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Aug 2020 · 497
Technicolour Waterfall
Melissa Thorne Aug 2020
I thought I was like a bird safely sitting on that wire.
Foolishly thinking I could bypass your electric fire.
But I am no tightrope walker,
    So I slip
         the sparks
               cascading
                       through
                           my grip
                                bathing
                                    me in a
                                         technicolour
                                              waterfall.
Apr 2015 · 3.6k
Reunited
Melissa Thorne Apr 2015
She is thin and waifish,
A brittle piece of paper.
He is volatile and uncontrollable.
Within him he carries a spark,
Unknowingly he lights the girl.
At first she glows,
Burning brighter and brighter,
Until she ignites.
She flames and fires
At first he is terrified.
Her sudden passion meets his
And he is drawn to her.
He seizes her seeking her heat.
They are caught in an inferno,
He revels in her magnificence.
She dies down exhausted.
A husk of her former self.
She burned too bright
Jun 2012 · 1.2k
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata
Melissa Thorne Jun 2012
Turn on the moon
and I will dance for you.
Jun 2012 · 1.0k
Fluorescent Fire
Melissa Thorne Jun 2012
Inspiration spirals away,
as the clock drones on.

If only the flickering
fluorescent light,
would ignite,
        something
                  anything
tangible.

Oh to feel fire,
caressing the soul.
Like the child,
who on a dare,
took to the clouds.
Then scrapped the skin
off his shin but won the glory.

Even captured with pen,
the fire wanes.
Smothered by the clock,
Never satisfied.
Feb 2012 · 741
A Spring Beginning
Melissa Thorne Feb 2012
A flower erupts,
Releasing pungent fragrance,
Signalling new life
Feb 2012 · 1.5k
Lamentation
Melissa Thorne Feb 2012
I can no longer be a poet,
For I feel no anguish deep in my soul.
There is no two timing lover,
Nor bruises marring my heart.

And there is nothing here to startle you,
I offer no sting to make you feel alive.
There is no vicarious pleasure to be had in these words.

I cannot lament missing voicemails,
Or rage against machinations,
There is no more fodder for my word press.


Now I only sigh over ***** dishes,
Or anticipate primetime television.
My heart flutters for clean sheets.

So I cannot help you cry,
Because I fell in love
And so I must retire.
Dec 2011 · 1.1k
Mrs. Dalloway
Melissa Thorne Dec 2011
The birds are all talking about me,

But in Greek.
a 10 word ode to Virginia Woolf
Dec 2011 · 764
Shelter Valley
Melissa Thorne Dec 2011
In the middle of two sloping hills,
There sits a weathered barn.
It’s almost as old as the trees,
The trees it’s hiding behind.

On the side,
There is a note scrawled.
In crackling yellow paint
It reads

“Shelter Valley”
Dec 2011 · 457
Little String
Melissa Thorne Dec 2011
We’ve taken the string between our hands,
Drawn it tight, hoping it would sing,
Instead it snapped, with a ringing scream,
Maybe we shouldn’t have twisted it up,
Each little knot scarring it,
We cried, “Complexity,”
Before it was so straight and narrow,
How boring the little string was,
It wasn’t even dyed,
It was pure natural cotton,
We cried, “Colour,”
But we covered it with our soot,
Our greasy hands defiled it,
Poor little string,
We never said we’re sorry,
After all, it was entirely your fault.
Nov 2011 · 523
Breathe
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
The ice
                        forest
       exhales
a tingling             caress
          across my
              face
Nov 2011 · 922
Detachment
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
We climb the ropes and ladders to success,
Jumping from rung to rung,
assuring our social status.
But the wood is slick and so often we fall.
The bars drop and
we are caught by material things.
We are trapped,
restrained from our normal snooping.
The community drives the wedge home,
and individuals are born.
Next envy sprouts and
slowly twists up the body.
We are left boxed in,
restricted,
yet seemingly
empty and
unfulfilled.
Nov 2011 · 506
Palms Up
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
This hand is perfect
                                 smooth
                                              soft
                                                    and it never falters
Nov 2011 · 765
Window Flies
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
The flies gather on the window,
They’re holding a meeting,
And I know they’re talking about me,
I crunch them individually,
It’s personal.
But afterwards I just stare out the window,
Watching the horrible lights flicker,
Those lights have trapped me,
Like they trap the flies,
I know they’re false,
On rainy days the flies don’t visit,
And I cry because I miss them.
Nov 2011 · 684
Thirsty
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
Knowledge has a purpose,
I need it for it sustains me,
Yet the more so called *know
ledge I gain,
The less I seem to know.
I regurgitate facts,
But I don’t claim to understand them.
I thirst for answers,
But gain only questions.
The more I drink,
The more parched I become.

Who can help me?

I’m told by others to question,
With the promise of an answer.
I’ve yet to receive an answer.
Instead, I’m fed more questions,
But I already have those.
I’m thirsty not hungry.
I’ve gorged all my life,
Producing questions.
All I beg for is a drop,
A tiny speck of true knowledge.
Nov 2011 · 514
Smile
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
I have a smile,

No-one has seen.

It is reserved

For the dark of night,

When sound asleep,

There comes an arm

Scooping me up

And pressing me close.
Nov 2011 · 724
A Girl and a Corner
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
The flicker of a broken bulb,
And her eyes repeat the rhythm.
They say she's senseless.
She pauses to inhale,
Dust clogs her nostrils,
The remains of decaying books.
She sits in the dim corner,
The cubicle isolates her on 3 sides.
She comes here to ride the waves of voices.
The swells of murmurs grow,
She didn’t bring a life preserver.
It doesn’t matter.
Her eyes show the rock inside.
She’s already sunk.
The murmur breaks close to the corner.
It never touches the girl.
It never does.
Nov 2011 · 700
Beautiful Road Kill
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
There’s a crimson splotch painted on the side of the road,
Resting amongst the ruins of broken glass,
Such a pop against the black and grey.
This was not meant to be a final resting place.
Someone once cared for this rose,
They plucked the thorns so it couldn’t hurt.
It has been preserved to a perfect crisp.
Its vibrancy turned almost black.
Heat has tapped the liquid.
There is no colour and no life.
It has hung its head down in eternal defeat,
Stubbornly refusing to turn to dust,
It doesn’t even rustle with the breeze,
Or spark against the drops of rain.
It’s just beautiful road ****.
Nov 2011 · 537
Just Another Lecture
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
The clocks are ticking,
Although someday the hands will likely stop.
Pens scribble across blank pages,
Although someday the paper will likely disappear.
Soon it will only be keys clicking,
The drums of war in an auditorium.
Where new minds brew destruction for peace.
A figure stands alone at the front,
One mind against hundreds,
Preaching past sins, urging progress,
Or is it regression?
Hundreds of youth don’t know.
They simply sit at the solid tables,
With squeaking, unyielding chairs beneath,
Trying to comprehend the words spurted forth.
Words forming theories and trumpeted as truth.
Hundreds sit, scratching furiously,
Crammed into the cavernous theatre,
A fragile box overflowing with gems.
Here future great minds sit,
Clustered together, an easy target.
Nov 2011 · 686
Blue and White
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
The sheet in front of me is white and pristine,
And like the year’s first snow,
I anticipate its defilement with glee.
Deriving an instinctive pleasure from it,
The hand in front of me can barely keep up,
Each scribble builds on the next,
Climbing ever higher to something unattainable,
It takes me to a private place,
A nameless person saunters in catching me,
My heart lurches, spurting the ashamed blood into my cheeks,
Suddenly my enjoyment seems perverse,
The ink is so blue against the bridal white,
Its permanence rings throughout my vibrating body,
This stain is not the beauty I wanted.
Nov 2011 · 544
My Love
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
I thought you had shattered my heart with your fleeces,
And that I’ve been busy picking up the pieces.
But in reality you’ve stolen it for you own,
And someday you will use it as my gravestone.
Just a whisper of you echoes through my mind,
And still the goose bumps ripple every single time.
You had simply faded to a shadowy figure,
And suddenly in my stolen heart you’re reconfigured.
I wish you could just disappear,
But I’ve learned you will always be near,
For the fibres connecting us are spun of steel,
And while invisible they are solid and real.
These connectors keep you vulnerable to my caress,
Even though my broken heart you still possess.
We are cursed and you will forever be drawn to me,
And the fear causes you to take my heart and leave.
The steel will stretch taught but never snap,
And you are destined to always come back
Nov 2011 · 849
The Second Goodbye
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
Hazy city lights filter into the atmosphere,
It rests against the fallen lovers,
They belong to a darkened world,
Where the stars pierce the night,

The foreign light reminds them,
They have stolen this moment,
In this city they cannot be,
And so they clasp each other close.

Quaking amongst the crumpled sheets,
They revel in the moment so long denied,
Together the broken souls sigh,
And the bed absorbs past sins.

The shadows soften their faces,
And the innocent lovers are reunited,
On their lips first love is rediscovered,
It still tastes so bittersweet.

The light only grows stronger,
The blinds cannot hold it at bay.
They slam their eyes against it,
To escape the glaring truth.

And then the glow comes knocking
It pulsates through the door,
His arms bind her close,
And still she must slip away.
Nov 2011 · 769
Forgotten Stars
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
The stars have been forgotten,
And we can no longer see them,
Even with a telescope.

They are hovering in the darkness,
But our light is drowning them,
For we’re so bright.

Our artificial incandescence
Is better than their twinkle,
Didn’t you know?

The light burns our eyes
Unlike the stars soft glow,
And we are blind.

We become lost in the universe,
For there is no beacon,
No guidance.

We rely on technology and GPS,
And the staccato voice,
It "knows" the way.

Yet that little box is so fragile,
And so often misleading,
Unlike a star.

The stars never move,
Only we do on our orb,
Round and round.

Twinkle, twinkle little star,
How I wonder where you are.
Nov 2011 · 541
Tappings
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
Do you understand me cause I don’t
Bits and pieces of useless writing,
I can’t organize anything anymore,
My file folders have scattered,
Their hiding in the wrong cabinets of my brain
I wrote a masterpiece once, but you’ll never read it.
It’s all in my heart.
And my heart’s broken in two.
Tap Tap Tap,
I broke the keys, I think,
They don’t write what they’re supposed to anyway
Nov 2011 · 572
Melodic
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
Oh that perfect strum,
As fingers dance along your neck,
Hardened from your beauty,
That man who can make you sing,
Could never understand,
The power he weaves,
The wisdom held in his hands,
On paper, so cold and calculating,
But in waves it soars,
Touching places hidden,
You call out to him,
Wake him when he sleeps,
He always reaches out for you,
When he needs you most,
Your language says what he cannot.
He flexes and makes you vibrate,
But he’s the one who quakes,
With you in hand,
He will rally a generation,
You are the instrument,
And only he can play your song.
Nov 2011 · 1.3k
Oh How Glamorous
Melissa Thorne Nov 2011
The chains have broken and it appears I'm free,
Free to do what, when all I have is nothing,
My cherished bond strained till breaking,
A friend lost to the real world.
Real to yourself, fake and hollow to me.
Your red carpet fits only one,
Like wine you absorb the hazy dazzle.
The sparkling lights have stolen you.
In your palace I'm an outsider,
A jester amongst royalty,
Only your laughter no longer rings true.
Friendship unfit for your ardent dealings.
Dull and weary I'm unappealing.
How can one so tarnished ever glitter?

— The End —