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Lady Narnia May 2016
Oh, how dark our history is
You, my author of misery and pain
With fingers set to scribble my demise
This is our story, writ with chaotic pen

One that left calamity in its wake

You would always start the chapter
Every page inked with words of black
On the point of a pen, you'd viciously write
Using the sharp edge to stab into my being

Scripting, deeply, my eternal damnation

You erased my name and made me delusional
Always forcing me to your divine will
For the pen, always mightier than the sword
Was kept toward the edge of my neck

Swearing to strike at any given moment

Always determined, I'd end our sentences
Fighting to gain balance and bear the final period
Yet it was not without consequences
For you and I were wrought with scars

Etched into the bottom of our hearts, a burning black

If only these words painted a happy picture
But the thousand only paint a picture of pain
A dreary battle between two broken forces
On timeworn pages, brittle-ing on and on

Begging for the piece that holds our final chapter

And that chapter swiftly came for I was the ending
Leaving in the night, gone without a trace
With no words or ink left as a guiding clue
Carefully escaping from your paper prison

Free from the agony of the writer's press

On that day, I began my life again
Starting a happy story; free, original, and new
A home of letters filled with love, life, and joy
Where I'd never dare see you again, my dear, dear author

And never bleed black from your miserable weapon
M-E Jun 2019
I didn't go to work today
Instead, I went to the forest
I ve seen the working bees
I ve seen the enthusiastic ants
Even I ve seen beetles
Taking dung
And roll a ball out of it
Enjoying lunch and the AC
Gant Haverstick Dec 2016
She stood at the edge.  It was winter and
the lake was frozen.  Teenagers skated
in the distance.  They held hands and glided
in circles, laughing.  She wondered how they
missed the cracks.  The giant cracks.  Maybe they
saw them and just didn't care.  She closed her
eyes and breathed in, letting the cold air fill
her lungs.  Blades scraped and voices faded.  She
then opened her eyes and began to shout.
Gant Haverstick 2016
Lady Ravenhill Sep 2018
Morning reflections
Through a steamy cup-a-joe
Dance across each page
@ladyRavenhill 2018
Haiku #56
avalon Sep 2019
you say it is a "noble thing" to "be the same person to everyone" as if that is a choice that i know how to make. you criticize my defense mechanisms unaware that you activate them in doing so. don't you understand that your wise and less than well-intentioned words perpetuate the behavior you claim to hate? i don't know how to stop changing without changing first.

i guess i am doomed to displease you. my mistake.
OpenWorldView Nov 2019
across time and space
love plays with weightless longing
sadness covers all
Inspired by "Silk"
from "Alessandro Baricco"
Marya123 Nov 2019
If my life were a book, written in ink,
It would tell a tale brought back from the brink
With sentences well constructed with rhyme,
Of inkblots made by wasting precious time,
Of full-stops, colons, and commas galore,
Filled with desire to learn, and explore,
Aging sheets of regret pondering the past,
Some wondering how long the story will last.
Only Death takes away this humble pen
It's just a small matter of how and when-
This book won't ever be a bestseller
But it will be honest- a truth-teller
That's unfinished and revised endlessly,
Until it joins the pages of history.
Mikey Kania Dec 2019
every written text
regardless what it is about and
how it might be categorized

every written text
is a ghetto of words.

since words do not decide
who they are paired with;
they neither have a body nor a will.

but take at look at their "ghettos":
that humans call "fiction":
marvelous places made of fantasies.

look at them.


for... real: could i please be a word in my next form of existence?
Heaven yeah.
M-E Mar 2019
I read my first attempt
writing a novel
And I stopped
And then I started another one
And then I stopped and I laughed
And I laughed and I laughed
Pandora's box of hysterical laughs

I laughed
not like I am making fun of myself
or my writings
I laughed on the coiled thoughts
on a spool
Slipping on the tile, through my pen
And sewn the fabric of my skin
On a paper

I laughed
on the thought
Who thought prose would leave
Crumbs and phrases
To more prose
To more thoughts
To more poems

On the roads
On miles and miles of landscapes
One thousand and one escapes
Drawn on the attempts and the tries
That I laughed at

I laughed
On ten minutes readings
Within lunch break and a nap
Made poems as an open tap
And who thought
It will be posted
To be loved

I read my first attempts
writing a novel
And I laughed hysterically
Not like I am mad
But I am glad
Who thought my dreams
Are achievable


I did.
My dream is to write a poem book. And I will. :)
Jeff Gaines Apr 2018
Hello everyone,

  I'm so very sorry … I feel horrible doing this, but I have no choice. You see, I have published my first book on Amazon/Kindle! This piece (and many others) had to be taken down because they do not allow published material to be available online for free. (Go figure) I wanted to leave the shell of the posts because I felt compelled to leave all your helpful and loving comments. (Silly sentimental, I know), but I also didn't want to just have the pieces disappear without an explanation. I feel bad enough as it is!

  I owe ALL of you so, SO much for all of your reads, love, and support. It was YOU that gave me the gumption to FINALLY get off my **** and publish! Thank you all for the warm comments, camaraderie, and encouragement! I will still be here, reading, uploading and just being the Rascal that I am. How could I EVER leave you guys?

  The book is called “The Way I See It – FictionPhilosophySoul Food” and it will be FREE for the first few days on Kindle Select, so watch for it, if you are interested. I hope that you go and grab it. If you do, I would also hope that you find it worthy, you would leave me a good review. That will help me get in the public eye! Soon afterward (2-3 days or so), it will be available in paperback.

Find the book(s) here:

Or find the book(s), and all about me, here:

  Soon after, I also hope to have my first novel (a supernatural thriller), called “Wanderer” available as well!

  Wish me luck!
Big, Biggest Love,
        Jeff Gaines
It is so sad to see someone change and then have to ponder whether this was them becoming someone else ... or if they were somehow fooling you all along and that now, you are seeing the real them for the first time.

noun: caprice; plural noun: caprices
a sudden and unaccountable change of mood or behavior.
"her caprices had made his life impossible"
synonyms: whim, whimsy, vagary, fancy, fad, quirk, eccentricity, foible More
another term for capriccio.

noun: capriccio; plural noun: capriccios
a lively piece of music, typically one that is short and free in form.
a painting or other work of art representing a fantasy or a mixture of real and imaginary features.
Tipon Mar 2019
Sand through my fingers. Seth is watching, 4 million

counting. A quiet myth, post or pre- natal, we don't

understand the breeze and twilight. Wishing, upon

multiple stars, dad could be here with us. A sentimental

thing, sis is happy being married. Counting white flowers

in the fields by the old churchyard. Weather report, the

mainland hazards always maximized, pointing. Seth's

hair in the wind, masking his face 4 a moment. Dutch

dikes, incandescent strong as they stand concrete above...

My brother, & my junior, and me, standing by his grave...
Topic Holland & Home. (Dad paternal line: Jewish & English)
Patience to be Written makes your Hallmark great
There is a Reason why your Pinnacle Shines
For Eight Years my Trek to Romance, debate
Lands on this Heart-Store where She would be mine
You, the Good Luthor, a Genious at that
Wrote the Novel which many Hearts consign
No need for Feathers, Leather, Pen or Hat
This Shop is your Notebook; Your Magnum Design
A fitting Homage to Love's Best Element
Where Hopeful Couples brew their Best Story
Succeed, then many leave your Doors, content
Ready to return for one more Glory.
That Arrow still stings like your Love's First Bite
This Hope I savour to Grow Up in-spite.
Hisham Alshaikh Jul 2018
I will be honest like every time or at least most of the time
I do not even know where to start or begin

I rather to say I do not know where this journey would end
The graveyard or the warm heaven’s arms

I still do not know if I want to fight and hold my weapon high
I am still wounded from some of previous fights

I am currently kneeling with my sword exhausted and tired
On my knees scarred because of battles only god knows

I’ve a feeling that I want to stand up with my sword raised up high
Turning obstacles and differences into triumphs

What a strange feeling I get when we are even a little apart
A feeling that motivates me to pick this novel fight

Not sure if I’m trying to build a one-sided bridge between hearts
A bridge with destination of nothing but a pool of fire

Everyday I wish for hints, clues or whatever helps
I just need to know that this is not just a vacation’s play, cause I'll pay

There will be no hurt feelings every journey has it own lessons
Things that need to be known in the beginning of every such journey
Parker Aug 2018
Straight out of a book, her life crafts pages
The lover who waits until the leaves fall off the trees
and all the people go home, leaving the streets as empty
as the box buried under her porch with all the places
she's never been
Why does the sky spell your name once the candle's burnt out
and lust becomes a taunting game?
The shallow part of the soul has a hole in it
and every time I try to mend it, it gets bigger
Bigger like the stories of love that fill her head
A romance that dances with the stars but will leave you
as fast as the wind will blow that plastic bag into the sky
When you touch fire, the burn never disappears
She will though
Off to the next novel with different storylines but similar endings
Off to the next heart she can dive into and tell a story about the girl
who was looking for something deeper
Something that's worth keeping you awake at night
Something, at one point, I thought we had
My chapter was different though, I believe
My burn never healed
and the years dripped away until our worlds were striped of paint
and all of life was brushed up and tossed into that box under her porch, with just enough space to add something more
I hear a whisper in the wind telling me the depths of life is
consumed by a portrait that doesn't exist yet
and time is only relevant to those who aren't searching deeper
I hear you
and feel your heart
pounding under the silence left in me from the night I realized you
weren't coming home
and my love was kept in a glass heart that she now uses to keep her books straight
Though every once in awhile, you hold it and think of the boy
who's heart was just enough to last until the end
To last until you closed the book and start writing again
Lone Luna Dec 2015
Is it weird that I miss crying
Like crying because of
a good movie
a sad novel
a soulful song
or perhaps because
it hurts so bad
that all you can do is cry
and I miss it
because now
I just feel so numb
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