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AJ Jan 2014
when i was just a little girl
mama said, "you're the prettiest girl in the world"
and at four years old, sitting with a mirror
i batted my big green eyes, and simply believed her
for this was just something that i'd always been told
it was a fact of the world that i was beautiful

six years old, with long, blonde curls
and mama said, "you're the prettiest girl in the world"
i remembered the phrase, but doubted her words
i had no front teeth, and a voice too soft to be heard
but it must've been true, 'cause mama's don't lie
but how could it be that the prettiest girl would be so shy?

eight years old, with a baseball cap on my head
"you're the prettiest girl in the world," mama said
i looked down at my soccer jersey and cleats
"if i'm so pretty how come i have such big feet?"
but mama didn't miss a beat, she was so smart
she said, "you're prettiness shines through your great big heart"

ten years old, with a notebook and a pencil full of lead
"you're the prettiest girl in the world," mama said
i barely heard the words, and decided i was fat
pretty girls like shopping, not books and baseball bats
and the pretty girls don't need to constantly be reading
because when you see a pretty boy, a pretty girl is leading

twelve years old, and wishing i was dead
"you're the prettiest girl in the world," mama said
i knew it was a lie, and i was severely ******
if i'm so pretty then what are all these ugly scars left on my wrist?
but i nodded to my mother, and told her that i knew
maybe i was dying, but i wouldn't bring mom down, too

fourteen years old, lying in my bed
"you're the prettiest girl in the world," mama said
i knew it was a lie, but i'd made my peace with that
i'd always be a little ugly, i'd always be a little fat
i didn't look like a model, but that was okay
i never would be pretty, but who cares, anyways?

now i'm fifteen, and i'm starting to be okay
"you're the prettiest girl in the world" is what mama will say
i know i'm not the prettiest, but more importantly, i'm kind
real beauty isn't in the face, real beauty's in the mind
i'm learning to accept the hand that i've been dealt
and i'm starting to heal my heart after all the pain i've felt
Raj Arumugam Oct 2010
When I was a little boy, say when I was six, my dad calls to me and he says: Come, boy – let’s sit in our courtyard; let’s sit below the stars and I’ll tell you a story. It’s been told long in our village, and passed on from wise fathers to growing sons.

Long ago, goes the story
Farmer Somu wanted
his daughter Meena to marry
the Strongest in the world
and so he set out on a journey
with his daughter
to seek the World’s Strongest One

And what were they going to do, little boy? says my father to me. They are going to look for the Strongest One, I say; and my father says: Ah, you clever son of a clever man.

And when they walked
past the rice fields
they saw farmers
wiping their brows
and they said:
‘My, how strong the sun shines!’

‘Aha,’ said Somu, ‘I think
I’ve found the Strongest One.
Come, Meena,’ he said,
‘let’s talk to the Sun.’

And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think Somu asked the Sun?
And I say to my father: Oh Sun, Will you marry my daughter? And my father says, excitedly: Exactly! Exactly! Oh , you brilliant son of a brilliant man.

‘Oh Sun,
will you marry
my daughter
for she is the Prettiest
and you are the Strongest?’

‘But,’ said the Sun,
‘the cloud is stronger than I
for have you not noticed
how often the cloud
blocks me out
and I can’t do a thing
until he decides to move?’

And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think Somu replied to the Sun?
Oh, you weakling Sun – I’m not even talking to you! comes my quick reply. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you clever son of a clever man!

‘Weakling Sun
stand out of my way
and Oh you most powerful cloud –
will you marry my daughter
for she is Prettiest
and you the Strongest?’

And the Cloud replied:
‘But ah, I am not the Strongest
for the wind just blows me away!’

And what do you think, my clever boy, what do you think Somu did next? And I answer my dad: Well, dad - Farmer Somu drags his daughter Meena to the Wind. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you brilliant son of a brilliant man!

‘O Wind
you should marry
Meena who is Prettiest
in the world
as you are the Strongest.’

But the Wind replied:
‘Ah, you don’t know how Strong
the mountain is
for he blocks my way
and he breaks me down.’

And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think was Somu’s reply to the Wind?
Oh, you useless Wind – I’m ashamed I even considered you! I reply. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you clever son of a clever man!

‘Oh, you useless Wind
– I’m ashamed
I even considered you!’
said Farmer Somu
and he dragged his daughter along
to meet the mountain
and he said to the mountain:
‘Most Honored Mountain
I have heard of your strength
and so I have brought you Meena
who is the Prettiest.’

But the Mounatin replied:
‘Oh Sir, I am not deserving
of such a rare beauty
for the rat gnaws holes in my sides
and so is Stronger than I.’

And what do you think, dear son, says my father to me – what do you think Somu does next? And I reply quite impatiently: Somu takes his daughter to the rat? Exactly! Exactly! shouts my dad. Exactly, you brainy son of a brainy man!

And the Rat told Somu:
‘Alas, Sir
though your daughter
is most desirable
I cannot marry her
for the hyena is
far stronger than me
for he has eaten many of my family!’

And so they walk to the hyena, says my father to me. And what do you think Somu tells the hyena? And I reply: Oh hyena – marry my daughter for she is Prettiest and you are Strongest! And my father says: Oh you are right, boy! You are right – Oh you brilliant son of a brilliant man!

‘Sir Hyena
Most Revered Sir Hyena
do marry Meena
for she is Prettiest
and you the Strongest!’

And Sir hyena replied:
‘Ok. I ask for no dowry
just leave her with me
with no ceremony.’

And what do you think , asks my father, Somu did? And I reply: He left Meena with the hyena. And my father shouts excitedly: Oh, how right you are! How right you are! You clever child of a clever man.

And no sooner had Somu left
the hyena took Meena
to his cave
and he ate her all
skin and bone…
Ah what a tragic end;
what a horrid end…

And dear son, says my father to me, what is the moral of this story? Many, I say. But two are: Use your wits and stay alive. Never allow yourself to be dragged around. And my father jumps up and he is excited: Oh how right! How right! You brilliant son of a brilliant father!
And he turns to my mother who has joined us at the courtyard and he says:
See how clever our son is – he knows all the answers! Such a brilliant son of a brilliant father!

And my mother’s retort is swift: It’s not that he’s brilliant or you either. You’ve told him this story a hundred times, you silly man! And it’s always the same words! And I would have kicked my father if I were Meena!
a folk-tale I heard when I was a child
Flower's are the prettiest things that God made and forgot to put a soul into them
For they would not only speak the language of love but would also reciprocate !
Flower's are the prettiest things that God made and forgot to put a soul into them
For they would not only spread delightful redolence but preach the same with grace !
Flower's are the prettiest things that God made and forgot to put a soul in them
For they would not only show the path to share but also show how to care !
Flower's are the prettiest things that God made and forgot to put a soul in them ,
For they would not only spread a smile but would suggest to do so all the while !
Flower's are the prettiest things that God made and forgot to put a soul in them
For they would not only bequeath beauty to the core but would spread joy and simplicity before !
Flower's are the prettiest things that God made and forgot to put a soul in them , For they would instantaneously lift your mood and teach you never to brood !

© Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Love the vivid colours # aroma #fragrance of flowers#they instantly lift your mood #love nature#repetation #metaphor..15.04.2019
The girl is prettiest when she is unaware that someone is looking
Prettiest when her lips bend a curve to reveal a smile
or a slight glimpse of her ivories that could indicate a near laugh

The girl is prettiest when she wears her pink cardigan while she goes off going to work, the way she walks, the way she moves as she looks back and smiles at me as I call her name.

The girl is prettiest when her lashes rest so softly atop her cheeks

As she quietly and assuringly reads a message amidst a warm afternoon

In a garden of people where her solitary spot is all that exists

The girl is prettiest when she tries to apply make-up during a car ride.
Prettiest when I crack a joke and she giggles with that sweet smile which inspires me to be a better man.

When she frowns she's still the prettiest woman I have ever met, but it saddens me to know that she isn't smiling yet.

The thing that I fear the most is when the pretty girl finds another man that makes her smile to be the prettiest of all.

Though it may be a bittersweet ending, I am still glad I got to witness the prettiest girl I have ever seen happy, even if she's with another man.
Trevon Haywood Apr 2017
I'm the prettiest man of all time around here in Western Massachusetts.
And no one can stop me from happening.
It's almost summertime and we need to act like it as only one's own. I'm about to be 25 years old within the next 2 months.
And at anytime, you need to respect yourself and others like this is our home.
I'm about to get married to Hayleigh Reeder because she's the prettiest girl of all time just like me.
And when the storm hits, we will be together forever.
By the year 2018, i'm going to be the Prettiest Man Of All Time to be at the new casino in Downtown Springfield when it opens in September.
And as we continue to control ourselves for the summer, we shall become the prettiest people of all time like love, passion and even knowledge.
And together we are the greatest young and the restless of Western Massachusetts and Northern Connecticut.
Now that's life and coverage we can count on as always.

Anonymous. 4/20/2017.
AUGUST Nov 2018
Sitting on the corner while Starring
At the glances of your smile all over
Cover the room by your face unveiling
Up to this moment, I want to be near,
(you were a mile from here)

Thinking It was cloudy on my mind,
But when you are here by my side
You are making my day as bright
Showing the beauty behind,
(They have nothing to hide,
nothing to hide.)

How deep is the ocean trenches?
How far is the stars throughout the abyss?
How much warm is your embraces?
How much cold Is your lips to kiss?

l don’t much care about counting all of these,
As long as you are with me, you are my bliss

(I could tell,) heaven’s gate is not the place of happiest
And angels are not those prettiest,
Indeed, God is always be the wisest,
For sending me a fallen angel, I’ve caught the brightest, the brightest

Lately, You stole what between these lungs
You open my chest, You let it pour, my bleeding heart
I cant deny, how i feel, you are my crush
I have been stunned on Your eye lashes, (glances, perfume scents, and blushes)

How deep is the ocean trenches?
How far is the stars throughout the abyss?
How much warm is your embraces?
How much cold Is your lips to kiss?

Do I have to care about all of that anymore,
As long as you are with me, what should I have to ask for?

Emerald, jade, diamond, gold and silver,
I guess nothing is forever, unless me and you
In this world of deception, anyone can be a liar
Just remember, Nothing is to fear, I am always here.
.......I am always here.
Honestly, I did not know what is sonnet and how to make one, but I did it unconsciously. It is true that poets have a universal language in terms of making thier poems.

This was Dedicated for Margaret
Corona Harris Nov 2015
The prettiest faces hide the ugliest secrets
I know this for facts because I'm always asked to keep it
The prettiest mouths say the most terrible things
I know this for facts because my ears heard it all
The prettiest eyes seen the worst sights
I know this for facts because I've had to close them
The prettiest bodies has the most scars
I know this for facts because I've had to cover them
The prettiest minds have the darkest thoughts
I know this for facts because I've had to erase them
       ~Corona Harris~
Just because the Title says Cinderella don't think that it's a fairytale
Sarah Wallace May 2014
Lights. Dark outside. Pretty night. Light unveils the prettiest sights that the darkness covers tonight. I see it in the morning when I wake up with you. Tangled up like two sides of my shadow near the shade. And I miss you when you aren't holding me tight. You made me realize , I can't have the sky, but I can have something pretty close when I look into your eyes.
sage short Jun 2015
the way she read books
was the way i looked at her;
interested and quietly
always on the edge of my seat
watching her beautifully move
without any cares
i loved when she blasted rock music in the car
and made me sing along
and i remembered she hated her voice
but all i could do was fall in love with it everyday
and yes this is in past tense because 
i let go of the prettiest flower in the ugliest meadow
Louis Brown May 2014
You're the prettiest
Of the songs
I ever wrote
You warmed every lyric
Every note
When I look at you my pen
Pours words that never end
Oh the goodness there
Is more than words can quote
You're the prettiest
Of the songs
I ever wrote
Nagilia Melendez Apr 2015
They say "the prettiest eyes have cried the most tears"
I believed for many years
That the eyes are the doors to one's soul.
You can look into them and see their highs and lows.

Eyes may be similar,
But no one's sweet, shimmery shine is the same.
Every twinkle is unique star.
No need to hide them behind shades in shame.

Like a waterfall,
Your tears can be beautiful after all.
Like a garden of evergreens covered in blood smears,
The prettiest eyes have cried the most tears.
Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
Meet me at the place where the sunrise and sunset are joined by the prettiest clouds.

A tranquil place where times stood still for more than one eternity.

Stretch out your limbs with Lotus hands and play the spoons for me.

Breath out your life, then breath it in expanding endlessly.

The mother of creation, the atomic act, the divine self, a metaphor for hunger.

A life filled with space gaps, dust, prophecies and jars.

A universal love that's born of dreams and fallen stars!

The proprio-ceptive tools that launched the ships to voyage within ourselves.

To seek out that illusive and wilful spark within our hearts and souls.

Stretch out your limbs with Lotus hands and play the spoons for me.

In that tranquil place where times stood still for more than one eternity.

Meet me at the place where the sunrise and sunset are joined by the prettiest clouds.

Stretch out your limbs with Lotus hands and play the spoons for me.
Don G
Don G
I found a kindred spirit, perhaps there is a kindred place, somewhere nice that we could meet.
Ego Galaxy Aug 2014
I like dark eyes the same way I like dark skies

I like them to be a shade dark enough to see lightning flash against

I like them to be dark enough to be the proper canvas for a million stars

Brown eyes are boring, the prettiest boys always say

I’d rather have green or blue or hazel

But their brown eyes are that of puppy dogs and doe

Innocence and comfort

Hot chocolate on a cold Christmas night while the children

tiptoe down the stairs trying to spy on Santa Claus

Teddy bears in the arms of girls like me in their 20’s

still holding onto childish things as they sleep,

because life is rough and we need somebody, but our love isn’t free.

Brown eyes are so dead, the prettiest girls always say

But their eyes sparkle with emotion each time the light hits

They cry like trees leaking sap

like mud puddles I’d love to sink my rainboots into

colour as old and boundless as the soil of the earth

as natural as the trees bark and the rivers mouth.
Jack Turner Aug 2010
Honey, my pretty little girl,
My Heart. My World. My Soul.
For all we have been through
I can't help but be in love with you.
I am honored to know that you value me so much,
And that just by being me
Can have such an impact on you.
As tough as it will be having to be away from you
For as long as it takes up north,
I know it will do amazing things for you
And for who you are to become.
Indeed, all it will do is make us stronger
As I feel the longing pull at me
More and more with each second
You are away.
I miss ever little facet
Of your being.
Being away from you
Only makes me value you
That much more.
You are my happiness,
And no one brings it out in me
Nearly the way you do.
You are my world and
Every intricacy in it.
In short,
You are my life.
Dearest little girl,
I love you
With every fiber of
This beautiful mind
Beautiful heart
And beautiful soul I have been blessed to possess.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
E Enter In Out EIO
E-IE-I-O  the O- the outcome
Playing some Banjo giggly
Words are getting wiggly
Like everlasting Jello
The Old/ New Heaven?Hell

Meet the best
It's in our duty
Takes effort modern-times
Instagram pictures of Mcdonald
Don't bend yourself
out of shape over hot buns
Hunters bite of the hamburger
Amazing shapes of the Planet
to enter

Don't live like the pretender
Your the pilot absolutely laughing
to the end of the wing
Catching fresh air telling some dirt
Not everything is a
*Pink champagne
EIEIO Airplane he raised this pilot
Blue sky absolutely
looking too hard
People are starting to look strange
B-S Be Sweet I know what
you thought words get rearranged
What bull one boy to
have a coke with a smoke with
Is this the way it should be
Bye Bye Birdie Ann Margarita
Is this what life is about

He salutes to  my absolutely
knock out dress

Inside of his head, he's
looking mighty fine
Drinking Absolute *****
When its truly mine
Silk ties or Paisley Ties
Crazy love absolutely
Time traveler talker
Who is your caretaker
The burden to carry on
Girls want to have fun
Homemaker proud baker
Be on time yes absolutely
After I know what
happen before
One day I will find out
what this is all about
All ones or against none
Mr. Sexter in the City
The forever not to marry one

She's the absolute solitaire player
He's the homebody head ringer
Cut face band-aid
The band's and singers
Newsstands Jazz step swingers

American Bandstand
The time is hand full  such corruption
No freedom what happen for the
*Love of God Kingdom

Absolute insane asylum of maids
Absolutely I agree its hard
enough for one
E for entering I- I Phone OH!
Out of your mind
Get out I absolutely don't
need you in
the best time of my life
Chose your words wisely
Absolutely solemnly swear
Something is not
Kosher my Dear
We love to carry on
Not to carry someone over the
threshold do what you're told
Get up sleepy head you will
be late for school

Old Mcdonald EIEIO
E Exception I want that
E-Everything I Immaculate
O- Out of money
What *******
He's banging his drumsticks
You're the Oz good witch
Making more room with
your broomstick
She is absolutely the
spitting image of
her "Mom Mega babe'

So many Odd Moms
On speed racing for time
Coffee moms Business Moms
She is absolutely the prettiest
Mom I came across
Absolutely rarely do you see
Hollywood Housewife acting
like Moms
Her skirt got the heat like
A-Absolute what a cute "City Cat"
meeting the cat________??
"From Hell ringing the Liberty Bell"
A haystack don't turn your back
You absolutely got into his heat

Rekindled by the barn cat
How dogs and cats may
be disobedient
But we love them for
who they are
Even if they look
like their masters  
We are born like that
The artist absolutely
Graphically lined
Of the absolutely cool
deviant defined
She had lines of a lifetime
in her pleats
He didn't make his bed
wrinkled sheets
French bulldog has
more manners
Then his master
Hey Buster

Board signs on your body
But we all have to
make a living
So it's fading like an
Antique Queen malevolent
Too bright hurting
my eyes shining
Do you trust her or him
Expectations are getting slim
Losing time your gold trim
The double-breasted dress you
hear a
Robin bird symphony
You're the absolute epiphany
Going and tumbling back to
be single eating a triple
decker sandwich

Hey Mate?
Absolute Divine Date*

She is absolutely beyond herself
Never known a love to
be absolutely right

Were human or our beliefs fire out
Evidentially taking a flight
Make it the best fight you ever had
Writing an article we hours
of the morning smile and
tell the world
What you need to say
is as real as your heart will ever feel
We learn from the best the
spiritual journey
here's to a healthy meal
The Newsweek more moments
to remember absolutely our best times
Bird's eyeabsolutely so precisely
the eye for E-I-E-I let's catch up to O
Any mystery making history
Jane Eyre  
Life leads us on the "Empty
"Sad Doorway"
Make it a "Jumpy Glad on a Clear Day"
It's absolutely lovely to see forever
  Moreover, the rainbow don't worry

Make it heavenly birds
Absolutely our time is precious
have it your way

Absolute genius the
best cattle
Hot Moon lady from Venus
Absolutely this is not the drink of ***** but we can absolutely make this into anything you like its the absolute of all the things we need to laugh with or the tough tie to bear it don't fear anything make this time on our planet everything
Clindballe Apr 2017
You used to tell me that I was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. Yet you said my sister was prettier than me. You have always told me opposite of Her and everyone else but I still listen to Her, I still tell myself that I am not worthy of love and beautiful words. I try to be what you tell me you see by removing unwanted hair and painting my nails to feel less like Mona Lisa - a stiff painting of a mystery. How can I be the prettiest thing you have seen when you have seen so many other people and probably told them the same. I bet you that they did not have these self inflicted scars and colored stretch marks, even the little red dots that sit on my skin between all the bruises. I believed Her words of filth and hate - I still do. Her voice still lingers in the back of my mind and her words are carved in my thoughts like a tattoo. When you tell me I am the prettiest thing you have ever seen please mean it or just leave it because i don't need your lies when you cannot tell Her off. Please I know I'm not the prettiest thing you have ever seen so do not tell me beautiful lies.
Written: April 15. - 2017
Nick Moser May 2016
I am an abundance of lost stars.

And they've all gone supernova.

Now they're just splattered throughout space,
Throughout the darkness and the abyss.

And now they call me beautiful.

Because pain and chaos always paints the prettiest pictures.
Picture perfect
Bunhead17 Dec 2015
The prettiest smiles
hide the deepest secrets.
The prettiest eyes
have cried the most.
The Kindest hearts
*have felt the most pain.
Terry Collett Sep 2013
There were raised voices. Ingrid heard them. Her father's booming voice over her mother's screech. She stirred in her small bed. Pulled the blankets over her shoulder. Sheltered by the thick ex army coat of her father's on top of the blankets she snuggled down trying to shut out the sounds. It was Saturday, no school. She hated school, hated the tormenting kids, the lessons, the teacher bellowing at her. Only Benedict talked kindly to her, only he made her laugh, took her on adventures round and about, the bomb sites, the cinema, the swimming pool in Bedlam Park. The voices got louder, there was a sound of glass smashing. Silence followed, her mother's screeching began again, her father's booming voices trying to drown her out. Ingrid pulled the blankets tighter around her. She daren't go out along the passage until it was over. Even though she needed to ***, she held it in, thought of other things. Her wire framed glasses lay on the bedside cabinet her mother had bought at a junk shop. The thick lens were smeary, the wire frame slightly bent where her father's hand had clipped them when he slapped her about the head for talking out of turn. There was a small cut on her nose where the glasses had caught. A radio began to play, the voices had stopped. A door slammed. Her father had gone out. She poked her head out of the blankets. Music filtered through into her room from the radio. She got out of bed and stood on the wooden floor boards. Her clothes: dress, cardigan, underwear and socks were laid neatly on a chair where she'd folded them the night before. She opened the door of her bedroom and ventured down the passage to the toilet and shut the door and put the bolt across and sat down. The music played on. Her mother began to sing. She had weak voice, kind of like a child's. Ingrid played with her fingers. Pretended to knit, as her mother had unsuccessfully tried to show her, with imagined knitting needles. As she sat she felt the bruise on her left buttock. Her father's beating of a day or so ago. She knitted faster, fingers racing. She stopped dropped a stitch as her mother called it. She left the toilet and went to wash in the kitchen sink. She wished they had a bathroom like her cousin did. Her parent's bath was in the kitchen with a table that was let down when not in use. She washed in the cold water, her hands and face and neck. Dried on the towel behind the door. Her mother came in carrying a cup and saucer. She set it down on the draining board and looked at Ingrid. Get yourself some breakfast and then get dressed, if your father catches you in that state, he won't half have a go, her mother said. Ingrid went into the living room and got a bowl from the glass fronted cupboard and a spoon from the drawer and poured herself some cereals and added milk from a jug on the table and sat to eat. Her mother brought in a mug of tea for her and put it on the table and went off to the bedroom to make the bed. The music from the radio played on from the living room window she could see the streets below, the grass area beneath with the two bomb shelters left over from the War where she and other sat or climbed or played around. Over the street was the coal wharf where coal lorries and horse drawn wagons loaded up with sacks of coal. She ate her cereals. A train went across the railway bridge over the way;puffs of smoke rose in the air. Below boys played on the grass. One of the boys had offered her 6d to see her underwear, but she had refused. He shrugged his shoulders and said your loss and wandered off. 6d would have bought her sweets, a drink of pop, but she had her pride. She finished her breakfast and sipped her tea. Warm and sweet. She let her tongue swim in the tea. Benedict said he would buy her some chips after the morning film matinée at the cinema. Her mother said she would give her 9d for the cinema, but not to tell her father. As if she would, she mused, watching a horse drawn wagon leave the coal wharf. She drank the tea and took mug, spoon and bowl into the kitchen  and washed them up and left them on the draining board. She went to her bedroom and took off her nightdress. The mirror on the old dressing table showed a thin pale looking nine year old girl with short cut brown hair and squinting brown eyes. She only saw a blur. She put on her glasses and peered at herself. No wonder the boys laughed at her and the girls avoided her. Only Benedict was friendly to her. He said she was pretty. She couldn't see it, the prettiness. She turned. Over her thin shoulder she saw the bruises on her buttocks. Fading. Bluey greeny yellowish. She walked to get her clothes off the chair and began to dress. She wished she had a cleaner dress, she'd worn that one for nearly a week. The cardigan had holes and there were buttons missing. She did up what buttons there were and brushed her hair with the hairbrush her gran had given her. It had stiff bristles and a large wooden handle. She stood in front of the mirror and peered at herself. She put the 9d her mother had given her in her pocket. Ready or not Benedict would be there soon. He knocked his own special knock. Once her father answered and glared at Benedict and asked what he wanted. Benedict said, to see the prettiest girl in the world. Her father glared harder, Benedict simply smiled. How did he do that? How did he do that to her father? There was a tensive wait, her father glaring and Benedict looking passive. Then her father called her to the door and said, this here boy asked for the prettiest girl in the world; he must have got the wrong address. Ingrid went red and looked at Benedict. No, right address and girl, Benedict said,looking by her father's brawny arm at her. How she managed not to wet herself she didn't know. Her father just walked back indoors and left them to talk on the balcony without any more words and she never got a beating afterwards, either. Now she waited for that special knock. That rat-rat and rat-rat. She smiled at her reflection. Prettiest girl. Ugliest more like. Rat-rat and rat-rat. He was there. He'd come. She could hear his voice. She took one last look at herself in the mirror, wet fingered she dabbed at her hair. Time to go, time to get out of there. Her knight in jeans and jumper had come on a white horse to take her away; imaginary of course.
Some may term this as a short story, others may term it as a prose poem.
Ronald J Chapman Dec 2014
A pink kimono
Adorned with velvet flowers

Standing there in the Springtime mist of Japan,
Guarded by Sakura trees.
Skies are blue,
Singing a beautiful song,

Pink lips like adorable flowers on a spring day,
A most beautiful, kind and loving princess to ever
walk Japan.

Your beautiful face,
Your kindest soul,
Your adorable lips,
You smiled at me.

You have the prettiest voice,
that calms my soul.

You're the most beautiful and loving princess,
ever to walk Japan...

© 2014 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
Princess Sakura Poem Reading 1
Chan Dy Nov 2015
You have the prettiest eyes and I'm sorry I made them cry
You always tell me about the story of your childhood,
why you have crooked teeth,
but for me I saw how beautiful that smile was
and I'm sorry if I'm the reason why it fade and turn into frown.

I know you don't like your body but it doesn't matter to me
I saw how beautiful you are when you talk about your passion, your dreams and your goals
I'm sorry if you feel bad about yourself again
You have the biggest heart, it's pure and fragile

And I know it would be an understatement to say sorry for breaking it

As some people are better off as friends before turning into lovers.
We had a very happy conversation about family matters.

Mom, Dad. I’m OK.
They’ve been really honest with me
but they’re perfectly willing to die for what they’re doing.
And I want to get out of here
but the only way I’m going to
is if we do it their way.
And I just hope that you’ll do what they say
and just do it quickly.
I really am alright.
I just hope I can get back to everybody really soon.

My little girl.

Catherine and Randy gave impeccable dinner parties.

I am an Establishment person.

I am being held as a Prisoner of War
and not as anything else.
I mean I am being treated
in accordance with
international codes of war.
I’m not left alone, and I’m not just shoved off somewhere.
I mean, I am fine.

Also, since I am an example
and it’s really important
that everybody understand that
you know,
I am an example and a warning.

And so people should stop acting like I’m dead.

Mom should get out of her black dress,
that doesn’t help at all.
and just hurry.

Patty honey I want you to know
that your father is doing everything in his power.
Millions of people all over the world are praying for you
I know it’s been a long time sweetheart
but keep up your courage
and you keep praying
pretty soon god will touch their hearts
and they’ll send you home.

Mom, Dad.
I've been hearing reports about the food program.
So far it sounds like you and your advisors
have managed to turn it into a real disaster.
Anyway, it certainly didn't sound like the kind of food
our family is used to eating.

I called him a couple of weeks ago and said,
Hey, Randy, let's play tennis.
We haven't played tennis in months
and he said
Gosh. I just can't. I'm busy.
I know he's got a lot on his mind,
But, I think he's pretty obsessed with this.

Mom, Dad.
Tell the poor and oppressed people of this nation
what the corporate state is about to do.
Warn Black and poor people
that they are about to be murdered
down to the last man, woman and child.
Tell the people,
that the removal of expendable excess,
the removal of unneeded people
has already started.

I have chosen to stay and fight.
I have been given the name Tania
after a comrade who fought alongside Che in Bolivia.
It is in the spirit of Tania that I say,
'Patria o Muerte, Venceremos.'

She was one of the prettiest young women south of the Mason‐Dixon line.

Q. Okay. As a matter of fact, when you got to 1827 Golden Gate, or this apartment on
Golden Gate, you were not being held in that closet all the time, were you?
A. Yes, I was.
Q. You were?
A. Yes.
Q. Was there a previous closet in which you were held?
A. Yes.


She is a winsome beauty and her sweetness of manner has endeared her to all who know her

Whatever happened to the real men in this world? Men like Clark Gable? No one would have carried off my daughter if there had been a real man there.

She was somewhat of a revolutionary savant.
We kidnapped a freak.
I think that she was spectacular.
At that point, it was against her will to go home.

Q. And you moved in a car, I take it?
A. Yes.
Q. Were you blindfolded?
A. Yes.
Q. And whose car was it, do you know?
A. I don’t know. I was put into a garbage can that was ******* and put in the trunk of the car.
Q. And then, was the garbage can taken into the apartment on Golden Gate when you arrived?
A. Yes.
Q. Were you in it?
A. Yes.
Q. And you were placed in a closet immediately, is that correct?
A. Yes.

I. She’s an amoral person
thought that the rules did not apply to her.
She lied to nuns at school
about her mother having cancer
in order to get out of an exam
engaged in ****** activity
at an early age
and experimented with drugs
such as LSD.

II. Velcro Theory defined the aimless, lost souls
such persons, he said, who float around
in an empty moral space
and then find stuck to them
the first random ideology they bump into.

III. She is a celebrity prisoner of war
but the other thing
is that listening to her voice
is kind of hypnotizing
and not at all unpleasant
she speaks in this whisper
the well-enunciated voice
that someone called
the rich girl’s voice
The eerie voice of an heiress
and it's hard not to admire her composure
considering the ordeal she just went through.

We didn't know whether we were looking at a live girl or a robot.

Greetings to the people.
This is Tania.
Gabi crouched low with her *** to the ground.
Perfect love and perfect hate reflected in stone cold eyes.
To shoot first and make sure the pig is dead before splitting.
I died in that fire on 54th Street,
but out of the ashes I was reborn.
I know what I have to do.

Catherine was mentally and physically exhausted after the kidnapping. No wonder she developed a drinking problem.

Q. Okay. And is it true, Miss Hearst,
that you in the presence of Thomas Mathews ejected a live round from the M-I
that you had near you
and inserted that in the clip,
and put the clip back in the weapon?
A. I don't recall, it is possible.
Q. It is possible you may have.
And did you, in fact, also at that time
load a couple of live rounds
into the chamber of a revolver, a pistol?
A. I don't recall.
Q. Did you give Bill Harris a pistol
in the presence a Tomas Mathews?
A. I don't recall.
Q. You don't recall?
A. No.

I’ll think of it all tomorrow—I can stand it then.

I think this has been extremely ******* her
She's what the kids call ‘spaced out.’
Her religion holds her together.
And when you talk to her,
you see reality escapes her.
All she can say is that people are
‘persecuting’ Patty.
That's the word she uses,
We all love Patty,
and God knows she's had a terrible time,
but the whole complexity of the situation
seems to escape Catherine.

You're being told this
so you'll understand why I was kidnapped.
The S.L.A. has declared
war against the Government
I'm telling you now why this happened
so that you'll know
so that you'll have
something to use,
the knowledge
to try to get me out of here.

I’m the happiest mother in the whole world.

I hope that you'll make sure that they don't do anything else like that Oakland business.

Q. Do you recall you spoke those words, Miss Hearst?
A. Can I see the transcript?

I don't believe Patty's legal problems are that serious. After all, she's primarily a kidnap victim. She never went off and did anything of her own free will.

From the moment I was kidnapped,
they consistently attempted to
discredit the revolutionaries.
After the first communique was received,
the pigs reacted by hauling out the stress machines.
The machines indicated I was being tortured
and kept awake 24 hours a day.
I guess that all the pigs expected me
to keep my mouth shut,
but I was furious.
They put away their trickology for a while.
If you believe the media,
you'd think I was totally weird.
According to them, I never mean anything.

Catherine, while still blond and attractive, has aged around the corners of the eyes.

Greetings to the people,
this is Tania.
Our actions of April 15
forced the Corporate State
to help finance the revolution.
As for being brainwashed,
the idea is ridiculous beyond belief.
I am a soldier in the People's Army.

I am Tania and We are not fooling around.

What could have been a tremendous instrument for change—Patty's kidnapping—has failed, and their old attitudes toward life—I guess it's called ‘conservatism’—are back

The kids who went to public schools
were not the kind of people
we should have close associations with.
As a result, I spent twelve years
almost totally surrounded by young people
who were busily developing
ruling class aspirations.

She has nowhere to go,
as resulted in only a change of captors.
But at least now,
as long as society is her
she does not have to worry about being killed.
Freedom may be a more awesome
-- you are not here to decide that.
We have a framework,
the SLA predicted this trial.
If we can't break the chain
at some point in their predictions,
there are going to be other Patricia Hearsts,
the blueprint is plain,
it works

A year and a half after her kidnapping,
she's in the safe arms of the law.
So, what does she do?
Patty gives the revolutionary salute,
even when she's in handcuffs.
And when she's booked,
she's asked her occupation
and what does she say?
Urban guerilla.

Bailey, I just –
I don't know him,
you know,
like he just kind of drifts in
and you know,
says blah, blah, blah
and I just go,

It was never true that our objective was to reconvert her.

You can almost see how Patty couldn’t relate to her—you know, trying to be so self-righteous and so upright.

Well, I always knew
that the Lord was in my life,
kind of on my shoulder.
I started to stray off
I always knew His hand
was there to bring me back.
I got to the house,
put my bags down in the entry,
went right to the kitchen
and the first thought on my heart was
I need to hear Jesus.
I picked up that Bible
and started in Matthew 1:1.
For that whole five days
I read and cried
and read and cried.

In short order, she returned to being the Patty Hearst of Hillsborough, California, the heiress herself.

It's kind of fun because back then,
there's nothing else to do but paint your nails.
It's really exciting.
I have been crocheting now.
At least, my mother came in and she asked –
she had asked me,
about my hair,
you know,
can I change it back?
She asked if there was a beauty parlor.

Her eyes are,
for the most part,
as if she were sharing a secret with

She’s such a devoted, old-fashioned Southern lady, that we just died watching her facade break. That hysteria wasn’t just grief that Patty was gone—it was guilt, you know, ‘What have I done wrong?’

I'm being treated in accordance
with the Geneva Convention
and one of the conditions being
that I am not being tried
for crimes which I'm not responsible for.
I'm here because
I'm a member of a ruling class family,
and I think you can begin to see the analogy.

She writes these dramatic
love letters to her boyfriend saying,
"I want to keep up the fight for the revolution."
And she wants to overthrow the government in America,
which she spells A-M-E-R-I-K-K-K-A.

Q. And you were reading a paper, were you not, when they were in the store?
A. Yes.
Q. And you looked up from that paper, did you not, and you saw that William Harris was being held on the ground by someone and being detained, isn’t that true?
A. Yes.
Q. And you picked up an automatic weapon and shot in the direction of Mel’s Sporting Goods Store?


I have a really nice brown pantsuit.
Al got it.
He has really good taste.

Trish Tobin
is telling her
that she is about to head off to Switzerland
to go skiing for three weeks.
I mean,
so what you have
in this compressed circumstance
is the old life skiing in Switzerland
for three weeks,
and Patty is saying,
I've got a life now.
I've got a new life.

The Hearsts are really ramping up for this one.
He is a bright guy,
but in terms of just his manner and his dress,
you couldn't help but be struck by
how square he was.

Q: I've become conscious and can never go back to the life we had before." Do you recall saying those words?
A: I don’t recall seeing a transcript of that tape.

I have chosen to stay and fight.

She is still an uncommonly handsome woman, prettier in fact than any of her daughters.

It’s a miracle she survived at all.
The ordeal nearly killed me,
Mrs. Hearst once admitted and,
asked what sustained her,
she answers instantly: My religion.
Yet her victory over despair
sometimes seems more apparent than real.
After her divorce, she moved to Beverly Hills,
where she supported Catholic causes
and joined the Beverly Hills Garden Club.

I just want to tell you like, my politics are real different from way back when.
Obviously, right.

Q. Is it not true that you ejected
from your automatic weapon
a live round and placed into it
an additional clip?
A. I did not have an automatic weapon.
Q. You did not?
A. No.
Q. What type of weapon did you have?
A. It was an M-I carbine.

She’s a victim of thought control by terrorists. And all I can do is hope and pray that God will bring her home again.

She was de-programmed and de-radicalized,
returned to the persona
more similar to what she was
She was essentially brainwashed
by her side team and her lawyers.
By the time she walked into the courtroom,
nail polish,
nice pair of shoes,
very well dressed,
it was impressive.

I'm terribly happy. More happy than predacious.
Do you have any notion what you'll say to her when you see her?
I'll tell her I love her.
Are there questions that you want to ask her?
No questions in my mind.

I want to see my parents, and my sisters... I'm really happy to be going home.
zoie marie lynn Aug 2018
i’ve never fallen in love before
but i’m telling you
if i did,
my bones would screech and creak and crack to build you a home that doesn’t fight back
i would shower you with love until you drowned because i don’t know how to love unless it becomes too much someway or somehow
you would become all that i breathe and need and see and the very sound of your name would be enough to cause another relapse
because i’ll get addicted too soon and too fast and you’ll think it’s great
at first
until i’m publicly on my knees aching for your velvet kisses back
i've never cared for someone this way before
but i'm telling you
if i did,
my lungs would collapse and inflate again and again because you will be the only thing i'll ever breathe in
the people in my life would never amount to you, and maybe that's a little messed up but i wrote it
felt it
bled it, so it must be true
because i don't know how to let someone in unless i push every other person out and you'll love my attention
at first
you're throwing glass plates at my following figure
you're yelling regrets and things i should've considered
you hate me
because you don't want to be the only one
even if i want you to be.
i’ve danced with the devil because he has the prettiest eyes i’ve ever seen in my life
but i didn’t love him
i’ve kissed the hands of god because he smells like my childhood home and i liked that a lot
but i didn’t love him
i’ve cut open my skin for my first girlfriend because she promised to stay and that drove me insane
but i didn’t love her
and i’m telling you
if i did
i would write a poem convincing her that i didn’t
because i’ve never loved in a way that doesn’t became some form of a burden.
and i don’t love you
but i am going to scrub my words into your naked body and i am going to promise that there’s nobody
but you
and you are going to love every second of it
because you’ve given in to destruction and seduction and you already understand everything about pain
you already know there’s everything to lose and i’m the only thing you’d gain
but that’s okay
because you’ve never fallen in love before.
i've been beaten and bruised but nothing hurts more than you
Pyrrha Dec 2018
Life is a rose
Sometimes it showers you in its petals
Sometimes it makes you grab it by the thorns
But even when you bleed the rose is still the prettiest gift you'll ever recieve

My favorite flower will always be the radiant sunflower,
But my life sprouts from the seed of a rose
And I may never be as tall or happy as a sunflower

But I still refuse to walk away from the sun
The beams like glitter dancing off a dream
A dream I'm too small and scared to reach

I am not afraid of being and accepting who I am
This little garden patch grows despite going through the harshest summers, dryest droughts, and most desperate winters
Other roses wilt and wither away

I make this garden shine with the sunflowers in my eyes
Love May 2017
You become annoyed by a flash,
make a rude comment,
and go on with our day.
A wasted breath,
The pictures you hate are the ones I savor.

Let me tell you a little story.
A story of a girl named Rose.
She was my best friend.
The quiet girl with the kindest soul.
She never spoke in public but once we were alone she would never shut up.
She was the prettiest girl I have ever laid my eyes upon, the prettiest girl I have ever laid my hands on.
The prettiest girl I have ever loved.

When I met her, she was cliche.
She had stick straight red hair, glasses, freckles, skinny, and always had a book in her hand.

When she died she looked like death was her personal designer with a gay sidekick.

I could spend years describing this beautiful girl I called Rosie, but you would never be able to fully comprehend her beauty because I have no proof of the girl she once was.

A beautiful red rose.
Jonny Angel Apr 2014
I loved your smile
& the first time
I watched myself
disappear like that,
I understood why,
you were the
prettiest person on Earth.
Myriah Apr 2015
I bet you're the prettiest
at 12 am,
when you're scared,
and sad,
and you just need some.
This is when you're
the prettiest
because it's when you're
the most honest.
suicidalsmiles Mar 2015
I use to be like Summer. A burst of brilliant red like when you bite into a perfectly ripe Strawberry. I stained his lips with my sugar-sweet kisses. Like evening’s Cotton Candy sunsets and blushing clouds trimmed with falling golden light, I was your whole sky, morning, evening and night; you marveled at my untouchable beauty, so close but yet so far. I was a Summer storm, rolling thunder and shattering lightning, electricity running through your bones. I was the pitter-pattering rain, tap dancing upon your room, humming you to sleep, every night you saw me in your dreams and always played them back to me. In your sleep you would see me, dancing far away  to somewhere where there was no other-side-of-the-fence, grass was always green wherever my feet touched the earth in between joyful leaps. Where the wind was music in the trees and the grass flowed in fluid motion like dancers caught up in the melody, where the wildflowers bobbed up and down and where the fleeting Robin never left, for there it is always Spring. Yes indeed, I was like wild flowers in mid July, I was the magical meadow tender and warm, hidden away in the pockets of your heart away from the dark, I was a safe haven you happened to stumble upon while fleeing the snapping jaws of the shadow wolves in the Forbidden Forest. Bright and strong like a sunflower, I did not bend in even the most wild wind, and you could lean against me and take in my strength, my untainted, yellow light. Soft and simple but still enough, like a daisy. I made a necklace of my prettiest flowers and hung it around your neck, a most beautiful and delicate daisy chain, my petals kissed and tickled your chest. But I was also vibrant like a Indian Paint Brush, I painted you the prettiest picture, promising passion in streaks of brilliant color, I promised you everything, my roots, my stems, my leaves, my blossoms, everything. And the promise ignited a wildfire within your shivering heart, and spread through your bones, to the black of your eyes, reflecting the fragmented image of me swimming beneath the broken lake’s surface, the white of my skin and the ripple of my hair, you reached into the water blinded, you dug through the sand until you caught me. Oh yes, I was the sunlight dancing on the kaleidoscope forest floor, that you chased trying to catch a handful of light, and I was the fairy circle you wished upon. Yes, I was your Summer.

And as the days grew shorter and the nights became colder I discovered that whenever my mind would wander it would always seem to fall back to you. I remember one night, it must have been in August, the night was pure and honest, and I was caught up in the infinity of the swirling, silver cosmos. My father joined me at my side and pointed up at the sky and showed me the North Star, I had never seen it before. He told me that it was like a compass that would point you home; the lost man’s final hope. Something about that brilliant twinkling star rendered me helpless, I was lost in it’s hypnotizing light. I stared at that star for the rest of the night wonderstruck by it’s beauty and the comforting thought that it knew the way to anywhere you wanted to be. And as the Sun ascended the horizon’s heavenly staircase and peaked in a mirage of smudged pastels for the first time in my life, I felt lost, I felt lost without that star. I all of a sudden had so many questions but no answers, I grasped for sure footing in my jagged thoughts, but was startled to find that you kept popping into my mind, as bright and clear and undeniable as that, stupid, beautiful, bewitching star, and I found myself wondering if somehow, someway, you had become my North Star, the compass that could show my wandering soul the way. And as the world was morphed into view under Daylight’s knowing hands, I realized it was true, you were my last hope, you were going to take me home to a place I didn’t even know, but suddenly was desperately homesick for. And I tried so hard to fall out of alignment with you, to break away from your orbit and run from the galaxy that would soon be us, and the black hole that would **** me up. But I was going up against Gravity, and I was pulled down, down, down.

No matter how I tried, how much I told myself that you were not the only star I could see, that you were not my infinity. But it was futile and somewhere I knew that, I knew that as well as I knew that I wanted you to be my infinity, and I yours. I wanted to create the most beautiful galaxy the Seven Continents had ever seen, so vast and far that no telescope could capture it, and scientists would forever marvel how it came to be. But nowadays, I ask perhaps, If I had known what would happen when the Universe could no longer contain our overpowering glow, what would happen when my North Star exploded? When all I would have left would be memories that would leave a deep scar, but I wouldn’t be able to remember why, leaving me as clueless as I was that first night; when all I would have is whispers that were almost too quiet to hear but would constantly be a murmur in my ear? Have you ever stepped outside and looked up the night sky when the world is asleep and still, but the sky is more alive than you?  Have you ever tried to take a picture to remember the wondrous spectacle Mother Nature and the Heavenly Father have laid out for you? You can try all you want, and use up all the memory on your phone, but no matter what you do, you cannot capture the beauty above you. The pictures if not blurred from your frustrated shaking hands, are simply screens of black, with dots of white that could be dust where stars are supposed to be. And you must walk under those stars, to you they shine so loud and clear, they are right there for God’s sake, but you cannot capture their beauty, you cannot touch them. You must endure the torture of knowing but lacking. And that’s what would happen to me when my North Star exploded into whimsical stardust, when you left me in the pitch black; slowly I am being crushed by the weight of absolute nothingness. And ******, even if I had known this is what would happen to us, that this would happen to me...even if I had known all this to be true, I know I would follow you into that unsure, perilous blue where every man is for himself. Because everything is fair in love and war. And even to this day, over a year later, I would retrace my steps back to that night, and let you destroy my horizon, my faith in 11:11, and belief in shooting stars all over again, if only for a glimpse of you, my darling North Star, Pivoting Axle of my world, my Gravity, my Endless Summer; my Infinity.  

Because soon it became clear that you were my Summer too. You wrapped your loose ends around me and rocked me to sleep in your makeshift cradle like the hammock out back that we used to nap in, do you remember that? You were the pile of books that I whirl through every Summer under the Weeping Willow Tree. You made me smile, you made me laugh, you made me blush and you made me terribly sad. For even then you were my defining phrase and favorite quote that I felt spoke to me the most. You were the birds in the trees singing their fragile hearts out, you told me of Summers past, and how you accidently went backwards and migrated straight into the darkest winter you’d ever seen and couldn’t find your way out of the storm. And that’s why underneath my daisy chain your heart was laced with icy carnations, that’s why your lungs were filled with puffs of smoke that looked like a breath in the biting cold. And that’s why your lips were so ugly, bruised black, purple and blue, proof of what you’ve been through, and every time you tried to explain your torn past, your lips got worse, your skin became terribly chapped, and your voice cracked as you tried to fight back, but the words eventually bled through your lips, so you learned not to speak, because you hated to bleed. But regardless of your cold words and colder shoulder, you were still Summer to me.You were the fireworks on the 4th of July, you lit up the world and were all that I could see, I couldn’t look away, I was afraid to miss a thing. You were the crunch of graham crackers when you bite into a perfect s'more, and you were the laughter when your marshmallow catches on fire.  You were my favorite time of the day, in between night and day, when the sky melts into this glorious turquoise blue, and the silhouette of the pine trees stand out against the fading light. You were quiet and thoughtful, the feeling you get when you sit atop a Ferris Wheel at the the County Fair, you’re a little bit scared, but you can’t help but be blown away by the world below your dangling feet. You were the spike of fear and the adrenaline rush you get when you dive off a cliff into the water, you can’t help but wonder if there are dangerous rocks at the bottom, even though you know it’s too late and there is no stopping your falling body now. But you feel alive, you feel alive and when you survive, you feel unstoppable. That’s the way you made me feel, I was afraid of how much I loved you, how you could tear me apart and push me to the end of the world, and with a brush of your heavy fingertips I would topple over the edge, and I faced the monstrosity of wondering what it would like to be dead, and just before I would let myself go and come to an endless end, you would pull me back up and dust me off, wipe my tears and bandage my bleeding elbows and knees; I was scared that maybe you hurt me just to be the only one who knew what would save me. And I was absolutely terrified of that fact that if that was true, I would still love you. I was scared of you, I was scared of what would happen when Summer came to a end.

I remember I went to California that year for the very first time in my life right before school started. I thought it would be good, to be away from you. I told myself I hoped that you would get bored of waiting for me to come back home and find another girl to give the world, but deep down I knew that I wanted you to wait more than anything. But denial is my thing, as you would soon know all too well, it’s what I do best. So I denied my feelings for you, I denied having any at all. (I still do to this day.) And it was only in California, that I finally realized that I couldn’t keep lying to myself. It happened late at night, as I suppose the most truthful thoughts always do. I couldn’t sleep, I tossed and turned and rolled and stretched but the bed was lumpy and the sheets were suffocating and I found myself slipping away,  tiptoeing across the squeaking floor and squeezing out of the heavy wood door, into the fog and sea salt air. I walked for a very long time. I think when people are near the ocean, and have sins they have to wash from their bloodstained palms, they find a friend in the Ocean, someone to hold their hand and teach them how to stand and walk upon water. And that night, I glided to the ocean like a ghost whose tables had been turned and broken, and now finds itself the the haunted one with blistering splinters that it can not see, left over from a world that could not be; made up of broken promises, what if’s and missed moments they can never get back. The Ocean’s magnitude overwhelmed me and neutralized the quiet chaos bubbling beneath my skin. The rabid froth and spit of crashing waves put out the fire that was eating away at me and the undertow pulled me into the blue. I floated through the undefined blur of the the aqua world. I ran my hands through the rocky sand and felt the urgent weight and staggering cold of the water pulling me under, but risking my life in that current among the frothing foam horses racing against the Moon’s tide made me feel so alive. I am no mermaid, I cannot breathe underwater, but for the first time in seemingly forever I had air in my collapsing lungs, and I didn’t know you could drown on dry land until I was dying in the sea. But it was not my time, and I awoke washed up on the scraping sand with water in my ringing ears, knotted hair and no feeling in my blue fingers. I sat there on the diamond sand for a long time until I was strong enough again to lift my arm and slowly I reached into the sky, and grabbed my North Star and pulled it into my heart and where it glowed, I scrubbed myself clean of my history and orthodox scriptures with the salt of the sea and was born again free of frown lines. Something about the Ocean brings clarity, and yes it is dangerous and chaotic, it could destroy the world and wipe us all away, leaving not a trace of the human race, but the Ocean is a lifeboat, a saviour of many in a way. When you find yourself faced with a whole new infinity, a horizon that only ends when it meets another, you are small, and you are still. You are pinned against your past but then can remember how to breathe again, you exhale the toxic smoke swirling in your lungs and inhale the mist. Exhale the past, inhale the future, breathe child-for you are here, no longer there. You are small and you are still but you are real. And that night I learned two of Life’s endless lessons. First; People love what kills them. Faced with death you are flooded with life, it ignites your brittle bones and breathes music back into the silent calamity of your echoing heart. People love what kills them. Second; the person you think of when you stand in front of the ocean. That’s the person you’re in love with. And I thought of you, you, you. I thought of you and I never stopped. And it’s killing me.  

But I knew something but really nothing of death back then. So when I got home a week before school I asked if we could meet somewhere in between. And we did. Beneath glaring flick of fluorescent lights in the gas station’s parking lot that didn’t stay any open later than ten, surrounded by everything ugly about humans, rusty pennies, tumbling plastic bags, stomped out cigarette butts and smashed beer cans, you held my hands and kissed me for the very first time, and suddenly, the world was beautiful. We walked hand in hand for the longest time, but found ourselves just a block past the lonely parking lot, by the town’s fountain. We sat there and splashed out feet in the ***** water enjoying the feeling of being. You had brought a bag of Skittles and sorted the red ones from the rest, and when I asked why with a laugh you sheepishly admitted you remembered that I thought that the red ones were the best and that the lemons made my face wrinkle and nose tickle. I poked fun at you for remembering something that silly, but truthfully it meant the world to me, because it meant someone out there was listening to even the simplest things I had to say. And in the fluid reflection of those pool lights rippling across your perfect face, I could tell that even though that pitiful fountain was no ocean, that you were thinking only of me. That night we shot ourselves into the dark like shooting stars and fell into each other, that fateful night was the night we became each other’s North Star. But in the end, no one knows where that star is taking them, they call it a lost man’s compass and the last hope, but if he is lost is his compass not broken, or else wouldn’t he be home? Is hope then of no use? Are North Stars just poetry to salvage doomed souls? I often wonder if, regardless of our faith in each other’s sense of direction, if that night was the most we ever knew each other.

You told me you loved Cheezits, and Lucky Charms with Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup. You admitted that you chewed your nails to tiny stubs when you felt to much because all you ever wanted to be was numb. You confessed that you had trouble looking at your dad the same and saying,”I love you,” to your mom and tried to explain why video games were any fun. I pointed out all the scars on my legs and how I got them, whether it was from tearing through my childhood neighborhood on my Barbie tricycle or if it was from running over gravel trying to outrun myself and everything evil that clung to me. I muttered between my  hands and embarrassed giggles why I was terrified of fish and flies, and you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. I recalled for the first time the night mom died and everything that followed that night, awful night that never seemed to end, and with a quivering bottom lip counted off everything th
I'm making a mini series, after months of not writing, not sleeping, not eating & not feeling, the words have come back to me, and it's wonderful. I'm sorry for being gone so long lovlies. P.S I'm sorry it's so long oh my gosh
Marian May 2013
For my Enchanted Woodland Fairy
Who is so very sweet
She always encourages me
With the sweetest of words
She loves me and I her
She has little fluttering wings
And she has a crown of rosebuds
Sitting upon her pretty hair
Today is my Fairy's Birthday
She will eat the most sweetest cake
And drink the most wonderful honeysuckle dew
With her lips of cherry
She kisses the flowers sweet
She weaves the most prettiest gowns
For the other little Fairy folk
Who use those gowns to dance in
Under the Enchanting Moonlight
That dances through my bedroom at Night
She is a sweet Fairy with a pretty
Her has the prettiest ringlets
That I ever did see
She dances through the rain and through the snow
And yes, you've guessed it
Her name is Adreishka Moonlight Luciano

Happy Birthday, dear Fairy!!! I love you!!!! I hope you enjoy this!!! :) ~<3
XinsanityX Aug 2013
I want to be your abacus baby,Oh you can count on me.
I wont say that i love you, or i heart you, I less than 3 you.
Your molecules must be moving fast,girl. Cause your really hot.
Are you igneous sedimentary or metamorphic? All i know is baby you rock.
And if god existed I'd thank him for you, but I'm rational and read a lot of Sam Harris.
Your beautiful like the font garamad,but i want to see you sandarac, take your pants off.
I want to be your abacus baby, you can count on me,
And i observe your quirks oscillating, and I'm formulating, a g-string theory..
Like an archeologist,I'm gonna try and compute your age. cause i really want to date you.
You make me feel like a male giraffe. I want to nudge your **** and make you urinate,and mate you.
Scientific fact,thats what they do.
The value of my love for you cannot be expressed exactly. More rational then Pi.
Hey "****" is a legitimate word in scrabble, just FYI
I want to be your abacus baby, you can count on me.
You can **** me into your super massive black hole, the center of your galaxy. Im talkin ******.
I may not be the strongest or the prettiest, but my knowledge of grammar shines.
I know how to use the words  further and farther..correctly. Every fricken time.
Example:farther indicates physical distance
and further a depth or degree
example: the moon is getting farther from the earth
about 4 centimeters annually. Fun factoid,take it home with ya.
You just keep getting further into my heart.
You just keep getting farther into my heart.
I want to be your abacus baby, you can count on me,and if the situation is ambiguous, further and farther can be used interchangeably. Just a fun factoid.
I want to be your abacus baby, you can count on me.
Baby i less than 3 you.
So please take off your pants.
Sour Patched Kid May 2016
the prettiest picture i paint
is biting cold, grey steel
counting down to
my great relief,
wondering if my teeth
will shatter
before eight pounds of pressure
turns all my thoughts, desires, and memories
the prettiest picture i paint.
Echo Dec 2014
~The prettiest butterfly flew into my window,
She had spots on her wings, beautiful spots,
She flew with a certain flow.
The beat of her wings, lifted my heart.
I love this butterfly, no doubt.
She's been there for me, when I've fallen.
She's been there to help me out.
I've known her for five months now,
I love her, that I do.
She's the best thing that has ever happened to me,
I just wish she could see it, too.
She's dying inside, her heart melting.
I wish I could save her, if I only knew,
That that butterfly,
The best friend I could have,
Went back out my window, and flew~
Spotty, if anything happens to you I would truly melt. In a friendly sort of way, I love you. You helped me through the mess in my life and knew how to lift me when I was sold out. I'm not giving up on a best friend like you. You're right, life has brought us together. You are everything to me, please God teach this butterfly how to fly. She's so much to me. I've never had a best friend like her~
jeffrey conyers Mar 2013
You carry it well.
And this many guys can tell.
It's deep within you.
And on the outside too.

Oh, beautiful woman.
You're the prettiest woman in the world.
Any guy can surely tell this.

Yes, beautiful woman.
You wear your looks very well.
You don't talk about it.
You don't brag about it.
You just take the compliments.

Oh, beautiful woman.
You make a man feel proud of you.
Am I losing my luster ?
I used to shine and pride over words I spilled
I thrilled over each line
Like I had something to do with the way they laid
Delicately over white page, over soft glowing screen
It seems more likely that the words
That rise like high tide beneath my skin
Fall on there own accord and become something more only
After I have come away
Its in our separation, in my
Neglect and abandonment
That others hold, reach handle it and
There is a fine line, I straddle it
Between what the words want
And what I though I’d mean
And the things that you glean reading between
And the prettiest parts of these simple things
Are the ones that you see that far escaped me
Just beyond my intention more an accident then invention.
I just write when the pressure is high
But as any poet or poetess will confess I
Can hardly claim its what I envisioned
As far as pride
These things write themselves
I'm nearly stretching the truth when I claim
I was only here to help.
I have seen her a stealthily frail
flower walking with its fellows in the death
of light,against whose enormous curves of flesh
exactly cubes of tiny fragrance try;
i have watched certain petals rapidly wish
in the corners of her youth;whom,fiercely shy
and gently brutal, the prettiest wrath
of blossoms dishevelling made a pale
fracas upon the accurate moon….
Across the important gardens her body
will come toward me with its hurting ****** smell
of lilies….beyond night’s silken immense swoon
the moon is like a floating silver hell
a song of adolescent ivory.
Marian May 2013
Like a gazelle she ballets with gracefulness
Like a ballerina
Dancing to Dance of the Little Swans
With beauty and grace
Oh let me see thy fair face,
Sweet sister of mine
Let me watch you ballet gracefully
Through woods, fields, and meadows
She sleeps soundly in a bed of ferns
Oh sweet sister of mine
With the most prettiest satin wings you ever saw
And a pretty pink flowing gown
And soft pale pink ballet slippers
With the most pristine pink ribbons
Tied around her delicate ankles
She ballets, Oh sister of mine
With a crown of baby rosebuds on her
And rosettes on her gown
She dances with delight, Oh, fair sister of mine
She dances even more beautifully
And gracefully
Than the yellow sunflowers
Of gold that waltz in fields and meadows
Dance for me, Oh fair sister of mine
Dance to me on hills of sublime green
Dance, Oh, beautiful sister of mine
Ballet for me gracefully like the
Lotus ballets upon the sapphire lake
Ballet Oh, sweetest sister of mine
Waltz for me in a field of dancing flowers
Waltz for me, Oh, dear sister of mine
I love you, oh, graceful sister of mine

Written for my sweet sis, Adreiska Moonlight!!! Ballet to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata played by piano in the Moonlight which dances through my room. But you, dearest sis, can ballet much more finer than Moonlight!!! Because you are those rays!!!! :) ~<3

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