Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
Cassie Lane Gray, ever so slight of frame
Hit harder than a train, playing her martial games
Cassie ran eight miles a day, and she never strayed
Her routine was tough as iron, her boxing gloves were frayed

Her momma put her in ballet, but later on, she disobeyed
Strapping wraps to wrists, uppercut finisher each day
And when she said she wanted to box, her momma turned away
But she was gonna fight, with no one in her way

Cassie Lane Gray grew up poor in San Jose
Never had much to say, just wanted in the fray
Her ballet, in a way, made her opponents pay
As she moved with dancer's sway, they later would convey

Cassie's family prayed that she would portray
The sweet and simpering visage of a classy dame
But it wasn't in the cards, for Cassie Lane Gray
The "Bantam Weight Ballerina"
A strong young fighting woman
Was in the ring to stay
This poem was inspired by a filthy ragtag tomboy friend that I spent a lot of my youth with.  She was tough as nails and loved to box.  Her parents had tried to put her on the pageant circuit every year, and every year they would find her in a ripped and muddy dress, fighting with the boys.  She was such a wonderful person and despite several state boxing championships, her parents never loved or appreciated her work and accomplishments.  Follow your dreams and don't let anyone try fit you into their mold.
Danté Le Beau Mar 2020
As the cold came forth,

The trees rain pink atop heads,

Of young and old too.
Rescel Mar 2020
Light, light the rose candle
and let it brighten up the night
listen to the story it tells
before it fades by your sight.

Smell, smell its sweet scent
and watch its little flame dance
know, know what it has meant
before you lose your chance.
What does this mean?
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
The weight of love is tremendous;
heavy like gold,
worn like manacles,
bourne by those
with or without it
The tragedy of love is catastrophic;
deeply rooted,
never gentle,
comes and goes
as it pleases
The world of love is pure savagery;
battles raging,
without survivors,
everyone is
love's refugee
The weight of love is tremendous;
Yet still a burden I wish to bear
Everyone thinks this poem is so sad but it's designed as an imagery monologue to remind us that love is something we need in our lives and will always always always have positive and negative implications and effects on our lives.  Hope you enjoy it!
ni Feb 2020
You and I, we weren't
supposed to be compatible.
The horoscopes even said so.

Our lines, they overlap creating mystery.
You wonder if I know what you did.
I wonder if you know what I am doing.

Back and forth on this tightrope of trickery.
"I have too much baggage."
"Well, I could go on a trip around the world twice."

The stars must have aligned in our favor that night.
In that glittering glimpse of hope,
when your lips collided with mine,
we sparked a match that set the city ablaze.
Michael Stefan Feb 2020
Black blood
Pools on a white marble floor
Naked blade
Lying menacingly
Stares at you accusingly
They were there one minute
Gone the next
Slipping through your fingers
Still vermillion shades
Staining fingertips
As you shiver
Shiver so cold
Wishing a thousand wishes
For a friend and truest kindness
To wash you clean
To see your mistakes
And still, see you
Black blood
Pooling between ivory toes
The greatest error of your life
And no one
Is left
To help you clean it up
This is an analogous monologue that describes those moments when we do something we feel extremely bad about and those moments when we wish we had a friend to help us.  Although my imagery is a bit extreme, I think most of us feel extreme emotions during these times that gnaw at us irrationally.
Aa Harvey Feb 2020
Razorblade


Shot a rebel through the heart.
Cancer kills but life is art.
You tried to put a stop to all that we are,
But we are too hot to handle; you can’t grab hold of a star.


Fire your guns; I’m invincible.
Speak your words; I’ve heard them all before.
Condemn a man for condemning your war.
You will never stop what we are.


Your system of control and degrade is beginning to fade.
Push my buttons, I’m a microwave,
Blowing through your wall like a hand grenade.
A tongue so sharp, I’m a razorblade;
Cutting your lies apart…your truth cannot be saved.


(C)2020 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Anonymous Freak Feb 2020
His mouth opens slightly
Releasing smoke
From the big cigar
To float away
Silhouetted by the small town lights.
Windows rolled down
We shiver against the winter air
Blasting into the car,
Puffing cigars
And holding hands.
From series Phone Files
Next page