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Mishika 1d
I burn pages,
And I burn my dreams.
The fire feels warmer,
Knowing they’re mine.

As ashes,
They look dull,
Hopeless and weak.
But only those who look close
Will find the shimmer of the stardust,
Full of ecstasy and valour.
I sit, heart still, not beating,
A lone soul amongst my own memories,
Which plaster the walls, a putrid stain.
Through the fog of night,
I hear her cries, silent tears of crystal,
Falling to the padded floors, shattering.
Through the crackle of the fire,
I hear her laughter,
A once pretty sound, gone sharp and raw.
Staring aimlessly into my own palms,
Her voice haunts me, has haunted for so long,
So I reach but a single hand to the fire.
Watching the tongues of the flame,
Lick my open flesh,
I smile when the searing begins.
Then fall from my chair,
Crawling to their sound, their loud cackle driving her memory away.
From the flames I rob a charcoaled log,
That which I toss, and another,
Though when the smoke and flame surrounds I know,
I must've been missed when they came to lock her up.
Inspired by the Requiem pieces from Mozart.
Solaces 6d
Into the veil of the night, the young wizard had to reconnaissance that of which hunted them.  

With careful steps, the young wizard moved through the night toward the cracking of twigs.  He then felt a stone near his left foot as it had parked down from a quiet march forward.  He then lifted the stone and tossed it in a westerly direction toward the denser side of the forest. The stone did its job well, creating noises of false escapes. The hunter then revealed itself, trying to chase the noise down.  The young wizard then returned to camp.

Alston waited back at camp with the empowered frost and flame sword, ready to fight and doubting himself all at once.  The young wizard returned with a slight concern on his face, which Alston had not yet seen in his new friend.  They whispered in the dead night.

" It's a shadow mantis, a very large one.  Something is strange about it.  It does not look natural, nor does it want to hunt for small prey. It must stand at least 6-7 feet high.  We have to go for the head.  I will distract it with my staff. There is an invocation of light that I will use to draw it near me. It will be fixated on my light for a short moment until it realizes that I am holding the light. In that time, I need for you to do your wild swings on its legs from behind. As the shadow mantis falls, strike the head as hard as you can. Remember, I have invoked your blade with immense power. Trust in yourself and then trust in the blade. There is no time.  Ready yourself, Alston."

Alston readied himself with so many questions he wanted to ask the young wizard as well as himself. But the questions never came, nor did he know what to ask.  He then saw the young wizard walk forth holding his staff upright. " Luminis Sados."  The young wizards staff burn brightly in the night.  Like a small sunrise in the dark forest. Alston then heard the nightmarish scamper of the very large shadow mantis.  It stood over the young wizard with gleaming yellow eyes as it was in a small trance looking into the light. Alston knew it was time.  He gripped the enchanted sword with both hands and closed his eyes. He called courage and bravery from all places, but none of them answered. He then opened his eyes and saw his boys sleeping behind the young wizard. Courage then called, and Alston came in swinging at the legs of the entranced shadow mantis. With war screams or fear screams, Alston swung his blade. The blade gleamed white with frost, then red with fire as Alston swung the blade widely.   Burning and shattering the hind legs of the shadow mantis it fell on its side, screeching and unholy voice through the forest. Alston then spun around swinging the blade true through the head of the shadow mantis.  The screeching stopped, and black blood poured out of the headless body of the shadow mantis.
He started his own fire,
then he put it out.
They called him a "hero."
You know who this is about.

(People are incapable of change.)
triginta quattuor felonias
Jaci 7d
All the leaves have fallen off,

All the branches are small.

The sky helps me stall,

Waiting to wish upon a star.


What color is the sky painted?

The color of your emotion is faded.

The bonfire is created,

The wind has your face painted.


Close your eyes,

Maybe we're falling.

Or is the wind just stalling?

The rain was falling as if I were bawling.


Tell me the color of your emotion.

Tell me if the rain is your devotion.

Is the bonfire burning,

Or am I only yearning?


Cause maybe i'm just falling,

Listening to your calling.

You're like a bonfire,

Unmatching with a wildfire.


So let me listen to your calling,

In the rain as if I were falling.

The bonfire is slowly fading,

Allow me to test what we created.
Series of poems based on  songs.
Song: Bonfire
Mica Wood Feb 8
The fire burning in my heart
set the forest of possibilities ablaze—
And no love sprouts from a forest fire...
No matter it’s intentions.
Passion does not always produce love.
Mica Wood Feb 8
Mangonadas for dinner,
or maybe just a snack.
Cooking isn’t my forte—
an unfortunate skill to lack.

But when I was a child,
my brother caught on fire.
He leaned against the stove
as if it were his pyre.

Falling to the floor,
he stopped and dropped and rolled—
and luckily for him
the fire was controlled.

I ran upstairs in terror!
I screamed and I cried!
I thought I’d lost my brother—
I thought that he would die.

Lifting up his shirt,
he showed his big, black scar—
Such a drastic contrast
I could see it from afar.

Anxiety came in,
and never did I learn
to cook myself dinner—
too afraid to burn…
A true account of my first memory with fire.
I will soak my mind in kerosene
and strike the match with my teeth;
I will burn myself to the ground
a thousand times
before I will become
the worst of my natural beast.

Only when there are no options
will the stinging vines trap me there
in the ditch of dark consciousness.
Only then will the mud at my feet
finally seize the rest of me
and feast on my warrior bones.
Faith Cubitt Feb 7
we were nothing.... and i sat there and looked at you like you held the world in your hands, but still we were nothing....
when we looked at each other it was like worlds were colliding,
I could feel the invisible string tugging at us, making it so obvious.
I ached for you.... craved to know what you felt like, what it would feel like to know you and hold you.
you were holding me hostage with just your eyes.
and god, when we touched, just our hands.... it was fire, pure exotic fire, setting ablaze in our souls. telling us.... making it so clear.
how could we not have?
how could we have sat there in front of each other for so many weeks and not just plant the seed that was so ready to bloom, before it was even in the ground?
how could we have let this slip by so silently while crying to be released?
i still ache for you.... tremble for your touch.
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