Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
nadi Nov 2018
disney films made me look for my own prince charming;
romantic how's and where's of our meeting,
clouded my little mind, even when i'm dreaming
though each day, chances are sinking

the stars had declined all my wishes upon them
perhaps i'm not destined to have golden emblems
but the heavens have given me a whole gem
not covered with silk and not found in a whimsical castle
waiting to be discovered, living with the gravel
too far from perfection, opposite of a man from a novel

was you.
you're no disney prince charming,
you didn't have the carpet to get me to the right direction,
either the thousand lanterns to guide me home,
the magical kiss to bring my soul back to its own,
for you are hope to fly my own carpet,
light my own lanterns,
kiss my soulless being,
a prince who inspires, and believes i can,
rather than change me because he ought to.


this is not disney,
this is my journey, and about you, supporting me from afar,
the same way as i do.
for: 000606
Steve Page Feb 4
A TEAM SPORT

[In the voice of your favourite over-excited rugby commentator.]

We're inside the final quarter. We've seen a bone-cruncher of a contest today and there's no sign of a let up, the prayers gather for the next engagement, positioning themselves with practiced confidence, skillfully supporting each other, ready for the push.  You can see every knee and each hand bears the marks from this long muddied pray, red and brown staining every inch of their entwined limbs; - arms and hands holding fast.

Front row.
Second row.
Back row.
Digging in for the big push.

The opposition has played an intelligent game, taking advantage of any lapse in concentration, any sign of tiredness, looking for any weakness to exploit.  The prayers know they can't afford any slips now, they need to keep up the pressure, maintain their advance deep in the opposition's half.  Every yard of gained ground needs to be defended.

The prayers' Coach looks on - look at his smile! You can see the pride he has for his team, he's schooled them on every tactic of the opposition and now that training, that practice has paid dividends. This is a team of prayers that so clearly know each other well, supporting each other every step of the way. You can see their co-ordinated pray, their sustained effort and the sheer pleasure they feel when they are praying together.

The prayers drive on.  The sound of their groans and deep breaths merge into one. There's a rhythm to it, a cadence as together they push and PUSH. 

The opposition's footing is slipping, the prayers' momentum gains pace and, YES! the resistance collapses.  Oh, that must have hurt!

But there's no time for complacency, the prayers re-form their line looking for the next opening, the next opportunity to push forward.

This is a joy to see.  The Coach shouts his encouragement - this was never going to be an easy struggle; you can't dismiss the opposition - they are a seasoned though sometimes disorganised team and they can take you by surprise.  But as we've seen here today, the Coach knows that if his team of prayers keep to the plan and pray to their strengths, the opposition are surely in for a hiding. The prayers will triumph and they will take the winners' crown.
- Back to you in the studio.
Inspired by the Six Nations tournament
Bill Johnston May 21
Companions
in love, out, in,
reaching, rejecting, drama,
cursing, cuddling, crying, smiling,
using, supporting, arguing, living
surreally.
LizO Jul 2018
The Moon said
I’m sick of this sh*t!
Playing Earth’s supporting role
Is not my only trick.
That ****** of planet
Can go and get stuffed,
With my entrancing silver beauty
I might just leave it in the dust.
Carter Ginter Dec 2017
Yes I hurt you
Yes I broke your heart
But I've been here since the end
I let you call me breaking down
Even though I was with my girlfriend
Simply because no one else would listen
And I ******* care about you

Yes I emailed you first
You chose to listen to others instead
And told me to move on
Two weeks pass
And you reach out to me
You want me back
But I had my closure
and started exploring new options

Yes I'm polyamorous
And it's been the best realization of my life
But to you I'm just selfish
I can't commit
Just because I can't be your property anymore
You even said you'd try it with me
Then turned around and called it debauchery

Yes I've made mistakes
I'm only human
And I'm growing every day
I am becoming a better person
But how can I keep moving forward
With you constantly tearing apart my soul?

Yes I say your words don't hurt
But I ******* love you
So they brand pain into my entire existence
And keep hurting both myself
And my beautiful new relationship
Because I'm putting all my energy into you

And yes I let it keep happening
But not anymore
I told your dad you tried to OD
I may have saved your ******* life
But all I did was ruin you right?
I tore you down and broke your hopes and dreams?
Tell me how, when I've been here the whole time
I have been supporting you in
Whatever you want to do with your life
I've been validating your feelings and
Trying to be there for you to talk
Because no one else was listening
But I'm just a piece of trash right?

No
I won't let you lead my life anymore
No
You don't get to steal my happiness
No
I will not let you hurt my relationship
No
I may have made mistakes but I'm not entirely bad
No
You do NOT get to take your anger out on me
Not anymore
I'm done
I'm out

Enjoy your life now
Because I'm done being the reason you hate it
You made your own choices
And you don't get to take that out on me
Not anymore
I'm done.
Pau May 28
perhaps i will always just be a supporting character
to everyone's story.
never the protagonist,
nor the antagonist,
not even the deuteragonist.
i'm just a minor character,
a passerby,
someone to fill in the show.
because when a damsel like you called for the hero,
and i came running,
tending to your wounds,
you kissed me thanks,
and bid me goodbye.
and then you sat there and waited
again,
and tore out the already healing scar.

there and then i realized,
i'm not a hero,
not in your story anyway.
i could never be,
for you chose not to see me.
Kleigh Sep 1
That day, you caught my eye
Looking for a reason why
One day, I saw you laugh
That makin' me fall in love
Today, you're the cause of my euphoria
You make me begin to feel this way
You're everything I wanted and more
You're the one I'm praying for
Hoping that I'll be your girl
But maybe not today

Even I will wait you forever
Nothing else matter
It'll help me to feel better
To live in your melody
Like an energizer of my body
I will dance every beat you make
Slay it, like a piece of cake
I will sing every song you sing
In every word make it shinning
Even I'm not with you from the start
Your music make us unite like an art
Supporting you is just a part
Even our distance far apart
I will love you until the last beat of my heart
Living loving you
Jim Davis Jun 10
Scrounging local garage sales... near ten years past... I had found a flat, welded iron, rusty seahorse... 3 feet high... with a good seahorse shape and poise... edges welded and cut... after the haggle... twenty-five dollars..... perfectly added to my estate... covered rust in gold sheen... mounted upon a tree... to greet all comers... with a seahorse kiss!    
     Seller said it was made by the same artist... of the turtle lady statue... to be found in Corpus Christi!  Asked if I had seen it... my reply... No, but I liked the seahorse piece! He expounded... the artist... only had one leg... but was a surfer... well known for this trait... in Corpus Christi!  
     After I had mounted the seahorse... upon its tree...I did an internet search... looking for anything about the one-legged surfer artist of Corpus Christi!  Found... nothing!  
     End of May, 2019... visiting my sister, Donna... we were wandering Corpus Christi!  She guided us to the surf museum... not knowing the story... of the one-legged surfer artist... creator of my mounted seahorse!  
     Girl at the front desk... Kyla... real nice and friendly... told her about the seahorse and questioned her... she didn’t know... she never heard of a surfer with one leg or the turtle lady statue!  Looking at us just a bit strangely... one legged surfer???
      Anyhow... Donna and I... started our stroll through the small museum!  Along the right side... stood a long row of surfboards... I’ve never surfed... but I was imagining trying it with just one leg!  
     Anyhow... I didn’t really stop to read or look in any detail at any of the exhibits until I reached the back... there was a glass case... which had a piece of simple letter paper...  8.5x11... taped to the front of the glass cabinet!  I started in reading the last paragraph...

“Welch, 53, and his wife, Chelsea Louise, 23, died September 15, 2001, when their car plunged off the edge of South Padre Island’s Queen Isabella Causeway, which partially collapsed after a string of barges crashed into the bridge’s support pilings!

Thought to myself... Wow... Who is this guy???  I jumped up to the middle paragraph...

     “Welch lost one of his lower legs in an auto accident in the 1970s, but he kept surfing with a prosthesis.  He wore a peg-like prosthesis at first, then got one with a foot.  He won the prosthesis division of the United States Surfing Championships on South Padre Island in 1998.”

     In the glass case was a welded metal sculpture of a beach scene... with waves, palm trees, and all!  The piece did have some resemblance in style to my seahorse sculpture!  Also, there was a picture on top of the case of Harpoon Barry... striking a muscular, no shirt pose... in his tattoo shop... his torso covered in tattoos!  
     It is said... he was on the verge of suicide after losing his leg. In one interview with the San Antonio Express News in 1992 he said;  "I may not make it to heaven, but you can be sure I made no deals with the devil to get where I'm at now, "  Looking down at his false leg stretched out in front of him, Welch said quietly: "It is a real empty feeling when you put one of these on for the first time, especially if you are an adult on your own. And your mama'a not there and your daddy's not there, and the people in the hospital tell you, 'This is the best it's going to get.  I made my first leg myself, out of Hi-C cans. I couldn't wait for my leg to get finished. I wanted to walk. I guess I got the idea from the Tin Woodsman in 'The Wizard of Oz.' That leg actually worked pretty well!”
    
     I had found my one-legged surfer artist!  I walked towards Donna... who was already half-way leaving the museum...  I hollered to her... she just had to come see this ... “I think I found the one-legged surfer!”  She had recently had partial knee replacement... and was hobbling!  She said if I was fooling her... she better not walk back all that way for nothing!! She came back to the glass case... we read through the letter in it’s entirety!  
     Then we went... and told Kyla at the front desk... she again looked at us again a bit strange... but then reluctantly left her post to go with us to take a look... she was then astounded!  Said she never knew about the one-leg... although she had worked at the museum for several years!  Said there were also a couple metal sculptures... at the front of the museum... she thought were also done... by Harpoon Barry!  We took pictures of those also!  

In the letter we also read...

     “Welch had numerous tattoos and body piercings.  He wore a tiny 14 carrot gold harpoon through one ******.  That is how he got his nick name according to a friend, Scott Gangel.”  

     "I am a unique, self-made sensation!” he said matter-of-factly... in the interview with the Express News!  

..... It's been 18 years since eight people died when South Padre Island's Queen Isabella Memorial Causeway collapsed... sending 11 people into the water below... four days after the 9/11 attacks!  A string of tow barges had struck the supporting pilings!  A section of the roadway had collapsed...

     I promised Kyla... I would donate my seahorse piece to the museum upon my death!  I only hope my death... is as grand as Harpoon Barry’s plunge into the Gulf of Mexico with his young wife!  Wonder what they were doing during the plunge... what was Barry doing... yelling Yippee Ki Yay... or Surf’s up... Dude!!!... maybe???  
    
Surfed waves on one leg
Young wife... crazy life... grand death
Harpooned by Barry

©  2019 Jim Davis
I doubt I could ever match his life!  !  Though...  someday... I might get a tattoo... or two... or a harpoon piercing... perhaps in a ******! Also... still looking for the turtle lady statue!
Yenson Jul 19
If Reality sat in the chambers
a Presiding judge with wig and gown
and Honesty and Sincerity were supporting members
the case would be heard and decisions made without a frown
they would consider the facts as it was in that month of November
their verdict straightforward hold we see no discord irresistibly sown
if  absence of 'mens rea' why not just apologize and douse out embers

So with reality presiding in the Courtroom
the matter before has dragged with no conclusion
plaintiff harbors no guilt, intentions were pure with no gloom
merely sought mutual agreement 'n believed we shared persuasion
my Lords, on my part all required met, there exist no reasons to fume
there rests my case, redress is neither here nor there I seek no evasion
Lords Honesty n Sincerity knows as you Reality sees truth has a room

In the verdict of Reality and supporting Lords
guilt would never be on my side and should not be seen
if the Defendant genuine and real, dare I say amendments easily forged
simple heartfelt relent, warm words as balm to soothe that fiery scene
where deceit n craven lives, positive nuances seem destined to dodge
in fear the sinner hides flinging blames and retorts to that not serene
my coast is clear let my truth be known, that my Lords is what I lodge
Rebekah Jan 14
An awkward stance, a lopsided walk
leaning to the left-hand side,
most likely a result of supporting a tall and lanky silhouette.
The heftiness of your clumsy steps become louder and louder as you come closer,
and as your head tilts, and your shoulders relax,
I see the reflection of my smitten face in your glasses.

Your hair, ***** blond,
and often resembling a birds nest,
has been ruffled just the way I like it.

Your tired wee eyes,
a bi-product of your constant desire (?) to read,
is my favourite sight to see.

Your baggy jumper
hangs off your skinny frame,
and carries the smell of you.
A hint of  Calvin Klein, some musk,
and just the smallest bit of damp (a small chuckle)
but I'd have it no other way.

That smell, jumper, hair, and lopsided walk,
they're safety.
Especially those eyes,
those huge, soft eyes.
They're home for me now.

So make a cup of tea,
and pull up a chair,
because if home be where I lay my hat,
I have laid mine quite certainly.
CloudedVisions Aug 2018
There is a bridge up in the sky
One supported by the clouds
In the air it hangs on tight
But the darkness casts a shroud

Each time you cross this bridge
you learn where it is soft
So each year you make repairs
High up in this sky loft

The bridge is fixed over and over
Year and after year
But that's because there is a problem
Better kick it into gear

The problem is deep down below
Inside the supporting beams
Better hurry, better be quick
To fix where no light gleams

So now you fix the problem below
The soft spots slowly fade
So now you smile, joy within
As you look at the progress made
The most fascinated thing in this nature is your smile..
It took me a way within a while..
It’s natural not artificial not fake ..
Unlike others when they smile...it looks ambiguous

Your smile is my inspiration...
This is  a fact it’s not exaggeration..

You are supporting Youth, sustaining the nation..
Unleash their minds with motivation..

I’m writing for you without any hesitation
With my own words , and with some imagination..


I learnt to smile when I see you  smile
In every step and every mile  

To see the green and enjoy the breeze

flying to sky with Sheikh  Abdulaziz ..
memory is a story.  it's not a
clean story.  it is a story without
a beginning, middle or end.  it has
many words and pictures that are unclear.
plot points can be revealed at awkward times.  
supporting characters become leads and
leads become extras.  the narrator can
be unreliable.  rising action
can build to an underwhelming ******.
quotes seem to appear from unknown sources.
it is full of story threads that don't go
anywhere, like romances that never
bloom and confrontations that won't happen.
many problems are never resolved and
there are stories within the story with
no discernible meaning.  the hero
confronts many obstacles, but it is
uncertain as to whether a goal was
achieved by doing so.  despite these flaws,
the story reveals a truth, like all good
stories do.  the reader is the author,
and the author the reader.  "and so on".
Gant Haverstick 2019
Tai Jan 9
Love is a risk-
You risk your time,
You risk your success,
You risk your sanity.

Love can be the greatest adventure
You have ever cherished.
Love can be the worst adventure
You have ever endured.

It creates clouds,
That we float upon like joyous children on soft spring grass
It creates clouds,
That we fall from like helpless young birds from a tree

Love is a path of unknowns,
It can build us, it can break us
Love is an unyielding war of heart and mind
Leaving our sound judgment in the ashes
Logic is a plan-
You ensure your time,
You ensure your success,
You ensure your sanity.

Logic does not waver
It is a straight path-
Beginning to end.
Logic does not yield adventure

Both Love and Logic-
Arguments present supporting support both
Love wins, Love loses.
Logic wins, Logic loses.

Love is the risk that can make or break
Logic is the set path with no opening
Love and Logic are beautiful.
Love and Logic are hideous.

Pick your poison.
Hands of Love
Hands of Understanding
Hands of Compassion

Ears that hear
Eyes that understand
A heart of wisdom & knowing

Unwavering & supporting
Without blame
Without shame.
Never a criticism given

You heard me.
You held me.
You helped me
Move through Grief
Toward a measure of Serenity.

My dear love
How could I ever repay you?
When someone we love dies, the saddest thing I have experienced is no one there for support. Maybe they did not know how or were lost in their own processes. It was not until now, at 63, that I have felt this unwavering love and support.
Amanda Jean Oct 2016
What are we doing out here
In the wild wild west
Are you showing me something
Or are we here to rest
We've traveled a long road
But I'm not ready to settle yet

Spider crawling up my arm one day
Blood on my quilt the next
Blood splot on the bathroom floor
Hair chopped off
Cut my finger
Cut that ****

Third eye minds eye know you can open it
**** nugs nudging you toward it
Chugging fluoride gotta know its blocking it

Depression crippling lazy thinking I'm not getting anywhere anymore
Dated a slick-back sexist slug of a human
He haunts me in my dreams
I'm trying to dream big dream of everything
But his face shows me where I've been
His hands done healing flex ****** veins, stop stealing!
His mom sewing his mistakes back together again, stop helping!
His dad fueling the fire again at home, stop procreating!
Its not the job of a lover to raise your significant other
Its not my job to shower you with everything I have day after ******* day when all I get in return is leftover pizza and a sore ******
-SOME PEOPLE DON'T KNOW HOW TO LOVE
IT IS NOT ON YOU TO SHOW THEM HOW
SOME WILL TRY OUT THE MOTIONS WITH OTHER MOTIVATIONS IN MIND
BUT LOVE IS NOT JUST AN ACTION IT IS TRULY A LIFESTYLE
Without love I would be dead
Fill
With intention
Else you're dead
Living isn't that easy
Same struggles every day
Being healthy isn't that easy
Definitely more expensive that way
Being human isn't that easy
Hunting my own spirit day after day

Not wanting
Feeling bad
Not supporting
But loving

I have something to say god ******
And don't dare tell me its just the drugs
We need to start questioning what love is
The lack of it is ******* stuff up
I'm high right now if you didn't know it
If I was sober would the words still come out

You say you love me but you don't support it
But how can you love if you don't understand it
Love is unconditional
Love is support

How are you loving when you try to change it
There is no fixing my humanity
You don't know what makes me happy
No one can be trusted

Love

Choice

Choosing

To be loved
When your son visited you,
you embraced him,
you laughed with him,
but certain days
still looked through your eyes
as you caught sight
in your son's gestures
or gleam in his eyes
a sliver of his mother
fish-like
flashing into view,
**** sea-creatures too
of all that angered
and repelled you.

By and by
distance stretched
between you two.
A beautiful woman too
had pulled you in
farther away,
stoking, supporting your anger,
turning you away...

But it wasn't wise.
You had turned away
from his mother, yes,
but you turned as well
from happiness,
for you denied as well
your own blood, flesh and bone.
The woman had turned you away
from a part of yourself, and so
she herself could never know
your love: her distance from you,
from herself too, would grow...
Is this the end?
I know now that have nothing more to give or send.
My will seems that it will no longer bend.

Is this rainstorm finally done?
I think this is finally my turn for fun under the sun.
My hopes and dreams now broken,
awaiting to be redone.

Is this a new chance?
I hope I can keep on going in this never ending dance.
My sturdy mind is finally breaking it's stance.

Is this how I will be?
I don't know if I will ever be able to fully see.
My future is amidst a violent thundering sea.

Is this a chance for a new love?
I doubt it because of these thoughts from above.
My scars on my wrist in consequence of.

Is this my life?
I say thinking this as I reach for the knife.
My mind slowly being driven by truths and lies.

Is this my only question?
I wonder as I'm fueled by my depression.
My want to finally make this confession.

Is this my only fate ?
I only believe that I can sit and just wait.
My life is in a worsening state.

Is this what I need to do?
I am uncertain if this is how to start anew.
My uncertainty is something I need to plow through.

Is this counseling really working?
I have wishes that this is certain.
My new ways seem so supporting.

Is this what I want?
I have to try to be more celebrant.
My joys must act more so an antidepressant.

Is this right?
I cover my sorrows at the sight.
My friends try to act as some sort of light.

Is this the end?
I hope you will be my friend.
My heart doesn't want to just pretend.

So please...
Please be my friend...
I don't want to be alone as I finally comprehend...
All these questions that I always suspend....
Why not?
Passing a cathedral in my home town one thoughtful eventide
my sight collided with an old sculpture of ****** Mary with halo
and i saw ornamental fountain spraying close to the figure
so oft I had winked at the object under night’s camouflage.

I walked on my toes to reach a height and i looked above the fence
so I can see the cathedral’s old looking windows I love seeing
women, men and cupid were painted on it and silhouettes,
florescent shimmering from inside helped moon revealed the arts.

A dark skinned man was passionately blowing a cornet in the cathedral
the harmonious tunes he produced hypnotized few into dancing,
I saw two women close to the entrance door – both fair.
One was holding a book that seemed to be the Christian Holy book
one was wearing a butter-yellow blouse as she danced and clapped.

“Isn’t that Mrs John by the door?” the slim seven month old widow
i saw the salty sea drops her eyes released on her mourning gown,
but she seemed strong after our loss, after her cold loss
like Sir John was there in the cathedral supporting her waist.

Our strength is beautiful and it is also a mighty good to see that
other feelings that balance delights in this ‘love deficient’ world
do not have overwhelming weight to drown eternally into dip
every pumping heart they once or many times had board.

So my thoughts kissed tranquility after six days of psychological troubles,
then I came understand that Sir John was sitting in the cathedral
illuminating the temple better than neighboring lights inside,
But Mrs John’s heart is this temple here where sat John – for eon.
Next page