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Viridian Feb 2018
I have accepted the heart you held in my hand.
I wished to fit it with my own.

But in the process, you kept deliberately cutting my fingers

Was I going too fast? Possibly.
Were my pieces too small? Possibly.
Were the edges too sharp? Possibly.

And yet, I continue to clutch at your shards with ****** palms.
I can't let you go, even if you hurt.
I accepted your heart, and I can't go back on my word.

I will, one day, form a beautiful stained glass portrait of you and I.

No matter how many ounces I bleed, I'll attempt to complete this work of art.
And yet, I ended up shattering more of my own pieces to try and fit them in with yours
Yours, whose pieces weren't meant to fit mine at all
Desmond the poet Apr 2018
Every morning is a chance at a new day.
It’s never a bad life but a bad day.
Appreciate every seizure-free day. great feeling of rising post every fall.

Life's perkier focusing on what truly matters.
Each day may not be seizure-free,
There’s but, something good everyday.

I don’t live once.
Instead I die once.
I live every day.
I’ve been broken.
I’ve been hurt.
I’m however still alive.

https://www.facebook.com/EpilepsyandCpfriends/
As usual I share my experience living with epilepsy. This poem is about focusing on the positive because I'VE learnt a lot from living with this chronic condition.
lonleyflowerx Jun 2016
it's much easier to push people away
before they get the chance to do the same to you
Sahil Sharma Aug 2018
You are a sailor if life is a vast ocean..
Here sail-n-surf,very thrilling notion..

Heart does trade with silly emotion
Desires ditch reality,if you lack devotion

Trusting too early is not so very wise..
People turn strangers in their uprise...

Be an artist not the tyrant of ur life
Anger at its apogee, cut like a knife

In dejection time,even silence is noise
Enduring other's hatred is a better choice

Speech is razor-sharp,can easily slice
Before making a decision,think twice

Eyes turn coy when the truth is caught
Just keep it simple n filter ur thought

Like weather, experiences are cool n hot
Hardwork is perennial but luck is not

Deeds are examined,so keep the token
Progress is still when hopes are broken

Pain is felt when own soul is shaken
Just believe in God when all is taken

Pearls come out during ebb at the shore..
Money gives gold but manners shine more

Success is urgency,patience is the cure
Nothing stays forever,expiry is for sure

Life has its fragrance,life has its taste
Laughter is healthy, worry is waste

Love is water, dilutes colour n caste
Polish your soul,skin goes ashes at last
Grace Feb 2017
You taught me to follow my fate,
You taught me to take the risk and the bait.
You taught me to be strong,
You taught me to never be wrong.
You taught me to feel love,
You taught me to fly free like a dove.
You taught me about truth,
You taught me that in life, there is no ruth.
You taught me to keep fighting for my belief,
You taught me to keep away from relief.
You taught me to fight,
And you taught me what is right.

You were right, this whole time,
You were right, life beats to its rhyme.
You were right, and they were wrong,
You were right, that I was strong.
You were right, that I was beautiful,
You were right, that my stubbornness was unmovable.
You were right, as I will always honor you,
You were right, I believe in you too.
Kate Copeland Jan 16
(1) Take good care of your legs.
(2) Always control your own bank account.
(3) Dress up like you go into a doctor's office
(She married a doctor by the way).
Ozioma Ogbaji Apr 2015
It is the sparkle in your eyes
Not the curve of your lips
That smile in your eyes
The smile that never lies

Charming, tender
I'll always remember
The first time you smiled at me.

Like magnet to metal
Your smile draws me in
You taught me how to smile
Your smile; I hope it never lies
The kind of smile that comes from deep within.
N Oct 2017
things people taught me:
that the love you have must come at the expense of people around you.
that once you give something, it's yours to take from them.
that being alone is the only safe place.
that being alone is a dangerous thing.
that to feel comfortable with someone you need to assert your dominance.
that you can never feel comfortable.
that marks and bruises mean you care.
that the marks and bruises not only show on my body but in my mind.
that no matter what the situation is my feelings are invalid.
that my bedroom is a safe and private place.
that nothing is really private.
that safety is just an illusion.
that happiness or sadness has more to do with sleep then choice.
that every conflict must be met with loud noises and anger.
that love consists of constant criticism and pain.
Lazhar Bouazzi Mar 2018
To the Goddess of morn
who made bread from fire
and taught me how to read
to read the wreaths of coffee
into the songs of dawn.

And to the Mason who
showed me how to hammer,
form out of chaos
and cherish the scent of
the cement on grey-green walls.

© LazharBouazzi
Richie Vincent May 2018
Before I knew that I could fall in love with another boy,
I had already had those feelings stolen out from underneath my feet

50 years old cold and old with a **** for blood,
and innocence,
At 16 years old there wasn’t even a whole lotta innocence left in him,
But he worked and moved in places that felt like dark alleyways,
and promises that seemed too good to be able to break,
The way his tongue slithered out from underneath the church pews,
looking to lap up whatever he seemed to have missed from his youth

I remember the first time I went to therapy,
the way that my therapist kept asking me if I was confused about my sexuality,
It shouldn’t have started like that

Wrinkly, angry, and full of adrenaline, young in the head and sick in his veins,
He liked to touch them,
He liked to hold them,
His eyes always matching theirs,
he made it perfectly clear that he’s not looking for a fight,
he’s already fighting,
and he knows he’s going to win

I’m not a religious person, but I believe the devil comes to all of us in different ways,
Sometimes beautiful and forgivable,
Other times in a black t shirt and a pair of nikes, disgustingly promising,
a place to make you feel comfortable

We let so many people use our bodies to prove their points, it’s so exhausting,
I can’t tell the difference anymore between wolves and sheep,
But I know that he’s a wolf,
And I know that no one listens to a boy who cries ****,
And the blood is always going to be there,
The alcoholic breaths taken deep into lungs that promise to carry on, are always going to be there,
The hatred and phobia of old men with mustaches and eyes that look just a little too inviting,
is always going to be there

Your Innocence is always going to be there, just don’t let anyone convince you that they can steal it from you

We are more than their torn muscles and “really, I’m a nice guy”s,
More than their “I’ve never done this before”s,
More than their “You don’t have to mention this to anyone”s,
More than what we think we deserve,
More than what love used to mean to us

We don’t have to love like that anymore,
Our bodies are new,
Not used anymore, but brand new,

We just have to teach our bones how to use the beautiful new skin that they’ve worked hard for

So to the man who taught me how to love myself,
You are nothing more than a distant memory I’ll continue to pack into the bag of luggage I carry and unload when I need to remind myself that I am more than whatever you made me think I was

I forgive you, but only because I forgive myself
Gods1son Nov 2018
I am from the African descent
It does still show in my accent
I was taught...in God only, I should depend
Even, if I'm thrown into the deep end
I guarantee you that I will always ascend

My mama raised me to live decent
Showed me to follow Godly precepts
Anything below excellent, she taught me to reject
Expressing love was a daily subject

She taught me to believe in my heart
To hone and master my craft
In all my dealings, to play my part
Whatever I give out (positive or negative) is surely coming back

She said, be up and doing... Don't be lazy
Productivity is not synonymous to being busy
Let them see your work ethic and call you crazy
Just in a matter of time, they will call you amazing

She taught me to be careful with my words
'cause they have a big influence on my worth
Never compromise honesty
'cause it's worth more than any currency

She said, your attitude is like a ladder
It could take you up or down
No matter what life throws at you,
You were born to be a success, so stand your ground!
Ken Pepiton Aug 2018
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this is rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohr,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.


----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?
Incorporating radical (root-related) definitions via cut and paste is my way of acknowledging that I have no ex-uses left for using words in a wrong, thus lying, way.
Anakaren Davila Jul 2018
I always wondered
who taught you how to love
was it the fierce full moon
while it lighted you through a blackout night?
or the night owl
who sweetly sang you lullabies?


it wasn't until I had you
At the darkest hour of the night
Howling under the moon
And saw your hazel eyes
So vulnerable, yet fearless
That I knew
it was the wild wolves
who gently taught you how to love
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2017
My soul would not be stilled
until You reached down
and taught my heart
to sing the song
it had been made for,
until I heard You
singing it over me,
drawing me and claiming me
for Your own.


A soul at rest
comes only from a heart
fully awakened
to its strongest desire,
from a heart that knows
it is greatly longed for
by the Object
of its greatest longing.

Surely there is nothing so powerful
against a deep and agonizing grief
as a great and passionate love.
~~~

"The LORD your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing."
~ Zephaniah 3:17

"The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying:
'I have loved you with an everlasting love;
    I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.'"
~ Jeremiah 31:3

"'Turn to Me and be saved,
    all you ends of the earth;
    for I am God, and there is no other.'"
~ Isaiah 45:22
ThePoet Nov 2015
There are no limits within a dream
Insanity at its most extreme
Imagination aged the child
It made me strong, it made me wild

I have ocean secrets growing deep
They're mine to ponder, mine to keep
Creativity taught and raised the kid
It gave me hopes in the places I hid

© Sarah Ahmed (ThePoet)
Luz Hanaii Jan 2014
Many think, I used to think this as well, that to be happy you must fill exalted and exited. When good things happen to us we naturally feel good and elated, it's a natural human response. Good things make us feel good and what we consider not good, make us feel bad.  A natural child and human response.

The sense of  happiness I'm describing here is not the mere result of a reaction to some happy event but is rather the state of being of our spirit, the acceptance that there will always be things that we have not control of, which we feel are bad and make us angry or sad.  True happiness in my estimation is being at peace, not letting our emotions, either good or bad determine our inner balance.

How many times those things I considered  bad, latter where the very things which help me learn and grow.  Experiences such as, illnesses, poverty, abuse, ignorance, depression, anxiety, fear... on and on, are nothing more than teachers, though we may see them as tormentors, when they first strike at us.

We are taught to live in this world using our five senses.  Therefore we estimate that happiness must be having good things and good feelings. We are thought to judge in order to survive in this world.  And that is fine up to a point, if we don't look before crossing the street, we take our chances at getting hit by a car.

We are taught that happiness is outside of us, we look for entertainment, material things,  and people to make us happy.  We look for support and words from others to value who we are, it is the normal thing a child does. It is the normal process of the primitive survival geared mind.

Some of us have not have the blessing of having parents that were happy within themselves, we've been verbally and physically abused, publicly ridiculed,  beaten, not validated/ignored, minimized and made to feel sick and disconnected etc... we've come from broken homes and broken people trying to raise us as best they knew how.  We are trying to heal and grow. We are all seeking to be happy.  We are all seeking support from an exterior world and from people, it's natural.  But as we mature and awake, we realize that no person, entertainment or thing can ever truly give you the happiness you need. We need to stop comparing ourselves with others or taking to heart their estimation of us. We need to revise and update the old programing in our minds given to us by our parents, school, the world. We have to learn to forgive others, love and accept our selves to find true happiness.  

I once heard a good example of what happiness is, which I had not considered.
Example below
*******
Look at your hand and observe how each finger is happy.  They don't ask for anything, they simply are.  Now if you were to hit one finger with a hammer the finger would stop being happy.  It would start to throb with pain and depending on the impact the pain would go away or stay longer.
True happiness is simply that, just being.

Revised @9/21/16
-Luz Hanaii
I revised this, for growth is not set in stone, my way of seeing things changes as I move on with time. There are different angles and ways to look at things. I understand that we don't all use the same eye prescriptions, my limited perceptions may not agree with yours.  Also that by me judging your way of observation as wrong, would only limit me and my growth.
English Jam May 2018
Drink to the woman who cared for others
Drink to the man who let her die in the gutter
Drink to those who think they have eternal youth
Drink to those who learn but don’t recognise truth
Drink to those who descend to the feet of Malkuth
Drink to those whose only wish is to hang from the roof
Drink to the liars whose only lie was that they were fine
Drink to the colours that dared to be vibrant and different from mine
Drink to the comedian whose pain is well nourished
Drink to the lover whose bruises have all flourished
Drink to the girl who doesn’t know what to believe
Drink to the guy who always feels like he has to leave
Drink to those who killed themselves to start anew
Drink to the crowd of many that thinks it’s a crowd of few
Drink to those who stand for themselves without any legs
Drink to the rich man who still stops and begs
Drink to those who worship God through death
Drink to those who don’t know they’re taking their final breath
Drink to the children who found guns way too early
Drink to the boy who was told he’s too girly
Drink to the saviour who taught peace and love
Drink to those who lived hatred to get above
Drink to the shadows who stayed carefully hidden
Drink to the people of whom the shadows were forbidden
Drink to the victims who were put into shame
Drink to the celebrities who forgot their own name
Drink to the singer who doesn’t know what the words mean
Drink to the speaker who tells stories of things he hasn’t seen
Drink to the majesties whose requests are over the top
Drink to the awkward kids who don’t know when to stop
Drink to the daydreamers lost in a drowse
Drink to the shimmering girl in a torn blouse
Drink to the society that discriminates anyone in its excess
Drink to the forgotten parade of losers, addicts and rejects
Drink to whoever sees love in the dark chapters of our books
Drink to those who are and aren’t obsessed with their looks
Drink to the new generation that abandoned its old pastiche
Drink to all who have and haven’t found their niche
Drink to the beach who had fresh scars each day
And drink to the ocean that washed the scars away

Drink, drink, drink, upon high
Raise your glass, raise your glass high

Cheers.
Ilion gray Aug 2018
The people
Are going anywhere
where they will wait,
Where the aluminum tops of pop
Bottles crash to earth
Releasing one last
Tiiiiinngg!!!((())))))
A kind of
Musical note...
A single sound through the corridors
Of order-
Watching the wind tease the trees/
Like the fastest boy
On the block,
Subtly walking
Over scattered grey
loose gravel
In the parking lot
Of the park,
Running his
Tiny ***** fingers,
Through
The other boys heads
Dusty and
Stagnant,
Filthy with earth and
Hours,
their
Blood black and  smoldering
Beneath a ceiling of skin,
Every pore
Like a window
Open
Waiting for the
One who knows,
To pass by,
All of them
Believing they
Were chosen.
"duck"
    "DUck"
              .........."DUCK
"GOOSE!!!­"

I watch the wind tease the leaves of trees-
Just this way,
At play,
Aloof
To the price of days,
Each one,
Their own.
Yet, both
The tree
And the child
Are Subtly dying,
Whilst also
climbing,
Closer to the
The sky,
Those ageless eyes
watch
their tiny fingers
stretched high
Reaching beneath
The ribs of wind,
the deepest end
Of the Seas of mid-heaven,
Into the sacred
Waves of secrets
everlasting,
Where
God taught his only
Son to swim.

I also watched,
as the wind teased
The trees that held the leaves-
Each decaying
As they rise
They bend forward like,
golden fields of days
Like sun-beaten blades of grass,
Their giant broken bodies
Like stones
So still,
That at times,
unfortunate seconds
Drifting past
Quietly,
wander
Too long
In the sadness,
Then crash
Violently,
In the silence.

If you ask some of the
people,
They will say
"We are going everywhere,
And yet we have found nothing-
Nothing/
While we wait-"

I have watched the wind tease
Everything,
All that I can hold in my eyes,
There
Where there is life everlasting-
Fingerprints,
Left after
the years wrapped it's hands
Around my neck squeezing
Till my skin began
To die and wither,
Like a brown trout
Tired, and weary
Floating way too
Close to the bank
As the edge of March,
Eat the last days of winter,
Now the evenings
Fall like ash,
Slowly arriving,
Hovering,
Softly
covering my shoulder.
The long night has just begun
Solemn and Subtle, sewn with
years
And hours
Of days that dripping
minutes
Never fill,
Arriving always
at the coldest hour
From the woods
That none
Can enter,
Lest you have reinforced your thoughts
With stolen rays of sunshine
Lest you have mapped
Constellations in the
Shattered glass  
From the broken
Windows of your eyes
Daisy Marrow Jun 2014
You lay in a field of flowers counting each bird that passes overhead.
You've erased concern and decided to live for the moment because you always would say, "we might be dead by tomorrow."
Flowers grew from your heart and bloomed across your lungs,
creating a garden that sang the most beautiful hymns,
while my garden was withering.
Each breath you took was never wasted,
but I couldn't help but count mine like they were birds passing overhead.
Every night you would view the stars and moon with pure amazement as if it was your first time seeing them.
You gave all your love to me and each kiss was coined in my pocket.
You fell in love with me every night and I fell for all your hymns.
Soon enough the world would pass us by but I wouldn't blink because I could live off your touch for the rest of my time.
You showed me there is more in life than just one color,
but instead, the world is a whole painting with colors that can't be described.
You showed me just how beautiful the world was.
You taught me how to grow beauty from my eyes but lately, I've been dreaming and falling for stars.
Imagining what it'd be like slow dancing with the planets, getting lost in constellations.
But I'm just not ready to go yet however I do not control time.
You showed me that dying can be beautiful.
That we'll be okay because when we leave we all become one with the earth and one with nature.
So love, love me until time runs out,
until I become one with nature.

And many years later as time starts to fly by and you slowly start to watch your clock tick down, you'll know where to find me, my love.
I'll be up with stars.
Somewhere lost in the cosmos.
I'll be spinning with the planets dreaming about what it would feel like to be able to walk on flowers again.
2014
Tony Tweedy Apr 1
One Turbot says to the other "do you believe in Cod?"
The other replies " I think we each know a Sole". "I believe one day when the chips are down and we are at our most battered we will each know a Plaice and we are destined to fillet".
They exchanged a glance and swam away.... just for the Halibut.

I hope my Whiting doesn't offend. Remember believers.... believe in Cod and one day you will be Prawn again.
edited 12th April 2019
Peter Balkus Sep 2018
She taught me
that after every Winter
there's a Spring.

She taught me
that angels never lose -
they always win.

She taught me
that **** is just an illusion -
it's love which is true.

She taught me
that one plus one is one,
not two.
Terry Collett Jan 14
My cousin showed me how to ride her bike;
a female racer with curved handlebars
and a narrow black saddle like a branch.

First she held me on to get my balance,
then released me as I made my way off
all around the block of flats where she lived.

She watched me ride fast around and around
full of triumph as I conquered my fears,
keeping my balance like one on high-wire,
a smile on my face, eyes full of fire.

The years now have gone past; I ride no more.

But still I think of my cousin back then,
she a teenager and I a young boy,
teaching me to ride on her racing bike,
that day, that month, those many years ago, riding quick, then quicker, but never slow.
A cousin teaching to ride
So that's the Kudu-Horn used on your Prize:
The Kind which no Mundial will ever blow
To pity their Ears; And Focus revise
But Senior Petrol in Love filled her Glow:
In turn flashed her Grin as a Cool Relief,
Humbled her Lady and recalled you Friend
Indeed, the Word so long etched in Belief
Was the Same Sharp Sound which caused Fans to spend
And did this Spike ever taught you to Boast
Though Genious the Temple Beggar reminds:
That Good Deeds Un-Posted are Noble Toast
But Kisses under the Fender are Fine.
I guess what's left to do this Summer's End
Is Toot that Horn; And Flames burn Flames again.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
veritas Jul 2018
gods and goddesses stilled mid-flight,
immortalized in a glory fast fading.
distilled sunlight filtering through, unheeded,
as a devastating dawn for redemption awakens.

     dust scattering over marble hands, forever supple,
as angels fall from grace,
wings clipped and torn asunder.

the sigh of a thousand lost souls, searching;
the thunder of a thousand chariots, unbridled.

     a wing outstretched, a bow pulled taught;
drawn, not fired.

frozen heroes lifting voices unheard;
     the calm before a storm, a fight unforeseen,
silver linings beckoning victories
of heaven's epics left unsung.

look up into the clouds and you'll see a history unwritten,
for they speak to you in murals
of smeared colors and pure light.

but hush! sweet child,
off you drift into an insincere sleep,
until these stories buried beneath your lips,
     singed, searing, burning away memories of the battles that
   linger ,over your tongue  ,
are no more than a shadow of a flame.

   and as his lashes flutter closed over blue eyes
   and his heavy golden curls fall on white sheets
   she whispers,
        the renaissance was not painted for you.
look up. and then higher than that.
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