Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 2016 FiesaLy
Andrew Leparski
In dying trees I see rebirth
In a loser I see one who can finish first
In places I've never been
I see places I can get to know
Unknown chapters
Is where my optimism wants to go.

Is it too much
To appreciate the unappreciated
To hold the un-held
To replace pain with love  
And succeed with all cards dealt

I hold dear,
to things too small to see
I believe,
in things too strange to conceive

I place my hands around wounds to heal,
I simply feel for those who cannot feel.

I undergo the struggles within every soul
If only it lead them to their biggest goal

I make the rules to use this plan
I just might be an Optimistic Man
 Jan 2016 FiesaLy
david mungoshi
and the snort  goes on
as the pompous speaker drawls on
and the snort goes on
as the mad man sees what they don't see
that the obese speaker with the mole is at sea
talking about wonderful intentions
but having no idea how to get there
and the snort goes on ...
 Jan 2016 FiesaLy
Jennifer
“Mummy I’m sick” said the girl pale white
The mum turned around in an awful fright
exclaimed, “What’s wrong? How do you feel?’
She replied with an honesty “I never feel real”.

The mother just sighed, went back to her book.
The little girl shocked didn’t know where to look
and went back to bed, in her nothingness room
Whilst her mother ignored her nothingness gloom

The next year the girl aged, just turned thirteen,
she called out to her mum who couldn’t be seen.
And shouted down stairs “mum something is wrong”
with the mothers reply “what the hell’s going on”

So the girl with the pause says “Mum I feel sad”,
Then the mum goes on about all the girl has
and how lucky she is, and no fuss should be made
Just think happy thoughts, it will all go away.

To which the teenage girl said “you’re right” with a breath,
and goes to her room, feels like turning to death,
but switches off her light and lays in her gloom,
her room filled with nothing, fit for a tomb.

Now just turned sixteen, her heart had just broke,
a boy that she loved continued to joke
about all the things, she hated the most
her weight, her smile, she felt like a ghost

And after a week, she spoke to her mum,
about feeling so fat and feeling so numb.
Unfortunately for her, the cliche applied,
about how all teens feel this, trying to clarify
to her girl that the “fact” is it isn’t real
stop saying you’re sick, illness isn’t how you feel



This time she said nothing and went to her room
stopped talking to the boy who filled her with fumes
the thoughts of hatred and self deprecation
she knew it was time for her mum’s “education”
to see that her sickness long wasn’t all in her head
it was something deep down that started to spread

And weeks went by with planning and thought,
to show how her feelings and illness was fought,
she searched through the house for a constructive fight,
to clearly scream out what she knew was right
“Mum, I need help I don’t want to die”
but this was too late to say, the time was nigh

and finally the next day she calls for her mum
screaming “mum I’m hurt please just come”
with a relentless sigh, she walks up the stairs
to her little girls room, destroying her prayers
that her daughter was better, she wasn’t still sad
and the realisation of what she said was bad

her little girl kneeling, white and pale,
with blood on her hands, began to wail
in physical pain with emotional struggle
the mum had realised, her girl was in trouble
and picked her up and took her away
to a place where people like her could go stay.

And finally after years of trouble and fraught,
this girl knew she was allowed to be distraught…
 Jan 2016 FiesaLy
Alice Baker
He said he finds it odd,
That such pretty eyes could shed
So many tears.

I told him I find it strange,
That he found these stained eyes
Pretty.
 Jan 2016 FiesaLy
rattletaptap
)(
 Jan 2016 FiesaLy
rattletaptap
)(
Another night fell,
but it doesn't matter.
I never knew the sun anyway...
 Jan 2016 FiesaLy
enin
the fall
 Jan 2016 FiesaLy
enin
warm blood from wounds, it pours
to stain the floor in blending red
a fragrant pool where my sins reflect
flow endless to painful seconds passing
slow, i whispered prayers to a cross
though faith is lost.
falling paralyzed i closed my eyes
drawn to the luring
tunnel light


here below where all journies end
the ****** extend their reach skywards
to touch the unreachable  paradise
chained and hopeless - as angels
cast stones from above,
i payed the last price
two silvers for the ferryman that sails
through the plains of despair
where my soul shall forever drift
seeking for its rest
Next page