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rey Mar 2019
seconds
minutes
hours
days.
insanity creeping
with little droplets

plink..
.....plink...
.............plink....

nightmare­s
churn through
the dark thoughts
while listening
to the droplets

plink..
.....plink...
.............plink....

you tighten the bolts
the echo repeats
in your head,
the drops keep
dropping rhythmically

plink..
.....plink...
.............plink....

screaming and ringing
in your ears
become louder
and sync with the droplets.

plink..
.....plink...
.............plink....

yelling and groaning
at this faucet
pushes you over the edge
with the hammer in hand.

plink...

but you realize
the droplets
weren’t the problem

it was all in your head.
guilty or just impatient?
Paula Swanson Jul 2010
Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

Plink..plinkplink...flip, *****, ****, plink.
Donk, donkdonk, plink, doink, ****.
Flipflap..****, plinkplink, doink.
Doink, doinkdoink, whirrrrrr, buzzzzzzzz ****.

"Oh ****".

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

Plink, doinkbink, flipflap, bink.
Twirrrrrrrrtwirrrrrrrr, twirrrrrrr *****.
flipflap.....clunk

"Oh....Man"!

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

P­linkplinkboinkdoink...flip...bonk shhhupduuuup.
****, doink, *****, shuuuup.
plink, ploinkploink, **** doink.
booooouuuuupboooooouuuup...*****
flipflap...clunk

"Shoot"­!

Sssttttuhhp....clunk.

plinkplinkplinkplink, doink flipflap, bonk, *****, twirrrrrr.
doink, *****, bonk, wuuuuuup, twirrrrrr, puurrrrrrrr.
plink, ploink, doinkdoink, purrrrrrrr, shuuuuupshuuuup
plinkplinkplink, doink, flip, doink, flip, trrrruuuuurrrrp.

"YES"!  (shakes machine)

TILT!  TILT! TILT!

"NOooooooooo"!
Addison René Jul 2014
time flies by
and so does the wind against my window pane
rain drops concoct a symphony:
plink
plink
plink
my body is comfortably numb
though,
my thoughts are quite the opposite

time flies by and so do the feelings inside my head
they are lost
searching for some sort of salvation,
searching for you,
running,
walking,
crawling
for you.

time flies by and so do my memories of you
i revisit them
the good, the bad,
and the broken
if it's healthy-
it hurts
if it's haunting-
it hurts.

time flies by while i waste away in bed
and i wonder if you are,
too.
this is terribly written and i apoligize but my tenth grade creative writing teacher loved it so *******.
Sheeda Apr 2013
Drop a stone in a well
And wait for it to
Splash into the water depths
You feel
Exist
Interminable seconds pass
And the echo of contact
Does not bounce up the stony sides
A white pebble
Gleamless as it falls through dark darker
Than pitch at midnight
Falls
And nothing more
The consummation of sound
Is never made
It won't be
And yet
You wait
With an ear to the yawning mouth
You wait
Perhaps forever
For the satisfaction
The confirmation
Of a plink at the bottom of a well.
Wednesday May 2014
Summer raining on the Eastern seaboard
I liked you better before November, personally

There are metal shards floating in this bathwater
Their own tiny islands of pain
A mirror in shards face up on the floor
Guess that is just another 7 years of bad luck

Pennies are dropping into the bathtub
Copper going plink plink plink
Tiny rivulets running their paths

That's just the sound of my lifeline going down the drain, again
Smells like metal and tastes like pain
Red river gushing from my veins

Locked door trying to staunch the flow of secrets
Head swimming to the tile floor
clink clink clink

Scars these days open so easily
Like the Raven said, Nevermore
Jax slinks to the bowl
swipes a paw across the brink
litter in his drink

Java to the sink
jumps up to drink faucet drops
before they ker-plink

M J stops to think
before deigns to take a drink
lynx philoso-fur
just for fun

Copyright 2010 JB Marshall
Silver Lining Jun 2014
Alcoholism took my father away from me.
I watched him destroy his life from the age of five.
When Austin left us- I watched his life shatter completely.
I started to plink away on the piano.
Then he started to pick up the pieces.
He got his life together, remarried, and is trying to repay a lost childhood.
So I continue to play.

Now, I'm watching both my sister's life come to crumbles at the lips of a bottle.
So I play louder.
One has gone to rehab for drugs and alcohol.
She is getting better- back on her feet.
The other has moved out and cut off communication with our Father.
So I keep playing.
I'll write a sonng or two for you-
and I'll wait for you to come home.

All I've ever known alcohol to do- is destroy.
And people wonder why the smell nauseates me..
betterdays Nov 2014
there is a leak
                    in the roof
            of our house
                 no doubt
                   caused by,
   the winds of the past week.

           now
                  the rains
       are coming in.....
                      one drippity
                 drop
                       at
                          time

we put a bucket under it, at
                    first,
            splosh, splosh
                    but
now have replaced it with a
              glass bowl
                  plink
              plink,plink
                plinkety
                  plink

  tommorow my husband
    will climb up and fix
                the roof

until then, we will listen to
                  the rain's
                      song
brooke Aug 2013
Before I forget:
the pictures up
the stairs in your
old house and
a littler you in
a baseball jersey
"I was never good
at sports"
Me neither
did I really walk
that short little hallway
that many times

oh,there you are
downstairs on the
piano

plink plink
plink
(c) Brooke Otto
brooke Apr 2013
There's an old
photo I have
of you from
your old house
nothing but
your shadow
as you played
the piano

plink
plink

plink
(c) Brooke Otto
brian carlin Dec 2009
The decaying mansions of English language
Rot and recede
into teenage grasses
with each unspoken year

The hired help have left their hair unmown and surrendered their uniform dress
Content with the neglect of nature
taking its timely course

When the architects and master masons of linguistics
Survey their forgotten plans in the heaven of English literature
They are not dismayed
but patiently sit and sit

The pristine edifices of the classics
Once grand and clad in deferential brick
Stand scaffolded and unread
The doors unlocked, ajar and hopelessly inviting
Into the library of the English canon
The dusty cloak on the carpets of grammar
Sheets thrown over the disused armchairs of archaic words
Echoing the plink of the out-of-tune pianoforte of the perfectly crafted short story
Bathrooms of formal poetry
With the rusty plumbing of metre and rhyme

Whereas the temporary outhouses,
hastily arranged huts of slang and idiom
are adorned by the living grasses of new forms,
creepers  of half remembered dreams
mulching leaves of half formed thoughts
forests of half forgotten loves
writhing in living incompleteness
Which will in turn harden and fossilize

And we can then rue the passing of our once organic lingo
Invocation Dec 2014
thoughts dripping -plink, plink-
coagulating into a suffiently-sized puddle
some
transparent and luminescent as diamonds
refracting light into white-hot shards
piercing and radiant
others
black ink dank and dark
as unappealing as a rusty pillow
caustic like hydrochloric acid

the tinctures wrestle and combine
motor oil in water, rainbow patterns at night
suddenly a painful thump,
as I've hit my forehead on my dusty keyboard again.
with this, a parting word -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTJ7AzBIJoI
THIS VIDEO IS MY SWEETEST REMINDER
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
She sat by the creek underneath the bridge, flicking nearby pebbles and watching them roll into the water. It wasn't so quiet for her with the crickets and the water flowing, but between them both there was world of silence. And that’s what took her breath away- did he really ask her to be here? Right now, at this time, at this exact moment? She could only contemplate what his reason was, but she had hope it was for all the reasons she wanted.
He stood shy of the nearest light post, hidden in darkness save the faint outline of his profile. He wasn't so surprised at being there, but he was surprised that she was there. He could already feel the tenseness surrounding her, enveloping her like quicksand, and he didn't know whether to save her from it or just let her sink alone. He wasn't even sure why she was here, not to mention why he came at all on such short notice. Such an important matter that couldn't be discussed over the phone… right, as if that was really so believable.
Plink
Another pebble scampered down the uneven ***** and fell to its watery doom in the water. It must've been the seventh or so pebble send to rock hell- he should know, he’d had been counting in silence… well, silently. Tired of the quiet (and standing), he sighed deeply as he summed up his resolve to approach her. Almost without a word, he could feel her concentrated sight on him, watching every step that he made until he came into view. Sitting down next to her, he picked up a pebble and rolled it between his fingers, shortly tossing it in the water. A successful end to the peace, he thought to himself.
Plink
They came out here at the request of both of their friends… a clever ruse to get them to see each other without letting they know the reason behind it. Ah, those clever friends, waiting to hear the juicy details of exactly what happened at the bridge this night. Well, it wouldn't be much if this was how it was going to be. Either way, those friends would be meeting their early demise as soon as these two could escape the gravitational pull of embarrassment they had locked their orbit around.
They sat, fidgeting about for a few minutes, tossing more pebbles into the creek. No eye contact, just enough movement to grab a pebble and flick a finger forward. Minutes would have felt like an hour to any spectator, boring them to sleep… until an accidental movement from both parties.
Quick reflexes and **** reactions initiated themselves involuntarily. This wasn't an accidental meeting anymore- it was a strategic battle between two parties ready for an all-out lust war. The intense energy of the stares between them was near atomically ******- the passionate force behind it plowing itself into the massive platform of icy silence they fought upon.
He steadied his gaze on her, eyes fixated on her cheeks flushing red in the low light as her eyes met with his. She wasn't in control anymore; her eyes darted from his eyes to his lips and back again, heat rising from her chest like magma under pressure. He felt his nervousness fade into something else… something more carnal and more focused on her touch and scent. Almost as if directed by primal instincts, his eyes turned to her lips… plump, pink, and glowing- as if coated with kerosene and lit on fire.
It was the jump off of the cliff, the trains on a collision course, the launch of the torpedoes, the moment the President of Hearts had smashed the glass cover that encased the launch button for the **** Day missile and the coordinates were set for that very bridge out of all the bridges in the world.
And within that moment of hesitation, it was all over. His hand slipped on some loose gravel and he ended up falling forward, head-butting her on the forehead. The two reeled back in pain for a few minutes, until they started to giggle to themselves. And that giggle grew into a loud chuckle and evolved into a ferocious uproar between them. As they calmed down and wiped away the tears of laughter, a flashlight was suddenly shown on them.
“Hey, what are you two doing down there? Get out from there now,” the police officer said with a stern voice.
They followed his command and came up to meet the officer, apologizing profusely as if they just went full-on Bonnie & Clyde. The officer just smiled and gestured for them to calm down.
“You’re not in any trouble; it’s just dangerous to be out here so late. So just take your girlfriend home and make sure her parents aren't worried, alright?”
“…. b-but she’s-… yes, sir,” he said, stopping himself from continuing. “I’ll take my girlfriend home right now.
She blushed even more as she felt the warm grip of his hand pulling her softly forward and squeezed back gently. She followed him as he walked, even though their homes were in the other direction.
Alan Abstract Sep 2020
Sipping twisted teas underneath twisted trees.
Sap dripping off maples turning into crystal, cicadas vibrating something blissful
I could feel myself walking on violin strings.
Plink plink plink
Words flowing out as soon as I catch a think
A new golden horizon
Changing your world at the brink of a double blink
Birds singing on a Carnegie, that's where I wanna be.
birch sap
Shadow Paradox Jun 2015
The water inside those indigo pools, are frozen glitter
Silver clouds filled with metallic raindrops

The
plink,
plink tunes
From metal rain freezes into a song

Stuck between sky and earth
Like alloy stars turning into diamonds
Shall we freeze like stone statues fused with sparkling crystals

Or

be liquid sunshine bursting with a golden edge
Melting the beauty with warmness
Which heals and brightens a crooked smile

That holds droplets of laughter
Medicine for heart and soul
Olivia Kent Oct 2014
Something along the lines of mythical scary beast.
Standing on the cables.
Watching where he's stood.
Needs no execution.
Wants no plink, plink, fizz.
Watches you also.
When he's settled and safe.
His head flicks from side to side, guided by his eyes.
Just a clever scavenger.
Hunting the detritus left in a fast food bag.
No interest in how old it is,  
A stench of rotten chicken wrapped around discarded bones.
It's said the birds can not smell, but this fellow, he's truly tempted.
From his perch he invaded the packet.
Stole the contents my my what a racket.
The store fella aware of the bird, flicking and scratching at the paper packet.
Flapped his arms, shooing the bird.
Picked up the bag.
In more of a flap than the now perching bird.
Circle of co-dependence continued.
The raven, the ******* and the fast food store man.
(C) Livvi
Ben May 2016
There was a particularly nasty looking garden spider
Crawling up the cracked molding of my window
Not that he looked particularly nasty compared to other spiders
In fact, up close, spiders are one of the wisest looking creatures that exist

But I don't have eight eyes like the garden spider
So I can't see that without the help of a camera lens
So to me, he just looked
Nasty

Buzzing from behind my curtain
A particularly nasty looking yellow jacket
Landed next to the spider
I didn't need a camera lens
Close up or far away
Some things are just
Evil

The spider must have sensed this too
With a leap
He grappled the wasp
And they tumbled
Buzzing
To my uneven hardwood floor
Landing with a small
Distinct plink

And I stood over them
While they tussled

As I have stood over a million things

Watching with glazed indifference
While creatures purer in their existence than I
Fought for their lives

I could see that the spider was doing poorly
The yellow jacket was giving it to him in the abdomen
Jamming his stinger in and pulling it out and jamming it in again
Until the spider started leaking white and green
And started fighting less and less

The yellow jacket
Smugly victorious
Save one crippled wing
Started to putter away
But I brought a rolled up newspaper down on the both of them
Like a pillar falling from the front of some great Roman temple
When the Gauls sacked it

Retracting the paper
They had both been reduced to wet smudges
I felt bad for killing the spider
I wish I could have trapped him in cup with a card over the top
And placed him outside on a leaf in the garden
So he could rule where he was meant to

But I considered it an act of mercy
I couldn't stand to see a noble being end like that
And you should always ***** out evil
If you have an opening

I sat back on my bed
Considering it a wash
A bit of beauty for a bit of order
As it has always been
r0b0t Jun 2014
we're almost home
I can taste it
the fumes and the fire and the rags soaked with gasoline
and I can hear the streetlight hum
burning the ghost of a last cigarette
and I can hear the coffee
plink
plop
in your coffeepot
a far-off howl
and a mother lost her son
with the needle
and thread
and the system is gone
and I solve my problems like a monster would
with matches
but these scissors
feel heavy
and I dissected my brain
found what left of my sanity
and I ate it with a scowl
burning bright into the day
and the philosophies of ages past
wise men
and a single lunatic
breaking me
softly crashing animals into my head
and I bit at the fist
and frothed at the mouth
the other day
and it croaked at me
scorching my brain
eating at my health
I fear I am losing my mind, lover
I cannot remember the last time I cried
or that I ate
all I feel is a mechanical
clickclack
like I am clockwork
and I don't know how to feed
this need
inside me
I hurt my head today
a soft noise
No matter
I smell oranges
as I lose myself
in my work
and I stitch up the seams
the acrid taste of a cigarette on my teeth
a layer of smoke and wind
and this mask smells like I imagine she would
and that ends it
and I couldn't move on
paralyzed with a shrug
and my mouth tastes of kerosene
my mouth tastes of kerosene
my mouth tastes of kerosene
the blood in my house
surrounding the bricks in my mouth
breaking through the store
and I ache
and my stomach is sick
and my mouth
oh, god
what have I done
I ate her sanity
and I broke his back
with the symbol
of red
my only regret
you must think I'm mad
but no!
I am better than that
a ghost
long gone
leaving
only kerosene
in my wake
rock the back
with the squeal of tires
I must escape
Thunk!
of a heart dying beneath my floorboards
drying slowly
like a bubbly sea
amid a soft drink
there is a cafe down the street
and I think may
order some coffee
two scoops of sugar
two tablespoons of milk
why is my coffee red
why is my coffee red
why is my coffee red?
why is my coffee red
what i have done
cannot be forgiven, lover
wash it off in the sink
my god
they see me
they see me
****
they see me
I regret
nothing
everything
I am nothing
I had a friend over today
to show how normal I am
that i am okay
and I am alive
and we spoke
we drank wine, we ate a fine meal
It was a party
and soon i came to realize
they knew!
He knew! He saw the blood
and I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed my hand
and why are they still ******
and he found out
he mocked me
sat there in a chair
and pretended it was all normal
until I ached
and burned
and soon
oh, god
what have I done now
his sanity
it's gone
i ate it
He is sad now
I see him
and he is sad
I taste his tears
they taste of salt and crackers
and I knelt
and I sat down
and finished my meal
would a lunatic do that? Would he finish his dinner with his guest?
No, lover.
No, lover.
The voices returned today.
They told me I was worthless
perhaps they are right
and perhaps
there is a bridge not far from here.
Could the water wash away the blood?
yes.
Yes, lover,
it could.
This is early work. Can't judge me for such early work, now can you?
Zoe Mei May 2021
elusive
a school of silver fish in the net
all slick small enough to slip
drip through the cracks
gaps plink wriggle back
into the sea
where even the minnows swim free
so I stay on the waters and cast the nets again
and wait to haul in my next catch.
He peels an azure rind
sure to find click-clack gears clocking
tin-men's timid-toed steps

But these clouds conceal gut-
taut strings rain drops plink, teasing out
hours of palsy-foot jigs
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Mike Finney Jan 2012
I watch each delicate thread

Pull away

(Frail twine,
The string of life,
Warn from wash and
Off white)

The plink of one more

Surrender as

One by one

Their little hands

Let go under the pressure

(Too taxing;
Cracked glass
Invasive fissures
Wiggling their way
Downward until
Wrath forces its way
To the surface)

And prepare to lose

(Control
Tumbling upward in a
Bittersweet cone of
Fermented
Nineteenseventyeight
Exquisite wine
Ready to shoot
Straight to the brain
Unraveling the ties,
Letting the pieces fall)

Myself in fragments

Scattered upon the floor

Of who I really am

(or who I never knew
But learned to grow
Apart from.
Caged in my fear
Savagely
Awaiting freedom
So prohibited
;Slavery)

Until I shed my shell

(the painted
Actionfiguretell
Of the mold
I came from.
An assembly line model
Struck in posses
Clothed in garments of
Rejected leisure)

And feel my truenity

(the gentle nature
Peel out
And bloom
Like the dark rose
I’ve seen time and time again
Amidst a lot of pebbles
Waiting so eagerly
To be picked by
The one naïve
Green soul
To let the eye fall
In color
And lick the blood of christ
So tainted
With illusion)

***** the finger

Let the blood run out

Bleed me out

( ailments birthed
of a gentle betrayal
disease my being.
embalmed of any
logic for sense
the salvation of patience is
left by the wayside;
a token for those who
stop to think )

My sanity ridded

Corpse

A poor excuse

For my former self

(falling)
Marissa Wargo Jan 2011
Is in the shower.
Curtained off, it's the one room that actually
Washes away the pains from your face.
Salty, bitter drops of time spent unwisely,
Fall down to the drain at your feet.
Disappear.

Cut off from everyone else
Surrounded by those who would listen,
Protect you from being heard.
They softly plink against the glass and your body just the same.
There is no judgment here. No.
Not in this room.

And that's what comforts you the most.
That this imaginary room is the one place you can let it all out.
Spill your darkest secrets to the linoleum
Knowing it will only echo your thoughts.

Not loud enough for anyone to hear
Over the rushing water.
No. You're safe there.
And that's why.

The reason you are able to come out of it all
Looking as if nothing had ever happened.
Knowing that,
Once you step out of the warmth and into the cold air
Into the bigger room,

No one will ever know
That you secretly cry.
Daniel Magner Jan 2020
Fine sand grains coat my toes
as pure, crystal waves break,
playful, ancient, against the shore.

The swaying plink of reggae guitar
bounces over the sand,
lulling a laze in my core
then emanates out across the beach,
past the break,
and out to sea.
Daniel Magner 2020
Sleepless words in droves to fly,
As weeks or months or years go by,
I think, and over think,
As all my dripping thoughts go, "plink",
Into the deepest memory vaults,
For more over thinking in my endless waltz,
Of two steps forward and four steps back,
I'm surely not regressing. though its progress that I lack,
Cause though years and months and weeks have gone by,
For some of my actions I still wonder why
Kiarra Dean Jun 2015
in, out
in, out
keep telling yourself its okay
and things will turn out fine
you cant change this one, dear
i know you want to
but you cant do a thing, sweetie
just take a breath and hold it
long after your face turns blue
if you hold it long enough it might do
if you wake again in a room draped in white
tubes sprouting out your veins
its quite alright, my love
for you just need to hold it longer
for as time passes just pretend
pretend like you can hold it together
for someone will believe
and let you be
but this time
when that comes
take things nice and slow
in
out
feel the wind breeze against your face
high in the sky
almost touching the stars
as you can hear honks from cars
the salty smell hitting your nose
as you just let it go
dropping, dropping
down you go
until
finally
you hear the whistling of wind in your ears
your hair flowing like the water below
and suddenly
plink
just like a raindrop
you fall from the sky
but instead of stopping, you fall further
this time
not gravity.
your greif and misery
dragging you down
yet the farther you go
it doesnt feel heavy
you feel light, floating even
until
you pop up
looking around, you find yourself in a river
a river of lost souls
finally,
finally.
you have reached
your final destination.
david badgerow Aug 2015
floating backward
on my back down a muddy river
at a cloud's pace banked by willows & sweet clover
with long branches of oaks stretching across to meet
hot sunshine burning spots on my face forearms & stomach
an invisible hand forcing my eyes to stay closed
& projecting dancing pinwheels of
curled peacock fire on my thin eyelids
i can hear the echo voices of everyone on
shore whirling in the soft wet part of my brain
so awfully warbled by the water in my ears as
i lay there with top water debris spurting playfully
from my lips with a pinched smile
carved between my cheeks
thinking what a shame it'd be to drown
no longer caressed by willow branches trailing
across the surface

to sink down
under a blue sky during a cloud race
into a quiet place where words no longer mean anything
& all i can hear anyway is the profound hiss
of a dying airbubble slipping away from my nose
open my eyes to look i can see it escape
& explode ascending into sunlight
refracting just eight feet away
how wonderful it is to drift down into
the soft silk blanket of dark water
with all the pain & piano music in the world
trapped in my pounding heart
as my friends dive bomb to save me
the drumroll kicks in with the dramamine
& sweet pear wine i had in a pack lunch
to keep away the eager panic hunger
it's accompanied by the soft indie
plink & pluck of violin strings &
someone in suspenders blowing a harmonica
as the nothingness struggles to enfold me
crawling over the shiny pores of my face
while my friends peel back
at it in layers
by re-breathing
their whiskey into my lungs
beating my chest
with their closed fists
& blowing my nose into a t-shirt in the sand
Green Eyed Blues Aug 2017
A hello from my Estranged Acidic Lover
Mixed with the scent of Lysol Wipes
I was using to scrub the Oven Door
Left me with a Metalic Taste
That raised my Iron Levels
I grew Irritable and Irrational
The beads of my sweat turned Silver
Plink plink fell to The Ground
With a heavy Speed
So I grabbed my Broom and Dustpan
Swept up the teared Weight
Covering the Floor
Before I could Slip
And threw them in the Trash
Apachi Ram Fatal Jun 2017
the night we stay with Satan\
shore cycles of Karma will swing\
true plink betwix auditorium plunk\
Kin deep wreaking frail grim reap\
Keeping the Peace maker horn\
charmer reborn slumber Sparrow\
swarm base oiling gladness churn\
long face wide zygomorphic burial\
laced golden silence relish relics daze\
tyrance maze efface miraculous Mayans\
fingere lunge literal transliterating Dunya\
          distill animation by God triangulate\
  Panagia onomatopoeia layman infiltratIon\
red writen circuit burnt innocence clipped\
insulant urn of the surgat son\
opening null locking sun in all dials\
primeval mercifulness\
primordial noteworthiness\
may be relieving points for taking\
and giving a flying shackle **** back\
one down pass it around another lie\

shoved down the throat again\
found in the bottomless pit awake it\
() thing worse than being lost when\
it's your Necessities that are looking\
Ain't that the truth although tainted\
Eluding absentmindedly words\
flow retroactively channeling\
purposeful jurisdiction thinking\
actuality is thee meant to be what\

consequently conceptualized where\
attitudes collect pealing aptitude\
manifests inception dictated in\
comforts own skin pretentious\
dictators impose upon Carthage Pillars\
irritatedly prioritizing Pagan fillers\
reflect surround sinners encroach\

exploring Asia Minor capacity inspect delve interest\
coach self linguist design intellect major retrospect\
outspand intrinsically extort distortion awaken\
infernal declarations transmogrify\
straight lines entwine utterance\
embrace praise Raise feathers halo\
  Altitude of the Almighty deity maker\
genuflect bare Manitou provocate heir bait\

albeit Iron Maiden answers prayers fate\
giveth and be not deceived receive\
A divinity Key degree Aleph hook creek\
handling sobbing grief debrief steam decree\
kneeling bleeding evaporate disguised healing\
trees spree free be guarded prophetic maven\
emancipate  to the seventh greet Phoenician Valhalla Heavens\
We haven't left the dark ages
here is hope wishing we will
M Clement Aug 2015
The shells and mortar plink and blast around him.
Razor wire stretches as far as the eye can see.
Pitfalls, muddied dirt, and God only knows what else
is all within the path that is entrenched before him.

He took up his rifle a long time ago;
pledging to do what he had to,
pledging to defend what he ought.

He took many laborious steps alone.
He crawled beneath the wires.
He dodged the mortar shots,
though the debris was a much harder hazard to avoid.
He even fell into some pitfalls,
but managed to pull himself out of that muddied dirt.

He felt alone on the battlefield.
And from where he was positioned,
bullets rained down upon him.
He sought safety behind a wall of the very same
muddied dirt that had been his hazard.

And just when he felt he could go no further,
a hand reached in front of him, offering to pull him to
a safer place.
It was a hand that all at once seemed familiar and foreign,
known and unknown.

And the man to whom the hand belonged simply smiled at the soldier,
and said, "We're moving on."
So, I'm trying to be a little more thoughtful when it comes to writing, and this is the first time I've written in a while.

The inspiration comes from the idea of life being a battlefield, but God being with you there through it all especially when you feel hopeless.

I'm open to edits... I'd like to make this better. Just let me know, I suppose.
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
Do I
Will I
Bill said I do
Bill I?
Don't Bill me
I-O-U nothing
Do you want
this in singing

I'm going to wash that
  man right out_?
Do you want this?
You're a shade too  hurtful
My hair is weeping
And send him on
his way snoring
Just so

Oh! No
Marathon run
****** sun
I ******* up
My twin sister
do you know
what you
have done
((The Huntress))
homewrecker
My coffee temper boiling
Black and Decker
broke relationship
Click plunk plink
My computer froze
Time pretty pink pill

There is Bill
Photographer had
the right
Flash
Longstem blush
pink rose

Went inside her
1000 dollar
Designer trash
Exactly when he came
He so wanted to see her
But _do I really want this?
The questions her, rabbit fur
To sir with love Lucy
So Clutsy the board
meeting

Another ***** but busy
City skyscrapers life
I had a feeling that
something
wasn't right he fell
off his chair
Rose of a dozen
He couldn't believe
What he saw out
the door
It wasn't something
Ordinary

The Scream extraordinary
All blood related
Ben and Jerry Garcia
Icecream Cruella
The falling out
Young updated
and the restless
Those countless hours
You hated
Not counting money
greens
She was the
salad spinner
Everybody you
speak to went back
to school having a ball
Mr. Babe Ruth

Do you want this
Burnt orange-red/greens
leaves B-M-W
Be My World -cars
Mob wife of scars
The designer devil from
Prada bags
Eyes tea 4-2 bags ha
You won't deny it
Only one feeling it
wasn't right
So hooked ion a feeling I saw you
With her
Do you want her
wig
every night dig

The traveling man
Cancun vacation
Got ((Panic Disco))
Your Mom youth bottle  
number tips she wins
Lotto____

I became a
slingshot_.>>>
No regrets terrible two
tippers and dribblers
Your country lemonade
In your sun hat
So what he kissed her
Its the Easter parade
Do you want this
Always this and that
I will always remember
before**
Do you really want
to see this?
Really got into
a mess
In my hot number
My husband saw his number
in the back of my dress
Because you didn't feel right
ahh
_ through her kiss
once you
kissed me
The world knew
everything
about me

I am happy that
I don't miss
anything
to resist
There is a whole
list out there
If anyone seems to care
There is something for
everyone to be loved
Not to be shared
Do I Do I  what? Or really do I do what I am told we are getting older don't lose your sparks do you really want this heavenly bliss. Well not the wishing well nothing is perfect am I or she or he well let's see where we really want to  be
preservationman Feb 2015
He was a sea captain who ran a very tight ship
The ship’s name was “Evil Drift”
Captain Hammersaw treated his crew as if they were slaves
Punishment would be harsh if they didn’t behave
Once during a fierce storm, the waves would often overpower the ship and hit the deck, and cause it too dip
When one of his crew made a mistake in following the captain’s orders, Captain Hammersaw would throw a crewmember in the sea to the sharks
Captain Hammersaw would attempt to maneuver the ship and avoid the rocks
He was a shrewd Captain with determined powers
Captain Hammersaw could make one walk the plink with no time to think
Also the same that would feed anyone too the fishes of Davey jones Locker
But most importantly, Captain Hammersaw was a pirate that goes after treasure he wants and gets
But in Captain Hammersaw’s mind, there are no regrets
With the show of the sword, Captain Hammersaw is always determined in not to share
He is a captain you need to proceed in caution in beware
A man of the sea, an image figure who all can see
Into the waves of a ship’s unknown, and the fog that hide with the tails of another tide.
Mrs Timetable Mar 2020
Turn the music sheet
Bring the new rain
Elegant drops of scale
Chromatic raps on terrain

New shoes practicing tap
Ears are drumming away
Thunder percussion cloud claps
Singing loud and clear drink

It’s almost done
Only sound
wound
down
now
plink ...plink... plink
Jill Oct 28
The weekend sprinted past without acknowledgement. More time travel than sleep. Feels like I never left this desk. Did I go outside? Sunlight is a forgotten fancy. Everything buzzes in artificial, mercury-vapour gas-discharge, office white.

Strong coffee, mouth-only smile, and emergency chocolate at-the-ready.

Digital calendar fairy sweeps her wand - plink.
Upcoming meeting onset.
Wince.
Nearly go-time.
Deep breath.
I need help.
Close my eyes and consider my options.

In silent prayer, I call on my battle-allies. My conflict squad for the tiny, inconsequential campaigns that are laid out before me, scheduled neatly in 30-minute increments.

Sarcastic skirmishes with witless weapons. Budgetary disbursement battlegrounds, each heralded by a twinkly bright plink. Officious double agents and grinning traitors. Good sense and basic decency defeated ad nauseam.

Inwardly, I flick through my mental deck of cards. Mythic personality avatars. Figurative and emblematic. Mostly trusted, often helpful allies and collaborators. My squad. Grown over years. Battle-honed when the stakes were substantially higher.

Nine of Swords, Nymph Aegina
Scared and small. Of water and steel
Daughter of rivers
Mistrust, despair
Reduce, retreat, conceal

Queen of Swords, Pallas Athena
Warriors and winter. Shrewd and tough
Strength and judgement
Challenge, compel
Defeat, critique, rebuff

King of Cups, Charles the Great
Gifted and keen. Springtime and fire
Patron of culture
Consider, rethink
Exhort, create, inspire

Five of Wands, keening Achos
Dust and torment. Deep distress
Bringer of weeping
Commend, lament
Regret, bewail, profess

Queen of Wands, Lady of Lorien
Fearless and brave. Of summer and tree  
Wielder of Light
Perform, protect
Assert, direct, decree

I select our Lady, knowing that Aegina and Achos may vie for a cameo.
Channelling my Queen of Wands,
I arrange my face
and await the knock at the door.
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (disbursement) date 28th October 2024. A disbursement is a payout of money from a fund that has been created for a special purpose. Disbursement can also refer to the money that is paid out.
Chris Saitta Aug 2019
In the park, soft-study of sands and swings,
Where the birds while away the unabridged air
Like rains on green, copper roofs ~ their wings.
So I have touched my rainy fingers on the fountain’s surface,
And tum-tumed at the dumpy belly of a dog,
So I have felt the vendor’s balloons like cantaloupes for freshness,
So I have a pocket-change of smiles for all.
At the fountain’s edge,
Like green-molded quaystones feather-singed
By the touchstrokes of the arcing wings of the sea,
Or like a saucer of warm milk
For the alley-cats to drink the milkiness of sun
And then with their paws,
Plink at overturning the day into porcelain shadows.

— The End —