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Nathalie Anna Jun 2014
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Moriah Harrod Aug 2012
Today I wrote to you. I haven’t seen you in seven months and sixteen days, as of 10 AM this morning. Only two weeks left. It seems unreal… It also seems that to write to you is all I have. So this morning I sat at my desk, and I opened my mind to all the things I could have said to you, but never thought to.

Do you remember the first day we met? It was in the café on Franklin Blvd. You were wearing your grey Fedora, a Hurley shirt, and those burnt sienna penny loafers we’d make so much fun of later.

I was at the table by the window, and I couldn’t help but notice you. Three of your fingernails were painted yellow, and you wore a bunch of beaded hemp bracelets on your right wrist. They looked Bohemian to me, but one day you explained the difference in that and Jamaican. You were singing a little tune while waiting in line. Later, you’d call it your “little ditty,” and you’d sing it all the time. You always said things like that, & I always fell in love with you more.

You ordered a vanilla cappuccino and a plain English muffin. I looked down at the same half-eaten muffin and cold cappuccino in front of me. I wondered why it seemed that I knew you already.

You sat down at a table a few feet away from me. You took off your penny loafers and took a handheld game of Yahtzee out of your pocket to accompany your breakfast. I was perplexed that you hadn’t noticed me staring yet.

Ah, there it was. You looked over at me. You must have sensed me by then. Immediately you smiled that half-smile you would always do, a mix between a condescending smirk and a boyishly cute pride. It was altogether endearing. You raised your eyebrows and nodded, as if we’d known each other for years. I admired your charmingly playful introduction. I would soon call you sweet pea.

………………

It was eight months ago today that you told me you were leaving. Your large brown eyes were full of promise and sorrow. I dropped my half-full coffee mug, and it spilled all over the carpet. The cat ran to lick it up, and was disappointed when the taste was utterly bitter. In other circumstances, I would have laughed and pointed it out to you, and we’d admire the cat’s zealous naïveté.

However, the cat had but a split-second of my stolid attention before my eyes met yours again, and I felt paralyzed. I asked what you meant, and you repeated yourself.

You told me of Jacob and all he meant to you. I cried when you told me how God and all his goodness took a sixteen year-old boy and his giant heart away from this world, away from his brother. You also told me how you’d avoided him for over three years before his death.

I was in disbelief that you’d never told me of him. You just looked down and said you’d had no room in your selfish green world for his coal-black sickness. Then you told me of his letter before he passed, asking one thing from each person he cared about. To help the world in a way they never would have done before, to somehow leave a legacy in his name.

My stomach felt sick. My baked-apple oatmeal felt at the tip of my tongue. How could this be happening to you? I instantaneously let go of any would-be grudge against you for being kept from the cruelly and sickeningly beautiful reality attacking your heart.

For I could see in your eyes that you were tearing your soul to shreds. You explained how in your peaceful aura had been a mask, a denial of the sickness slowly claiming your brother, waiting it out. For he couldn’t die. He would simply be better one day, and you were waiting for that. But, he did die. And you already knew what your mission would be.

You were leaving in two weeks from that day. You were flying to Africa with the church your brother had been devoted to since the diagnosis four years before this day. You’d spend eight months with the church members in Africa, working with children in a third-world country. Anything you donated would be in the name of Jacob Meyers.

You had talked about this with your family, and they agreed it would please Jacob and the legacy he had asked for. I at once stated that I was going too. My belittled heart broke cleanly in two when you told me how you had to go alone, that Jacob wanted a noble mission.

He had explained that he wanted someone to do selfless work in his name. How in order to give truly, you must give all. I knew you felt that you had to give the largest part, for you’d been the most selfish to avoid him. I let you keep your dignity and, broken, I accepted what you were doing. If anything, I loved you so much more for it.

Sorrowfully and dutifully we packed bags to attend his funeral. I never told you this, but I read four novels on sibling death. I wanted to take your hand in mine and feel what you were going to feel when you saw him laying there.

………………

In two weeks I will see you again. I will travel to the airport and pick you up and time will move once again. I often wonder how spectacularly, or marginally, you will have changed.

I have your loafers, your fedora, and your faded Hurley shirt ready to wear to the café where we met when you come back.




To my faux Jamaican sweet pea,
I miss you.
Though I have personally experienced the emotions in this poem, the setting, characters, content are actually fiction. I really appreciate the feedback though.

Like I have explained in my biography, I am not a creator of stories; they are floating all around us. I'm just the messenger to share them.
tamia Oct 2016
dear icarus,

i've watched you toil your youth away
all because you have been growing your wings of freedom
to be freed from the life you are locked in

with your calloused hands,
you have put on your wings of feathers and wax,
you are ready to fly across oceans
and escape from this labyrinth
of loneliness and fatigue

but icarus, remember those wings may break
you're shining boyishly, you're coming close to all those stars like stage lights
after aching and fading in the dark
you are seeing the sun for the first time
and it is all you want
but even the brightest and prettiest of lights can burn you out

icarus, come back safely
remember the world beneath you
and the love that the earth
has given you all these years
fly back down here
and i will do all i can to keep you safe.
before the ocean of wreckage pulls you into its depths
and it is too late
some people shine after so much suffering and hard work, but they fade out. it scares me.
Sheila Jacob Mar 2016
He's hunkered down
for the night,
I know this toasted
do-not-disturb-me
duvet-bundled shape.

I won't disturb him
though he snores,
grunts, filches
more duvet from
my half of the bed.

His hair's
too boyishly tousled
on the pillow,
his familiar spine
so purpose-built

for lying
beside, nuzzling
against, sneaking
my arm around
in the dark.
DieingEmbers Dec 2012
You Love me now
but what bout then
when
I was like those other men
brash and crude boyishly rude
toying with women like my food
I wasn't me not then not yet
so would you have loved me.. had we met
I bet
you wouldn't have couldn't have any sense you shouldn't have
best to know me now matured with age
the silver Tongue the gilt edged page
love me now forget my past
now that the dye of embers cast.
A sweet, what a sweet dream it was
Wherein thou kissed me just like in the past
Among the cynical; yet boyishly handsome rain
A miracle was happening over and over again.

And I didst curse, curse the perilous morning
That rolled in with its chilliest epithet!
Within there hearts it is but dark and unbecoming,
the worst tears human minds shalt ever shed.

But how it kept coming, tumbling down-
onto my screeching night and dawn.
Now finally all have dwindled away,
and back I am; on this sunny, lonely day.
Cece Aug 2012
wrapping a big comforter around my shoulders
raises the brim of my smile to a curve,
kisses brushing the tip of my nose, dancing glances across the room, that laugh, letting me run my fingers through your boyishly conditioned hair, smelling fresh hot coffee, staying up late enough to watch the sun rise, swimming underwater with goggles, fulfilling true self enjoyment, warm embraces
and life changing conversations.

those are the things that draw me to your internal magnetic soul
and **** me in to this
magical world of essence.
I wrote this while I was high lol.
Norbert Tasev Mar 2021
Accompanied by sorrow and danger, a seagull scream splits through the air with lightning speed! The silly mood of happy hearts was soon challenged; trapping, false promises! With the unstoppable temper of the sea waves, it swells and the slap of my chasms and all the petty old-fashioned blows, the blade-sharp criticism of the sword against another deliberate Judgment against My Humanity are growing in me! The suffocating Solitude is already decomposing in everyone; trusting hearts are revealed to you with traps!
 
The wandering wanderer of split spaces: something constantly pursuing and encouraging, with my wandering destiny, deliberately confronting itself in the deserved dreams of the Universe! It breaks into pieces year after year, month after month My soul narrows boyishly and squeaks in its uncertain chasm; your gentle shock only a few researchers can’t understand! He who carries my chubby face lives in me and as a copy kid you get after a lost star! A swallowing career vortex flashes in the wreck of the unpredictable Future!
 
Sensationalist World spits on everyone first, then chews well on daredevils, minute-human, hysterical cedars grab fame cheaply! My selfishness can keep me awake alone; I stumble hesitantly, cluttered with myself, I confess my things are done! "I became a fugitive-wild as an alien emigrant among the former Human-Celeb craze!" My soul refraction is dull, I have suffered timed wounds on the lies of fools!
 
I guess if I die as a counterpoint in the rich, spawned light, will the immortal Beloved be lifted up with his golden-hearted nobility?
As if accidentally
a Sunday fell over me
apologetically at first
mumbling a prayer or it
could have been a curse

stumbling down the street
going somewhere else to meet
someone else
drunkenly swaying to the
chorus of bird song.

Presently
which is always later than I think
I too
fell into a steaming coffee
and with no apology
yawned.

The sun
hiding in the branches of a tree
winks boyishly or maybe girlishly
at me
I'm not sure about the sun, but it's
a bit of fun guessing.

Trying to spread my wings
I found it's
no use using butter.
Alexis Nov 2014
Those hands,
Bring my waist to his,
Those hands,
Trail and fall along my back.
Gripping my ***,
Hands full as he lifts my body,
I am weightless,
In his kiss.
No feet on the ground,
I'm his.

Together on that battered love seat,
Our legs entwined.
We laugh as the hours,
Trail behind.
He plays with my hair,
Takes my hand,
And watches me.
Oddly aware of every move I make,
Blushing.
"What, baby?"
I ask but I know,
He's thinking of me.
He smiles almost,
Boyishly.

The day fades to night.

"As much as I don't want to,"
He begins.
I know it's time for this,
To end.
I gather my scattered clothes,
From the floor of every room,
In his apartment.

Smiling at the memories,
In every corner.
He makes me feel like I can finally get,
My **** in order.
Barton D Smock Apr 2017
what in the history of blood
has blood
discovered

mom is hanging laundry from the future

regret is still looking
for a god

I learn cocoon
and boyishly
cross my legs

the lightning
when you saw it
was it clean
ali Jan 2021
Allow my ponderous hands to guide yours
And let the tips of your fingers linger
Longer along the depths of my shadowy halls
Until our souls shall meet

Lay your head boyishly on the bones of my collar
And I will rest mine tirelessly on yours
As our temples graze gracefully against one another
Until my thoughts tangle with yours
And we doze to the same dream

Press your chest firmly unto mine
And I will pull you closer
As my lungs sacrifice even the slightest huff of air
Until the spaces between us fade
Until my heart can hear the faintest whispers of your heart
And together, they beat to the same song
Norbert Tasev Dec 2021
Accompanied by sorrow and danger, a seagull scream splits through the air with lightning speed! The silly mood of happy hearts was soon challenged; trapping, false promises! With the unstoppable temper of the sea waves, it swells and the slap of my chasms and all the petty old-fashioned blows, the blade-sharp criticism of the sword against another deliberate Judgment against My Humanity are growing in me! The suffocating Solitude is already decomposing in everyone; trusting hearts are revealed to you with traps!
 
The wandering wanderer of split spaces: something constantly pursuing and encouraging, with my wandering destiny, deliberately confronting itself in the deserved dreams of the Universe! It breaks into pieces year after year, month after month My soul narrows boyishly and squeaks in its uncertain chasm; your gentle shock only a few researchers can’t understand! He who carries my chubby face lives in me and as a copy kid you get after a lost star! A swallowing career vortex flashes in the wreck of the unpredictable Future!
 
Sensationalist World spits on everyone first, then chews well on daredevils, minute-human, hysterical cedars grab fame cheaply! My selfishness can keep me awake alone; I stumble hesitantly, cluttered with myself, I confess my things are done! "I became a fugitive-wild as an alien emigrant among the former Human-Celeb craze!" My soul refraction is dull, I have suffered timed wounds on the lies of fools!
 
I guess if I die as a counterpoint in the rich, spawned light, will the immortal Beloved be lifted up with his golden-hearted nobility?!
Norbert Tasev Jun 2021
Accompanied by sorrow and danger, a seagull scream splits through the air with lightning speed! The silly mood of happy hearts was soon challenged; trapping, false promises! With the unstoppable temper of the sea waves, it swells and the slap of my chasms and all the petty old-fashioned blows, the blade-sharp criticism of the sword against another deliberate Judgment against My Humanity are growing in me! The suffocating Solitude is already decomposing in everyone; trusting hearts are revealed to you with traps!
 
The wandering wanderer of split spaces: something constantly pursuing and encouraging, with my wandering destiny, deliberately confronting itself in the deserved dreams of the Universe! It breaks into pieces year after year, month after month My soul narrows boyishly and squeaks in its uncertain chasm; your gentle shock only a few researchers can’t understand! He who carries my chubby face lives in me and as a copy kid you get after a lost star! A swallowing career vortex flashes in the wreck of the unpredictable Future!
 
Sensationalist World spits on everyone first, then chews well on daredevils, minute-human, hysterical cedars grab fame cheaply! My selfishness can keep me awake alone; I stumble hesitantly, cluttered with myself, I confess my things are done! "I became a fugitive-wild as an alien emigrant among the former Human-Celeb craze!" My soul refraction is dull, I have suffered timed wounds on the lies of fools!
 
I guess if I die as a counterpoint in the rich, spawned light, will the immortal Beloved be lifted up with his golden-hearted nobility?

— The End —