[x]

I love you.I am not myself these days;
I find myself, more and more,
in the fog of window panes and the
cold, misty morning air.

I am not myself these days;
I lose myself, more and more,
in the way light catches off
certain clouds of sunset: prisms.

What is different?
I love walks in the park,
clichéd as that may be,
and I enjoy the taste of the rain.

What else is different?
I am not willing, try as I might,
to accept or acknowledge that
the sins of my ancestors reflect in me.

Of course, this is all since I met you.

I wish, sometimes,
to feel less like a piano,
and more like a harpsichord that
only you know how t

lower_casei have not read enough poetry
and i am not one to muse
or maybe think
but i do have
a question
i am one student in a freshman course
who wonders
why so many poets use only
lower case

is it artistic
is it sexy
to write as if
you do nothing but whisper

i want to be loud
i want
the survivors of death
to remember me

i will not mutter
like a fetus
trapped
undeveloped

perhaps there is
nothing to this
technicality

but there is value
in knowing how to yell
and in absolute
silence.

i can make you love mewriters,
what thoughts
do you bend in
these cathedral-ribs
shaking with leaves?
(self-conscious,
headache)

shopping neon
for
a sinner's devotion
or that boy
in the other aisle

(i hold your books
and stroke the pages,
suddenly frightened)

'excuse me'
they haven't arrived:
(that was forty-five
minutes ago)

blushing and
hoping no one notices
that i've read this
before
as i watch him
slip behind the counter

(i devised a plan to
volunteer on fridays
and trap him)

as i read
sentence three
for the fifteenth
time

a past that never existed.did you ever look
at everything and realize
how small it all is.

Your Crazy Is Showing!An intake of air
A horrified stare

Your secret is out
And causing them doubt

You've flashed the whole world
Maniac unfurled

MirrorsWomen are like mirrors
they complain
they nag
they get angry
they cheat
they brag
they hurt
they love
they please
they dissatisfy
they are adored
and looked down upon.
No one realizes their worth
until they use one for their own devices.
Their worth
is your desire.
Their worth
is their own power.

The ScareA bright flash wakes me
A distant clash follows
'What was that?
'What's happening?!'
Finicky thoughts race by

Another glaring flash
This time, mere feet away
Followed by a louder crash
Like projectiles from the sky
Startling me

Shuddering
I cower
Crouching lower
I crawl
Like a leopard
Inching my way

Towards the bed

Shivers overwhelm me
In separate waves of panic

More flashes
More crashes

I try to ease my breathing
To push deep
Breath slow

My heartbeat quickens instead

Shallow pants
More rapid shivers
In quick succession

An assuring hand settles
Running along my back
Down to my belly
Drawing careless circles
Tea

Six Word StoryBecome your friend?
I'd rather not.

Burned fieldsLove at first sight
watching red sunset
in the sky so bright,
laying in green grass
on a soft field in the
hills not that tall.

Words of love softly spoken
and a gentle wind passes
around the pair so beautiful,
a rose given to her
with a simple warm hug
rewarded by her kiss.

And from the beyond the sky
came lights which were not stars
and planets or not even the Sun,
they fell quickly to the ground
destroying the city so nearby
and defeaning the calmness around.

Where have all the green fields go
and what do all these ruins represent
if not the hour so dark,
two skeletons in an embracing hug
with a flower between them
still sharing a kiss,

opposites and empty vowsThe trouble with the two of us is this:
my heart curls like a fist
and I chant hallelujah
like a stranded rebel
with cold coffee
sinking beneath my eyes

and you are filled
with the airy traces
of cigarettes
clogging deep in your lungs,
waiting for that shot of vodka
to burn in your stomach,
morning greetings
with a thumping inside
your skull.

And we are empty...

We have nothing to give
and our words have
long been forgotten
by the bones of the angels
patiently sitting at the altar-
staring at faded sunlight,
glowing mosaic windows
loosing the religion
that had marked their existence...

Like us.
Like our vows-
poetry written
with hotel

AudioWhen there is silence, the world becomes still.
When there aren't voices, it creates a chill.
When sound is gone, society goes mad.
Without noise, it all turns sad.

But with audio, your ears can die.
With music people will cry.
Even with melodies, not everything's well.
But when there's harmony, you can't really tell.

untitledIsn't it scary
knowing
that right now
I could kill myself?

There's a knife rack upstairs:
in a matter of seconds
there could be bloodstains on the carpet
and my dying corpse on the ground

There's an oven:
if I turn it on high enough
and crawl in.....

There are pills in the medicine cabinet:
a slow painless death
in my sleep

There's a bath upstairs:
I could drown myself and
slowly lose consciousness

There are garbage bags in the cabinet:
I could suffocate myself
and be dead in seconds

Just knowing
that I could end my life
right now
if I wanted to
It's scary

Exploring EmotionIt was like falling in love with every person I ever met. A scorching, blistering pain- yet a gentle, loving caress. Pushed back and enclosed in cotton- a gentle, but fierce embrace. A pause of silence, and all the knowledge of the world at your fingertips. Knowing nothing yet achieving everything. Charging forward to never stop, never cease. Frozen in darkness, never to escape- paused in hallucination.

DiagnosisHey, so, I'm writing this down. I'm sick and I'm writing, so that should be fun. But aren't I always sick—always subtracted from someone or something else? The structure I've salvaged within me tonight might not hold out for long. Let me begin.

I told the doctor I hadn't gotten any sleep. We were standing outside her classroom and she just looked me straight in the eye and asked,

"Has anybody?"

and for a split second I felt smaller than I am.

The doctor once told me a theory exists that questions whether our souls could survive in a vacuum. She said that all we truly have is a single charcoal portrait, and no one knows what the artist loo

Deviation removed due to controversial materialPerfect, flawless, beautiful. Practice makes perfect. But nothing in the world is perfect. So why bother practice?

Teenagers. Develop a crush and that's exactly what happens – get crushed. Then comes the MOPING and the incessant CRYING. And yet, teenagers are told to act their age. Which is exactly what we're doing.

So don't write poems about "love" if you're still a teenager. Love is an adult emotion and it is something teenagers do not yet understand because we're still developing. You're deluding yourself and setting yourself up for unnecessary pain.

The door knocks. I answer it.
"You will go to Hell if you don't believe in my rel

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Painted GirlsThe last time I was in Washington DC, there was about six inches of snow on the ground. It was still snowing when I flew out, which did make taking off in the plane a tad shaky. For anyone who's ever lived in Washington DC, you'd know that snow isn't a frequent visitor. Often times it doesn't get cold enough for the precipitation to turn into snow.

This was three months ago. I returned to a warm spring day, with a partly cloudy sky. Everyone had already packed and stowed away their winter clothes, no longer going needing their thick coats and windbreakers. The outfits people were wearing got more colorful and less bland. Flowers were just s

SmileRain clouds were sweeping in
As the sun set behind us.
You were behind me as I
Opened the door and let us inside.
You smiled, your beautiful smile,
I could never forget it.

A month later, I saw you again
Only in a dream, but it was a good dream.
Not much happened beyond a chess match
But your smile was just as bright.
I awoke in the morning, you on my mind
Wishing that I'd see that smile for real.

A month ago, that wish came true
But at a price I didn't want to pay.
You smiled that smile for another
I was lucky to have caught a glimpse.
Your smile was also powerful
Strong enough to break my heart.

If I dreamt about you tonig

CrunchesShe sits under a large tree
by the lake
near the dock
where all the kids
jump into the water.

Some book in her hands,
she kicks off her sandals
letting her blonde hair
dance with the wind
as she reads.

Few speak to her.
Some don't have the guts,
others simply fail
to steal her interest
from the book in her hands.

One day I will swipe her eyes;
I will be the one to learn her name.

Water RipplesThe air was getting warm again. Spring was coming through the door. After a cold and unforgiving winter, it felt good to actually feel like the sun was warming your skin.

Edward stood on the walking bridge across Cherry Hill Lake. It was a peaceful view to say the least. Edward's eyes were glaring into the waters, watching them ripple. He was having one of those moments when you find yourself expecting to find the meaning of life present itself in the water's ripples. But there was nothing. He only saw his own reflection staring back at him.

In time, another person came and stood next to him. It was Drew. Edward didn't greet him; he waite

The Cocktail WaitressThey dress to make me fall in love
with their short skirts and long legs.
A walk of elegance
drawing my eyes all over
their svelte bodies.
There is hope
that maybe I am lonely enough
to give a higher tip
thinking that I may earn her approval;
that an extra dollar
might win her heart.
There could be hope
that it is not fake.
Her smile is genuine
and that the correlating thoughts
are shared between us.
But I know
the truth.
I am not special to her,
and the feelings she has for me
go out to every other patron as well.

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by ~Sparr0ww, Jan 30, 2013, 7:16:40 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Haiku & Eastern

Can't smell the roses;
they do not grow well indoors.
I'm going insane.

Boxby ~Sparr0ww

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Haiku & Eastern

Well, you know.

=slowslicksnails Jan 31, 2013 Student Writer

This is an amazing haiku!

~Sparr0ww Jan 31, 2013 Student Writer

Thank you!

=slowslicksnails Jan 31, 2013 Student Writer

You're welcome!

*4sauce4 Jan 30, 2013 Student Writer

Nice!

~Sparr0ww Jan 30, 2013 Student Writer

~Suphyx Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I love it.

~Sparr0ww Jan 30, 2013 Student Writer

Thank you!

~Suphyx Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

You're welcome.

~Artemis-F-Fox Jan 30, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

This makes my insides flutter.

~Sparr0ww Jan 30, 2013 Student Writer

Really? How so?

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