Julie Grenness Jul 2016

An open letter to chicks  like thee,
You wait until you're nearly sixty-three,
You'll end up talking like me,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society,
Fine-thinking women, very snippy,
Got no time for nasties and rudies,
"What's this?" "What's for tea?"
"A plate of good manners from me!!"
(And the Dead Grandmas Society!)
A fact of life, real scary,
When you're nearly sixty-three,
Words appear from the clouds, prithee,
You'll sound like the Dead Grandmas Society.......

A bit of fun about a fact of life. Feedback welcome.
Nathan Collins Jul 2016

Where are you
Amidst the trees?
No, not you
You noble valiant thing

I thought you were a king
Not a refugee
Leaping from page to page
From thought to age
Evading the tinkerer's jail
Of memory
Paid ransom by some other script

Take a rest
You've been running for infinity
But you've finally run right into the wrong time:
Pass into potential's clearing
long enough
For my swift stab
"Penned" to paper

Shall we begin
The inked interrogation
To see what lies within, o suspect
Accused of rhyme?

Leila Valencia May 2016

When you gaze
Gaze longer,

Peels of splotchy skin aimlessly fall
Until bones crush through your naked eyes
Not at all, what you'd believe

You dream in their gilded appearance
Clearance to enter
Not cleared to touch my core

Falling from god's sand - like grasp
Booming down to hold me below sea level
Trouble concentrating on bliss, I missed your appearance

I shriveled in pain to discover your shadow spirit

Learning someone for what they truly are.
gravygod Apr 2016

you said you can read me like a book
but you won't tell me what my pages say, or how many there are,
what my chapters are titled, if they even are titled
i want to know
who my introduction mentions,
what my author's note says,
and who helped me with the theme
but honestly, please
at least tell me about the chapter where you appear
just let me know if it ends well

gravygod Mar 2016

who the hell are you?
how did you appear in my life,
and sweep me away with your inviting eyes
fed me pleasure and warmth
left me high and dry,
puzzled and craving more
of your attention and gaze
your laugh to be directed to me
maybe you could put your hands on my waist again
or around my neck
it feels brand new to me and i'm sorry,
that i almost back away each time
this is probably all my fault
i question if i'm the confusing one
or if he is
but i'd put money on him in a heartbeat

Cat Fiske Jan 2016

we drove by saint mary's all the time.
and this was no different today,
than the last,

but I saw mary,
in the window that night,
and it was all a flash as we drove by,

as I said we did all the time,
but this time,
I saw the virgin in the night,

each and everyday I wonder,
why did I see her,
why didn't I greet her,

I wonder why she was there,
or if she was as scared,
as me,

I question myself everyday,
like did you really see,
Mother Mary?

I cannot explain what I saw,
Mary had not spoken to me,
as she just appeared to me for a moment,

as I was shocked to see her disappear so quickly,
the view of the hospital window she was in was fading,
I clutched a set of my grandmother rosary beads she gave me to fix,

in my hands there all I felt the whole car ride back,
as I kept bringing back the image of Mary,
and her outstretched hands,

the silhouette won't fade from my memory,
I constantly try to find out why,
she decided to appear to me,

we drive by saint mary's all the time,
and I look for her in the window before it fades away,
as we drive by,

and I haven't seen the room light up,
since the time she appeared to me,
but I will still wait for her every time we drive by.

it's true. and I will look for her every time we drive by, until I die.
Olga Valerevna Nov 2015

Remembering the days I didn't have you in my life
is something of a struggle and a game unto my sight
My rapid moving eyes can see until the lids are closed
and everything that happens then is etched into my bones
But what about the pen that wrote your name so many times
along the very person I am being in my mind
I want another hand to wrap its fingers in my own
to tell me I am present and will never be alone
I thought I would have heard it but perhaps I wait in vain
your silence is a phantom that once danced around my brain

you appear to disappear

Why do they appear so mystified?
As if every little thing must be justified
Moved to fit inside their small box
And look away when their key couldn't unlock
What they aimed to achieve
Does it ever make you giggle
When people call you fickle
But they're the ones whose eyes are fixed
On an object not quite literally applicable,
Something regarded as abstract, typically unseen
You see: I am a metaphor
And people stare at me.

© Melissa Carlson 2015

Iam B Death Jul 2015

What once was inspiration
Now the center of my desperation.
What once was the star of my night
Now the star in my plight

There be no greater woe
Than see a dream go rogue
And leave thee in the cold
Broken, betrayed, and untold

Rockie May 2015

I have no hope
Of tomorrow ever appearing.

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