Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
devante moore Jan 2015
I was there
Hidden plainly in the open
What you think your the only one who wasn't seen
Think you had it tough?
Yeah I know living in a house with a witch and her three side kicks was tough
I grew up with a dad constantly out of scene
There's no pictures of him in the house
He wasn't around long enough to say cheese
Had a mom bashing me
Thrashing me with words
But you got a fairy god mother
How about throwing me a fairy go papa
No that's just obscene
Doesn't makes sense
So I sat in the back
Wondering if the girl who's never noticed would notice me
Wrong of me to think that
To amazed by the flashing wand
And her circus tricks
I'm not going to lie  
Turning the rats into shinny black horses was kind of slick
There coats glistening under the moon light
Just a snorting and whipping there tails in the air
And two more into coachmen
Wonder if they valet park that pumpink too
Let's not forget that dress an matching shoes
You got until twelve
That's lame could've done a trick to give you some extra time too
It's only 9 old lady come on
Oh well ***** it but I'm coming too
Let me just sneak onto this coach
I might as well just get in you two still ignoring me
But no I'll get in the back where I can't be seen
Your finally in
Onwards your coachmen scream
One shooting his whip in the air
Making a cracking noise
You would think it would be a smooth ride
But nooo
These **** wheels hit every bump and rock on the road
Just tossing me around in the back
This is not how you treat a stowaway
But we're here now thank god
I jump out the back
As you go trotting up the stairs in your fancy clothes
I'm in rags that don't match
And let's not forget about the holes
I'm not dress right I suppose
I hit one of your lil coachmen
With a sneak attack an steal his clothes
Don't worry I'll give them back
I shoot up the stairs still putting on these tight *** shoes
Through the Corridors
Stopping to look at the pictures
Ooh what a fine as queen
Getting to distracted back on root
I make a left then right then another right
Crap I'm lost
I retrace my steps
Oh look a sign that says ball
I bust in like a mad man trying to stop a wedding
No it's not that people I'm just late
But you all fancy rich white folk don't care
Didn't even look me way
And I'm dressed so nice
To busy with your noses stuck in the air like the ceiling is going somewhere
I get a nod from a cute waitress
Looks likes these clothes doing the trick
I make my way to the buffet all you can eat? What that's me
Time flies when you crash a ball an steal there food
It's 11:59
Crap got to beat you to the door
I dash pash you stepping on your shoes
At least it slowed you down
Shoot past the corridor
Reached your coachmen
Gave him his clothes and some cheese
Hopped in the back
And now I'm home free
I had a blast I must say
Looks like being unnoticed has its perks
Let's do it again tomorrow
If your small *** feet don't hurt
I'm not going to lie I had fun doing this one and yea sorry it's long and long is not my forte but eh :)
punk rock hippy Nov 2014
I'm getting desperate cuz I'm getting distant.
The royal coachmen is the trailer park I used to live in.
Pinecones, stray cats and the candy man.
In the kitchen I dug a hole for a mouse to live in.  
For God's sake momma, could you puke a little quieter, don't let dad know you're sick cuz this house isn't a home when you're gone.
Cold mornings ****** doo blankets and hospital beds.
Dad tells me mom is sick again.
The hospital is no place to live in.
God ****** dad step up, make this a place to live in.

At 5 years old, my momma asks her momma to move in.

I'm getting distant cuz I'm getting desperate.
A little town named Charleston.

When you walk up the side walk and you see the willow, just know it's weeping because it's heard everything.  

Just to let you know there's a piece of glass in the side walk, not diamond.
I know that cuz I bent too many butter knives trying to make a fortune.

Yellow walls, barn cats and god.

It took me 12 years to find somewhere to believe in.
Home challenge

I forced myself to write this
I hate writers block
Douglas Beights Mar 2014
Unpleasant fingers that make a noise that I'm not comfortable with,
Not on my watch will you slander the name of her Boar.
Under the dandruff wigs of fellow coachmen,
I stand and say: Follow the path of preferred map-tracks,
Disregarding the glass of subtle milk,
Disregarding the shattered plastic, all, over, my, head,
Believing in a higher power, is, what, I, said,
Kevin, you need to leave me alone now,
I hate the paperboy.
Enter with me into the perfumed garden
And I shall share it with you to see.
The plants with their mating dance have already begun
Taking in the sun, the earth, the moon, the common bee,
The wind, the water – all apart of the garden’s flowering.
Every road, every footpath, every by-way does end
But they are all bordered with pinks, reds and wandering
Blues – waxed and un–waxed, tall and short with many a trend.
We are all a part of the flowering of the kingdom of Eden.
But this is my garden of truth.
A sharp swish of branch with no resin’s scent in this place.
No coarse weeds or taste of bark, only truth to sleuth
Out the fruit that lies under the covering of the human race.
Over there, do you not see the “pair” there?
Watch as they remember when they were placed on this earth.
In this garden, in those bodies, they move about here
Laughing, dancing, singing of their worth.
Their fruit undercover aching for the morning light.
Ripened pears wadded into clothing protected from frost,
Sweet melons, almost ripe, smothered in an airtight
Corsage, clinging to the fullest of crisscrossed stalks.
When the spring comes to this garden we see the perfection
Of balance between male and female qualities reflected
In the flowers’ blooms, a silhouetted combined reflection
Of male and female where the pears cling to the branch granted
Residence – Or the melon – sun bleached and **** to the taste.
For this is beauty, beauty without strength, the smallest of fingers
Reaching high into the sky, the pathway made of twigs,
Spiced heads, reddish pink stalks, with leaves like beggars
Straining to turn toward the lighted prigs.
Oh ye of little faith just look at the earth as the garden that it is.
Taste the fruit of nature’s wisdom and let spring come to your garden.
For it is we who renews the earth and all that we have to do to pass the quiz.
Use the earth’s resources wisely for we are the coachmen
Who drives the earth forward into the light.
We are like fruit clinging to a branch calling out our birthright –
This earth is our earth and we have only this chance to get it right.
When you struggle the most just look to Mother Nature. She's always there ready to take your breath away.
John F McCullagh Mar 2018
She had, she knew, been careless,
But what’s a girl to do?
It’s hard to watch the clock
when a Prince asks to dance with you.

At the first stroke of Midnight
She turned and fled the ball.
Other than one glass slipper,
she’d left no trace at all.

Her coach turned back to a Pumpkin.
Her rat coachmen scurried home.
Her gown turned back to homespun.
Her splendor all had been on loan.

The Prince had been heartbroken,
She was ever on his mind.
The girl who danced into his heart,
then left her shoe behind.

He knew he had to find that girl
And ask her for her hand.
She must become the princess
of his tiny far off land.

The Prince set off upon his quest,
The glass slipper in his hand
He meant to try the shoe
on every damsel in the land.

The day came when her stepsisters
were asked to try the shoe.
As both of them wore size thirteen
They simply wouldn’t do.

The wicked stepmom then broke the shoe
Before Cinderella had her chance
To slip into the slipper
that she’d lost at the dance.

As the Prince prepared to turn away
Our girl knew what to do
She slipped her hand into her pocket
and produced the other shoe.
"It was somewhere in a fairy tale..."   Harry Chapin

— The End —