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 Jan 2016 Eleanor K
Laura Matas
My life has evolved into something
I did not anticipate.
I find myself surrounded by people;
I'm always running late.
My grades aren't where I want them.
My talent isn't great.
My skin has become dull and worn.
Mediocre seems my fate.
The voices in my head overwhelm me.
Nothing can sedate it

I like order
I like organization
I like schedules
I like rules
I like balance
I like harmony

But recently                                   ,
    my life becomes                                         a whirlwind          .

Which   way   is   up

                   ?
    I can't find my  footing
...
                                                 ­          Where did
          the ground go                                                               ­      !

Thefloorissinking Itiscavingin
   I need to--
                         I need to find my rock.
 Jan 2016 Eleanor K
Sia Jane
Only yesterday, you stood before me.
You watched me a while,
           you saved me last night you say.
We begin talking about the thunderstorms
you saved me last night you say,
          you’re repeating yourself again.
That was yesterday I say,
but you keep saying you saved me last night
           studying me intently your eyes fill;
a storm drain overflowing with rain,
the tidal wave in your stomach kept rising;
            I would have drowned without you there-
you’d think I was the equivalent of coming
up for air.
           You’re more than the oxygen I breathe
you say, coming closer to me.
You’re my sun.
            I want to tell you I’m afraid of my
darkness.
But I can’t say it out loud to you.
You see dearest, I can’t take my limbs apart like you
            I’ve forgotten how to sew myself
back together.
All my emotions, are held
in a nest between rib bones; rib bones broken
            in the fight endured trying to get
the world to love me. Yours, is a heart awaiting
for the blooming of flowers, which follow a winter
           of freezing now pining to thaw.
Tears surge down your cheeks –
they’re forming pools of salt water
           between your *******.
Only yesterday, you stood before me.
You taught me to dance, your elegant body
           telling stories.
Night was drawing closer, and out the window
I can see another storm is approaching.
           I was a child born in a thunderstorm,
you say. The first night we met, you told me
you are the eye of all my storms. The calm centre
            keeping me grounded. You saved me
last night
you say again.
No baby I say, you save yourself every time.
You’re not the monster
           you think yourself to be.


© Sia Jane
 Jan 2016 Eleanor K
Mohd Arshad
I have a God
Like yours
And he is one!

I have a sky
Like your earth
And with you I live!

I will sleep on dust
And you will come next
And others will follow!

At his court,
When all meet,
Poetic justice at its best!
Notes (optional)
 Oct 2015 Eleanor K
Alyssa
13
 Oct 2015 Eleanor K
Alyssa
13
it took
the smell
of coffee grounds
and smokey burnt wood
13 days
to finally escape
from the thick fabrics
of my favorite sweatpants
and I promised myself
I'd never let you
burrow away
into the deepest parts
of me
just to keep warm;
23 nights from November
and I'm still digging you out
from underneath my skin.
and that Sunday night
at 12:37 AM;
remnants of
melted rouge kisses
overflowed
from the surface
of the birthmark
on your left shoulder-blade
when I traveled across
the terrains
of every inch
of your back
with my bottom lip;
sweeter
than the sugarcanes in my tea
sending chills
up every bone
in my body
and I knew you
had finally found your home
for the winter.





Copyright ©  2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
if only I knew I'd one day have to stop loving you
You’re the prettiest
You are the cutest
And if I had to make a new word
It would be beautifulest

You’re the most charming
You are amazing
And why I find you pretty and sweet
I would say that you’re my heart’s beat

I see you grin from ear to ear
And dissolve into laughter
But I know you’re still stick in a labyrinth
Where you’re drown in pain

When you smile (cry)
When you laugh (break down)
I want my presence to be with you
And stop the skies for turning into blue

If you place your heart in my hand
I will keep it safe for me
I will cherish, care, protect, love
And treat it compassionately

I imagine that you’re like a glass
A glass that can easily be broken
And I want it on me to last
So that I can guard it even until the end

You as a woman is fragile
When broken into pieces, it’s painful to clean up
You may stick it up, but you’ll notice
The cracks still remain

I want to collapse into you
When your heart is bursting
And I want to hold you
When your bones are chilling

Everything on you is labeled fragile
And I don’t want to break anything on it
I just want to handle you with all my care
You are precious, you are wonderful.. Ever
 Oct 2015 Eleanor K
Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
 Oct 2015 Eleanor K
Sia Jane
(1)

I'm disturbed and yet deeply
comforted by my disturbed nature
I'm comforted because my darkness
envelops me-
it may be cold to the touch
rigid and upright
not soft and loving
but it's loyal
it never leaves.

Today, I'm driving
window down to help me breathe
I capture cold air in my wind pipe
I smell November winter air
smoke from chimneys rising-
when I breathe out I'm smoking too
warm air penetrating cold air
I smell November winter air
we're still in October
it's too early for these memories
I'm unprepared- it's too early.

Sat next to me she appears-
a paler, younger, thinner self
a self I'm sure has passed on
to another life
if it haunted me we'd call her a ghost
but she comforts me
shall we call her an imaginary friend?

"You look terrible!" I state wilfully.

(2)

She's dressed in a thousand layers
"You still feel the cold, eh!" I say
She winks, staying aloof
from any possible conversation
I take a tone of similar indifference.

There she is barely visible
so unafraid of death
arms striped with incisions
a razor blade left behind
hip bones, collar bones, chest bones
she's nothing more
than a white sheath coat
pulled over the skeleton of
a human body
skin screaming for nourishment
to show any signs of life.

If I asked to feel her pulse
there'd be nothing there
no beat
no rhythm
"Maybe it's why the fear of death
has left me!" she commands
"Because in your muffled confusion
your muscles wasting
including your brain-
you mistake yourself for dead." I retort
"You're 21 for Christ's Sake!"

(3)

Distracted by a red traffic light
I turn away-
when I look back, she's gone.

So here I am
talking to myself
the ghost of Christmas past
disappears as soon as my back
is turned.

When I'm alone
the silence
is always louder
than any noise I ever hear-
the silence attracts her back
I reach out to her
trace her face with my finger tips
I whisper: "God Bless,"
knowing some memories are meant
to be laid
to rest.


© Sia Jane


Read on SoundCloud:
https://soundcloud.com/sia-jane-words/winter-air
 Oct 2015 Eleanor K
Kalena Leone
Someday
I’m going to be able to recite the line
“My favorite life is…
mine.”
and I’m going to believe it.
I’m going to have kids.
I’m going to visit Asheville, North Carolina a second time around.
And I’m going to reminisce about the time I ran away the summer I turned 17.
Because I needed to see mountains.
Because their dust had floated into my bones and tied themselves snug around my joints, and the magnet pulling me back had started to hurt.
it is funny, you will be dead some day.
By you the mouth hair eyes,and i mean
the unique and nervously obscene

need;it’s funny.  They will all be dead

knead of lustfulhunched deeplytoplay
lips and stare the gross fuzzy-pash
—dead—and the dark gold delicately smash….
grass,and the stars,of my shoulder in stead.

It is a funny,thing.  And you will be

and i and all the days and nights that matter
knocked by sun moon jabbed ****** with ecstasy
….tremble (not knowing how much better

than me will you like the rain’s face and

the rich improbable hands of the Wind)
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