if it's not with me
Abby May 2018
She sang a song of seven seas
She'd once travelled by,
A song of woe, a song of bliss,
She sang to the sky.
She sang a song of seven seas
As she died on the shore,
A song as sweet as a salty kiss
To be heard nevermore.
Abby May 2018
Glossy rag curls the colour of gold
Decked with a frail flower wreath,
A dress still fitting though quite old
In the source of a frozen breath;
Pale complexion, rosy cheeks,
Eyes of blue, summer and light,
Glistening crimson plump lips
And a most malicious sight.
May 2018 · 133
Skinny girl
Abby May 2018
I just ate an entire chocolate bar.
Could have it poisoned my very heart?
Cause although the chewing felt like flying
This aftermath feels just like dying!
May 2018 · 155
M.L., 14, May 1853.
Abby May 2018
She grabs my bodice tightly
with her bold tiny hand,
She pulls my hair lightly,
she doesn't understand
How much it hurted
and still does.
She loves me and I love her.
And it hurts.

She's something new to me,
like a packed Christmas present,
But it seems we've always met,
who knows if we haven't?
Her pudgy little body,
how could it come from mine?
How comes from a tempest
a ray of sunshine?
She loves me and I love her.
And it hurts.

Everytime she looks at me,
with round translucent eyes,
I know all was worth it,
my love, my medicine, my life.
I'm so young and innocent,
but so is she,
And I love her and she loves me.
And the pain is nothing at all.
May 2018 · 113
Abby May 2018
I can't stand the heat of these clothes,
I can't breath the weight of this air,
So much red blood I can't hold,
Just can't feel my feet bare,
I can't bear my dark soul,
I can't bear to be alive,
I can't bear to die,
Wanna be dust,
Naked gold,
The sky.
May 2018 · 204
Forgotten Love
Abby May 2018
I read on a poem on a wintery day
Some kind of soham:
Nothing gold can stay.
And even this saying might be much true,
So much is staying
That is golden too.
So much you can't touch,
So much you can't see,
So much of you
Forever in me.
For Time can take,
And Time can break,
Things we've touched
And things we've seen
But Time, Valensa,
My love of Provença,
Can nothing do to what we have been.
Valensa is the heroine of a now forgotten story quoted in a medieval French song, "A chantar mer".
May 2018 · 226
Abby May 2018
I know I should be grateful
because I have all to be:
I've got a house and food
and people to bother me;
And I know I should be grateful
to be made someone someday,
why I'm not a can't say.
We made things harder by making them easier,
I should think about school,
about grades and the rules
I should keep myself busier!
I shoud look myself more tidy,
I should speak like this and that,
Your baldness and healthy skin
are caused by the same hat.
I should be so much
that I don't want too!
I'm thinking of Greek afternoons, and islands and butterflies...
May 2018 · 320
Daphnis and Chloe
Abby May 2018
To look, to touch, to hold,
To squeeze, to smell, to kiss,
To  unhappily release.
These truths still untold
Block the blow of our bliss!
To love from the shiver of the skin,
From the blood and the flesh and the bone
To the flame for a soul within...
To love and to feel alone.
To try to touch the incandescence,
To reach the limpness of a cloud,
To hurt both company and ausence,
To jump, to fly, to fall.
To cry and to pray and to kiss again
In a poisoning paradox of desire,
To feel as cold as ice and hot like melting fire.
In spite of the time,
In spite of morality,
In inspite of our parents,
Of our own anxiety,
In inspite of the world
And whatever watches from above,
In spite of ourselves,
To love.
To love and to pray and to hurt again
To jump, to fly, to fall,
To feel Hell and Heaven at the reach of a hand
But to know nothing at all.
"Daphnis and Chloe" is a 2nd century AD novel by Greek author Longus. The two naming protagonists, Daphnis, 15, and Chloe, 13, are teenagers who struggle with growing up and their innocence on the matters of love and ***. Beautifully written, a must read with no doubt!
May 2018 · 212
Abby May 2018
Emmalou comes to my bed at night:
"Now Abby, tell me a story!", she orders.
"I can tell you about stars and the Universe's borders, or just moonlight."
May 2018 · 497
Abby May 2018
they call me a nymphet
my narrow hips budding *******
my glowing skin rosebud lips
in the sun where i rest...
older women are fat and cold
with porous skin and dyed hair
they haven't their blades like gold
salient and bare
they haven't their thighs like ivory
of thin ivory are mine
i'm british and brattish
they're just fine
they call me a nymphet
with my schoolbag hanging
from my frail shoulder
decadent and delicate
please just for a while
not a nymphet
but a hurting child
May 2018 · 126
from the girl who loved you
Abby May 2018
When you are old and gray and cold
By some hospital's TV,
Rusty scissors will shine like gold
And you shall remember me.
If a nurse enters your room,
You see my eyes in her face!
Isn't fun how life's loom
Weaves threads of disgrace?
When you are rotten and always seen
Tormented by memory's fleas,
Oh, my dear, I'm not mean,
But I mean that life is.
May 2018 · 268
Abby May 2018
My dear,
I don't know where you lie,
I don't know if you're already asleep,
But in order not to die, at least I shall weep.
I weep for you, my boy:
My hair, my heart are full of woe,
I am but Cupid's toy, and he's playing of loving you so.
A sad game, you see:
The maiden in her deathbed
She's crying “ay, love me!”, he’s leaving her instead.
I dreamt a dream, dun dear
Of your emerald eye and your coal hair,
But as I woke up, laid here
You had stayed there.
I prayed a prayer, o hunter,
The prayer of a prey:
That in my next dream
Here you’ll may lay.
And when you and I meet
And here and there are same,
Beautiful as in a lie,
From sorrow I shain’t weep
But from joy may die.

— The End —