Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Aug 2014 · 690
Staying
Antonena Ishkova Aug 2014
Broken spirited and trying to find a purpose to my life.
Maybe I'll fling myself into Africa or India and and spend my days being of some use,
Attempting to heal the sick and feed the poor,
Building homes for the homeless and finding families for the orphans.
Spend my days fixing the broken-especially after the storm,
Either made of water or wind or human greed.
Maybe I'll spend my days learning a new language as I dig wells for the thirsty.
Or learn a new culture as I thatch roof to clay huts.

What if I stay here and learn to be content with what is around me,
And learn to be of some use to my family and community?
Maybe I'll heal the sick here while mending their roofs
Or find homes for the orphans as I save them from the storm,
Either made of water or wind or human greed.
Jul 2014 · 504
Untitled
Antonena Ishkova Jul 2014
You painted this beautiful mirage of me
Flawless, just the way you saw me
I danced in the shadows of the image you created
Until you asked something you never thought of asking
My answer was like many dark lines of charcoal,
Forever ruining your priceless art

It was done to spite you
To prove my carelessness, my independence.
Do I need someone? I might, but I don’t need you!
Out of hostility, I spat in your face.
Out of fear, all the doors and windows have been barred
And I no longer have the strength to free myself

Your question was the court room-
My answer the death sentence/penalty
And that painting you guarded with such pride
Forever displaying all that perfection,
I stole it away and destroyed it with a small collection
Of simple words
May 2014 · 295
Yours
Antonena Ishkova May 2014
When you say you will love forever
Is it a lie that will only last for today?
And your tomorrows never do come.
You forgot where you put them yesterday.

Your false hope is contagious
And those that get sick with it
Die blinded by a lie
That hid in your truth.

Heart-stopping serenades flow from your arms
As you clench the throats of victims.
Their cries of pain and screams for help
Only add to your haunting melody.

Your home of dreams come true
Is filled with misery,
The brightly painted walls barely
Covering the scars of reality.

Don't try to put makeup in the face of life
As you slowly take it away
With no remorse

And your sunshine painted skies
Will soon be washed out
By the loneliness you give to others,
Free of charge.

But you keep collecting,
Collecting promises and sacrifices,
The shattered pieces
Of what I once called
Mine.
Apr 2014 · 326
Age
Antonena Ishkova Apr 2014
Age
It's hard to watch
People like you lie in
Bed all day, when
All your life you were
Running around, making
The most of your
Cherished life.

I do not want to face
The day I can no longer
Walk or remember your
Name. I don't want to
Be carried to be washed
Up or for someone
Unknown to me to watch me
In a home.

No, I don't want to see
Those days. But if
Any of this happens,
If I forget who or where
I am, your name will
Be the only one I'll remember.
Mar 2014 · 639
Two Words
Antonena Ishkova Mar 2014
**** you.
My life was on a treadmill-
Simple steps and common sense.
Then you stopped by
And dared me to
          Jump off

This roller coaster we rode
Whizzed by all who watched.
Not certain of what they saw,
They smiled-
And marched on to the next
          Big thing

Chains and gravity take this adventure
To new speeds and bigger heights
But we both know-
The end is coming
And it's coming fast so
          Hold on

Soon I'll get back on the treadmill
And you to the Ferris wheel.
And back to the groove
Of organized chaos.
And looking back, I'll only think
          Of you

I'll think of adventures
Of maybe finally getting what I want;
Of sunshine and late nights,
Of what is and what could be
And say to it all
          **** you
Jul 2013 · 423
Just like you
Antonena Ishkova Jul 2013
Changes creeping up
And you never agree with them.

I say that I don't see things the way you do
You say I'm wrong.
We'll never find a common ground now.

You say I need to change my ways,
Follow your foot steps.

I don't want to be like you,
I'll never be anything like you!

How can I be so naive?

I'm exactly like you,
Always will be

And the cycle will only live on.
Jul 2013 · 562
Home
Antonena Ishkova Jul 2013
The ground was muddy; dirt and water mixed as one.
She didn't know where she was going-she didn't really care.
Heated from the argument earlier, she felt that the only cure was to keep walking.

Making her way through the muddy forest, at times slipping, her ears forgot to catch the birds singing;
Her eyes forgot to see the beauty around her that Nature had made.
Oh, how blinding anger can be!

Anger steals at one's happiness, giving a life no purpose to go on,
But to defeat your enemy and cast much pain on them as possible.

By the afternoon, the morning mud was now hard with cracks split across in all directions
Cracks that told no lies; cracks that held no secrets
Cracks that told her,'Go home, go home.'

Looking up at the Sky she recalled her last words, then spoke, saying, 'If I must.'

She began making her way home, as the Sky cried, 'No, no, never!'
It opened up and let the tears fall.
The dirt turned back to mud as she picked up her pace, falling.
One mistake she made on her long path home; she put much trust on a dry root.

A lie it was and a hopeless light.
It broke her trust and watched as she fell, fell deep into the pit of Death.
As she fell, she remembered his last words as he ran after her, 'Come home. Come home!'

He watched the Rain in a sickening trans.

He continued to await her arrival as he remembered her last words,

'I am never coming home!'

— The End —