Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Water flows, as if racing itself to the end of its path.
The dark blue sky is alight with alluring purples and pinks,
with nebulae like otherwordly glistening waves.
Silence surrounds and embraces every being nearby,
as peaceful as even the sweetest of melodies.

Colorful flowers of blue, yellow, and pink grow scattered on a river’s shoreline,
jewels upon nature’s crown.
The river’s lifeblood runs blue, matching the Iris and Brunnera that line its own edges,
enchanting any who lay eyes on them.
Small whitecaps develop, a blemish upon the serenity,
even in complete beauty, nature’s imperfection manifests.

A forest grove spreads nearby,
green leaves and crimson red flowers swirl from shadowy, thick shrubbery.
A purple-blue glow emanates from bulbous pods along the outer edges, pinned on bushes like ornaments.
Pines, towering stalks that pierce towards the enticing but dim sky loom overhead.
There waits within the grove a tender darkness, holding secrets seen by few.

A campfire blazes, illuminating the surrounding tranquility,
warm red-orange flame whipping and snapping back and forth.
Adjacent rocks are scalded black, torched by an agitated inferno.
Sparks are lifted to the ether like minuscule fireworks,
before crashing down to the grass below, as if bombing the terrain.

These wilds are a mystery,
touched by few, but experienced by many.
They await all of us, close by at all times,
but many lack the sight to see them.
If you enter these wilds, enjoy your time,
but do not attempt to control them.
Simply hold on, and enjoy the naturalistic beauty.
It could be yours.
(Poem partially meant to set the scene for an upcoming short story.)
Within the seconds between night
And day,
In dusk and in dawn,
I dwell in the grey
And balance the moon and the sun.
Isabella May 15
I heard your name in the whispers of the waves
I heard you call in the whistles of the wind
So I ran through the water into your arms
I threw myself into your cold embrace
I watched your face as you kissed my lips
And pulled me into the water’s bed
Isabella May 13
Her broken heart and broken wings were all her clouded eyes could see.
She waited for the fog to clear, seeing a world made blurry from her tears.
Fading like a loveless kiss, fond memories resurfaced of joy and bliss.
Then waves pulled her into the raging sea, and all she was left with were two broken wings.
they keep running out like roll film before me
pictures clicking away faster than i can see
never repeating old faces flashing by
who are you? perhaps seen once in a lullaby
projector is strangely static - the cartridge drops
still it’s going and it’s going and it never stops
nothing! nothing but it’s all over my fingertips
smudged on my forehead and dripping from my lips
i cannot perceive these silverscreens
tangible airs or figments of my dreams
going and going until it tears and rips
nothing! endless nothings all over my fingertips
Isabella May 2
Autumn light spills over the land, the golden sunshine barely peeking over the snow-topped mountains.
A soft breeze sweeps under the orange leaves, urging them into flight as they then drift swiftly into the distance.
A warm hue shines on the blades of grass, reflecting a clear image onto the still, glass pond.
Trees sway hesitantly, casting crooked shadows on the weaving path.
As the last traces of the day dissipate, the planet slipping into a restless slumber, a cool silver mist filters out any last color.
A blurry world stares back at me, chilling wind grabbing hold of my ankles like ice-cold fingers against my bones.
Threatening to pull me down, force clean air into my lungs, pressing on my chest until I have no choice but to inhale, breathing in the crisp fog with sputtering coughs.
Shivers prickle my skin, dancing up my spine and down my arms.
My vision shakes as tears well up in my eyes.
I let my gaze fall one last time on everything around me, taking in the beauty of nature before the light will vanish completely.
A dark world is gut-wrenching when all the lovely things that make Earth precious are clouded by shades of black.
Why open your eyes at night when it will be just the same as what you see when you close them.

The scene fades out of view as I’m forced out of my fond memories at the sound of crying.
The red leaves on the trees, covering the grass, and even swirling in the air shift suddenly into blinding flames, swallowing any lush vision from before.
The evening mist transforms into smoke, sirens and screams wailing in my ears, ricocheting in my mind.
Any calm feeling that had come from my daze snaps out of existence, so quickly it is almost as if it was never even there, as I turn to see the real world burning and falling apart around me.
A vignette. I am very proud of this poem and what it means to me <3
Thomas W Case Apr 24
I nurture the creator in you;
the little god that throbs to be master of
words and colors, lines and notes.
I watch you give birth to it.
I see how it squeezes out of
your brain and crawls across
the floor- all ****** and wet.
It's alive and glorious and grotesque.
You're immortal- a giver of life.
I hold it to my face, and breathe in
the smell of rain, pine trees, and desire.
I kiss its fur, and taste the
fires of hell, cardamom, and oysters, raw and sweet.
I feed it a bowl of saffron threads, soaked in milk,
stare into its wild black eyes; I can hear
it hum a tune in B flat minor, and I wonder,
whose seed is this?
Teea Apr 23
I have loved you since the day that I saw you. Sitting
on the windowsill. Young and naive—you were young and mean.
But different. Careful, paternal, Dependable.
I pour out half of my heart in an SMS format.

Ignored with a wet wing. It would dry. I distanced
We distanced. I ate a danish to make me feel full. No fruit.
My legs shook. Your name made me quiver.
Next turn of the sun there you were. Standing

in the stairwell, happy, friendly, New.
I fell down a rabbit hole. I can’t get back up
Your friend… another. I’m waiting for you in a peach dress.
Your eyes are blinded by the smell of honey. Sweet.

It stings you. You run away.
You came home. I smell like vanilla and cinnamon.
Pushing my warmth away you crave the snow.
Chocolate, chocolate that’s all you are.

‘Swounds. I clean them too. Soft and patient, it stings.
The alcohol helps, I cure. You scratch at the scab.
****** Mary; I am not your mom, I take a sip.
Your trust in my hands, Your heart on your sleeve.
Awaiting my heart to dissolve in your tea like Vitamin C.
Next page