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Leila U Nov 2018
Tell me about the wicked witch of the west,

Tell me about her black pointy hat,

Her black screeching cat.

The night she flew thru the sky,

The night she touched the stars and danced for the moon,

Her dance a gift and a goodbye.

Tell me more about the wicked witch of the west,

Tell me about her auburn hair as it turned to dust,

Her angel voice, her last scream through the air it ******,

Tell me about her godly form in the flame, her last words whispered

A deep cut through our chest.

Tell me more about my sister,

Tell me about the Wicked Witch of the West.
Kimberly Sep 2018
She stood there unmoving, her back straight
Still as a statue, after a long, torturous wait
With hair fluttering like a smashing sail
Vivid like sunset that seeps through every crevice in the air

Amber eyes burning like the fiery depths of hell
Passion muffled by the angelic smile on her face
With rattling grace she marveled at its perfection
The litheness of its descent enough to set her heart into delirium

It landed with a thud, breaking branches on its wake
Cawing once, the milieu faded on the background
Emblazoned with nameless hues and shades
Now everything else dulls and fades

She reached for an arrow, wondering
Why a thing with feathers on one end
Soft and innocuous as it may seem
Can have a part so inevitably noxious, it’s inane

Stretching the bow as far as it may go
The sound making her flinch all the way through
Her hands, so steady, now quivered ever so slightly
She aimed, the voice in her head screaming finality

For one moment her resolve faltered
Wavering as her stormy gaze softened like snow
The roaring in her ears dulled to a white noise
As the creature turned and snatched her voice

A gust of air escaped from her mouth
Breathing was suddenly impossible
But before the beauty could take off and leave her
A sudden prismatic burst of feathers filled the air
In high school, we were required to read a Filipino epic poem called “Ibong Adarna.” In a nutshell, it is about a magical bird that could heal anything by singing its seven songs. However, these songs could put anyone to sleep almost immediately and once you’re under, it will turn you into stone by dropping its **** on you. I wrote “Artemis” when I was in college, inspired by this magnificent bird and the goddess of hunt herself, hoping I could paint with my words, as was the goal of our literary folio that year called “Canvas.” If you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading this.
Steve Page Sep 2018
The forest of legs swayed in the moving shadows beneath the chatter over head, each threatening to block our path and crush our attempt to get to the first fallen crisps of the party season, which as yet laid undisturbed.

We weaved and advanced as fast as their legs allowed, eager to scavenge the waiting bounty before they were trampled underfoot by the oblivious adults who were intent on a seasonal ritual of their own that went on high over our heads.

We emerged unscathed at the edge of the forest and raced across the open parquet to the cover of the drapped, white topped trestle tables catching our breaths and crunching our snatched crisps planning our next move toward the plateau above.

Our scout had reported rich pickings, but when we looked around, seeking signs of our brave advance party, we could find no trace beyond a half eaten volovant and what might have been regurgitated mushroom. We shook our heads in despair at their folly. Every kid knows to stick to crisps and to processed meats, avoiding anything that might contain vegetables. We saw an open French window just beyond the trestles and heard plaintive heaves that had a distinct 6 year old strain.

We checked each other's resolve and saw on each other's faces that we believed our mission was more important than any one stomach. With a maturity that would have surprised our parents, we pushed the plight of our friend to the back of our minds and focused on the task at hand.

We each reached up with practiced stealth, taking only a second to check the food on offer and with a speed bred into us by the curse of older siblings, we each grabbed our prize.

Acknowledging the hazards of the return journey we devoured the meat at hand and with hyena grins savoured our just rewards. While our fallen friend heaved once more, we saluted one another: the season had started better than any of us could have hoped.
With thanks to Poetry Journal for the inspiration. And, yes, I acknowledge it's not poetic.  But it was fun to write.
AP Vrdoljak Aug 2018
Give me winter
Set me free
From lethargic
Tendency

Let me care
Permit me want
In the chill
Of winter’s hunt
Ira Sosa Aug 2018
Parched in a tree,
Watching the prey with glee.

Seeing them scurry and run without limitation,
Makes me pounce without hesitation.

I grasp the prey sqirumining,
Hearing the voice of them worming.

I clench my claws over there body,
I pierce it’s hide,
And my talons get ******.

It starts shaking with false life, shaking and shaking,
Until it gives in and all the meat is for the taking,
All the death is for the taking.

I parch in a tree to enjoy my feast,
And watch see the sun rising in the east.
Hmmm... I just felt like writing it. So here ******.
Tink Aug 2018
When my boredom kills me,
Imagination becomes pure glee.
I go hunting for you,
With a smile, not feeling blue.
In other people's dreams.
Does it work? Can we get beamed?

I'm hunting for you!
Oh Yes, it's true!
Searching through the forum.
Will it **** my boredom?
Scrolling Up and scrolling down,
Though there is nothing to lift my frown!

Shall I really go hunting for you?
Help me coz I have no clue!
I like the search, I like the hunt.
All done here on Upfront.
And now my hunt for you is done,
Although I smile, this was good fun.
While I've been hunting for you,
It did **** my boredom too!
Brian McDonagh Aug 2018
When the night silently whooshes
Over the sky,
It becomes that time of day,
The time to recline
And watch Dwayne Chapman and friends
Apprehend the wanted and charged
In the Hawaiian splotches of land.
Every cut to commercial
Happens at the ****** of each episode,
Starving the soul for what might happen...
When really the cut-scene continues
With less action than Beth, Dwayne,
Leland, Sonny, Cleo,
And Baby Lyssa may stir before a break.
Cars, cameras, and people
Move in hot-pursuit.
And thus the setting of the TV series
Isn't the only dimension
Captured.
I love Dog the Bounty Hunter lol one of my favorite TV series lately!
Isaac Jul 2018
I want wisdom o so much.
Please tell me where it can be found.
It's the type of treasure I cannot clutch
or dig for underground.
Should I dig into books to find the gold?
If so, which book is the one?
Even if I read it every day till I'm old,
by then would my search be done?
Who are the wisest men on Earth?
What is it that they would know?
Before they all die, it would be so worth
learning where their wisdom will go.
I really want to find the truth
and nail life on the head.
Can I live wise from the time of my youth
till the day I find myself dead?
Written 26 July 2018
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