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RH 78 Dec 2014
They roll.
The close.
They're near my nose.
They wink.
They weep.
They dream when I sleep.
Windows to the soul.
Pupils black as coal.
I see all sorts.
They are the gateway to my thoughts.
I cherish my eyeballs!
Anneke Nov 2014
I am dead weight
to everyone around me.

Like coal,
I was a sizzling and crackling inferno,
until the only thing left
was a clump of
Burnt.
Used.
Lifeless.
Coal.

I burden other people
leaving marks
on those
I've barely touched.

I am everyone's coal.
The baggage everyone carries.
The trash thrown away.
The item disregarded, not worthy of living.
Not even given a chance to make a name of itself.
Burnt.
Used.
Lifeless.
Coal.
Eleanor Rigby Sep 2014
Black as coal
White as snow
These are words
We all know.


F.Z.N
Brianna Sep 2014
Tell me about your lavender eyes and your vanilla hair.
Tell me about you sandalwood smile and coal black stare.
How does the rain wash away your hatred for other so easily?
But the soft breeze in the summer fuels your fire?

Tell me about your wandering mind and your benevolent heart.
Tell me about your gypsy spirit and harnessed passion.
How does the ocean calm sadness so easily?
But the autumn smell makes you cry in the night?

Can you tell me why it's so easy to fall for you but so hard to make you stay?
GEORGE CARLE Aug 2014
And he saw it now and then
the lamp lit row of houses that
stretched beyond the eye
houses where men who dug black
slept and drank when they could

ageless cobbles pried on
men who fought in the street
over want, women and work
while little men sons played
foolish games of childhood

daughter women with prams
mothered their plastic dolls
and the wives gossiped about
young Sally who had a belly
by John Stout the butcher boy

the reverend Ellis knew
all the stories and chapters
of life in this coal dust street
he birthed them baptised them
married and buried them

and the street was quiet
no vehement voices tonight
as the deed of death
slipped over the cobbles
and gripped a sleeping soul.
mosquitoism May 2014
274 Etceteras
left behind orphans, moms, widows et cetera
who cares et cetera what their names are?
for they're Heroes indeed, Martyrs now et cetera.
**** happens et cetera, "it's common". Why surprised?
I'll give you some examples; China, England et cetera
That's the way the cookie crumbles.
Hope you're safe and sound et cetera
in your warm, cozy et cetera house.
WE et cetera are used to cold stones and mines.
though not stone-cold hearts.



mosquitoism
Almost 300 miners are killed in an explosion and a fire at a coal mine in Soma in western Turkey.
Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
I want to run.
Be free.
Be the little girl they see in me,
but plot-twist happen frequently,
opening your eyes to things you didn't see.
Burning the cheerful into your mind.
If only I didn't once leave that behind.
If I could return to those naive, fun days.
But fun was out and sad was in,
so I figured "well okay."
I dived right in,
singeing my skin,
turning me to the pit.
I was told,
"don't follow your instincts",
so I guess this is what I get.
Now I sit alone,
a pitiful lump of coal,
as a dog without bone,
or soccer ball with no goal.
I'm heading to "God knows where"
on a train called "Oopsy Days,"
and when I arrive,
they will all be amazed.
For I am the writer
who will give them a story,
for I am a lighter,
and my flame gives me glory.

— The End —