[x]

28 By 12.5The wind is getting colder.

A convoluted mind
Filled with blissful
Reminders of
Being lost in a euphoric past
Now,
Plagued with the slick dark scars.

Once happy
A permanent aide memoire, currently
Hurt and told,
Being alone exists.

The leaves are falling.

Because the dancers in the street,
Can come inside
And woo
And challenge
And steal.

Instigated new life.

Tonight, the lost people who
Are the ejected, solitary lovers.
Who have not connected the red thread
With their soul mates
Cry out to feel.

Hot, burning milieu.

The skies stay brighter longer
And so do the bleeding hearts that
Are broken, forlorn and lost.

The cycle doesn&rsq

Modern Prometheus.I would climb a mountain
Of your choice,
Just to see your lips
Curl up and say hello,
To your oceans of wonderment.

If you so desired,
I would take flight from the cliffs,
A hawk, an eagle,
With clipped wings.

And I would fly, not towards the sky,
But down the mountain I would go,
And even once I've hit the ground,
(And I would hit it running)
I'd climb back up to that mountain's peak,
And do it all again.

I would be Prometheus
And the eagle,
For just a shred, an ounce,
Of your love and happiness.

remember me as a time of dayi.
"it's okay to think about leaving;
the earth doesn't deserve you.
count to infinity before you sleep &
don't stop 'til you know you're gone."

ii.
the man in the moon
preludes
the four things she thought about
before she jumped.

iii.
between you and me,
the world is only gonna break your heart.

In My Own AshesIn the long forgotten sands at the end of the Worlds
By the sea where the long forgotten souls swirled
Beneath the long forgotten sky of long forgotten memories,
I saw my own face, staring back and shimmering.

Standing in my own ashes, long forgotten but existing
No longer fighting and no longer resisting;
I've long forgotten every reason to be
Lost in this oh-so long forgotten memory.

Remember to forget and forget to have forgotten
All things lost, every little thing rotten,
Frozen somewhere between logic and belief
Lost somewhere outside happiness or grief.

Standing in my own ashes, though never knowing why
Never knowing how I lived, nev

Thinking of Youmy virginity was
sacred

the holiest of altars
with a hundred religions'
blessing

my father's gun
a sentiel
to a breathing temple

so i took it myself

a prayer so long
forgotten
& innocence taken by the
right hand of god

Summers Lost god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember.

"ask anything."

static skies;
grizzled blue
sketching down
to sewer lines:
like a wish
on a dead star.

the feeling of gritted teeth
and fingers crossed
until they break.

shame tasted
like a scalpel
and a brick wall
against my throat.

and i was
chewing concrete
when i said,
"it's okay."

swallowing cinder blocks;
stuffing steel under skin.

sugar-sweet
on my cheek,
like book pages:

"where have you been?"

My BelovedWhen the sun
hits your eyes in that way
The deep chocolate shines
A brilliant gold
And when you smile
With all your heart
They squint into little half-moons
And sparkle like a fox

Your lips are delicate
so soft against mine
The only tie I have
to express all these unspoken things
They whisper "I love you"
But it is so much more
So many things I never said
Best not to say now

Thank you for those times
Where you were everything to me
My morning, my sunshine, my heart
The thing that made living worth it
And reminding me
How good love really feels
You were the only one
Who really made me feel whole

Why did it have to be th

Haiku IIIwhite cherry blossoms
melt on frosted window panes -
harbinger of Spring

Sanctity.A pilgrim at
the half remembered ruins,
sunset wiring
starspun and
burning low --
alive, somehow,
at the night's watch.

Aside a Grovecome aside with me,
a grove near a bay
where aqua kisses land
puts all fear to bay

take a stroll with me,
beneath darkened sky
stars shining bright
every exhale a sigh...

and we'll be happy then
on one peaceful day
when the buzzing in brain
to bed where it lay

and may
may be
we can find serenity
in a whisper

give you my hands,
give you my tongue
give you all that I was
and all that I am

sound of an ocean
in one ear
and out
for a moment...

welcome peace now, please welcome
anything but anything
only for a while
a short moment
some smiles...

in a grove
near a bay
with love
where we lay

electric skeletonsI danced with a ghost
at the prom. I built
a shrine out of paper
and ink, and used
lithium-ion batteries.
the ghosts line my
window-sill. breathe:
take a long drag of
winter air, a prayer
in your lungs, and the
blood on the bathroom
floor is a human
sacrifice. and
somewhere
far away
a god would cry

if only she knew.

remember thisgemini, i've found it -
the missing weight from my every
valley, that was pulled from me while i was
unborn. "abducted," i'll say,
travelling back through spirit-lands
to watch our beginning, to witness
our once-upon-a-whole.

i've fallen into lightless quiet.
as i begin to breathe, i feel a pressure
released from my ears
and i can hear a cadence of
concurrent blooms. a gentle buzz
hums along, carried by the scent
of begging blossoms' celestial seed, and i
dare to look; removing one finger, then two,
then ten from my prying eyes
to see us there.

we are feathered and flowered.
our thorny bird-bones have no gaps
and our mahogany-skin is unblem

GeminiOh, how her words like silent whispers
Tell a story to my soul.
Little red! Little red! Could she be the other half
To my broken puzzled whole?
Sweet Gemini, how she has taken stage
On the heart that is a show.
Let this Libra take thy heart and
Fix all the woe.
Please take this poetic confession as
I have been shot by a Cupid dart.
For this devil needs a savior
For a lonely silent heart.
Like a butterfly,
My ribcage flutters when she speaks.
And I apparently invade her dreams.
Dreams as she sleeps.
Madam, more beautiful than Aphrodite,
Take me.
Take me as I inquire,
For I wish for you to be,
My valentine.

Whispers of another lifeby dolan grey

Your dress is a ball gown,
an upside-down rose petal;
those inverted flowers
make half of my garden:
I'll make you a bouquet
of dark red, and lavender;
a dress for warm evenings,
our hot nights.

Eyes like watered wine,
refined, and intoxicating;
decanted, measured,
inviting and poisonous:
You've corrupted me, dear,
but slowly, carefully;
hazel depths, inviting,
deep amber alcohol.

A thousand grains of sand,
gritty and gravelly, imperfect;
nothing feels farther from
your skin touching mine:
Velvet and silk and corduroy,
these things of delicacy;
every inch of you, satin smooth,
elegant suede and swan feathers.

La

the city of AtlantisIt's 3:45 in the morning
and I find the world
half-asleep
underneath the ocean.

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How the World TurnsI can't not use you
I can't not manipulate
I can't not get my way
I can't not

I must own you
I must have your eyes
Your adoration constantly set on me
I am your god

And when I leave, you're nothing
So don't love me unless I want you to
Don't leave me unless I say
And always do what I say

People are like property
They can be given and taken away
You have to pay on upkeep
But I'm not that way

You pay for me, while I own you
You are my perfect little toy
I'll love you if it's in my best interests
So it's your job to make it so

I use you.
You love me
I get my way
And we're both happy

My Warped WonderlandRunning through the trees,
branches barren without leaves.
The winter chill struck straight to the bone,
and dismal clouds kept the future unknown.

All she knew laid behind her,
and the present was just a passing blur.
The forest reached out to claim her
blood-coloured dress and mud-coloured hair

Crystal tears froze to her face
while streaming from unseeing eyes.
With nowhere to go and no one to see,
the ground fell away from her staggering feet.

She was falling, and the cold left her soul,
leaving a strange void where it last had been.
Tumbling down this strange rabbit hole,
she couldn't tell if she was falling up or down.

And as she tho

Death WalkerSome mystery child
Wandering through dark forests.
Child of the Raven.

Beseeching Warrior's PrayerMy warriors wither under this woesome disease
Enough bodies to build a city lay at my feet
And still these cursed Catholics have kept the Keep
They neither fall from famine or fever behind the walls
Allah, abandon these apostates into my hand
Rain calamity upon Caffa's Christians
Give me the tools to tear out these ruinous ones
Has heaven handed over the holy ones to these devils?
For my men are morose and ill
Daily, dozens die as boils bubbled under their skins
Painful pouches of pus pooling under their arms
Black blotches bespeckle their bodies
And they cough up clots from their breasts
A curse, they cry, coming from above
Gracious God of power and vengeance
Forsake me not Father, for I fight for you
All I ask is a means to uproot these rebels
But all I hold are carts of corpses

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Submitted: February 8
Submitted with: Sta.sh Writer

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The Rusalka

by ~red-stained-december, Feb 8, 2013, 8:10:10 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

One summer night in early June

She stepped out from the water's depth

A forbidden beauty in light of the moon

Temptress who roosts among the trees

She sings the songs of lovers' bliss

And the warmth of family and home

And how it's all the things she missed

Singing in tune to the bubbling creek.

Beware the summer siren and her golden hair

Ignorant fools, steer clear of her wiles and wares

The naked beauty of perfection dancing among the trees

Death's beautiful bride-to-be

The weary traveller was tired and worn

His body stiff and sore, he stopped to rest

The sun had set as he stooped to drink

A shadow then caught his eye

In awe he looked up to the gorgeous nymph

Her beauty beyond compare

Her eyes, her skin, her naked breasts

She coyly motioned him nearer

Just out of reach, he leaned to the edge

The water lapping at his finger tips

Arms wrapped about his head, lips grazing his

Closer, closer, he pressed forth

And then he fell in

Down to the bottom she'll drag your soul

Be you men of young or old

This naked beauty of obscene perfection

Taken long before her time

How lonely is she in the river's depths

Join her in singing Death's lullaby

The Rusalkaby ~red-stained-december

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

This is for

's Scratch That poetry contest (of course), and I am as amazed as you are that I am still in this thing. That last poem was for shit. This one I like a bit better. Another Ballad with the theme being Fantasy. If you must know, I'm not that great at fantasy, because my mind leaps to things like Eragon and Legend of Zelda. Like, completely original worlds of fantasy and wonder where anything is possible (more or less), but I also came up with fantasy can also equal mythology. Being the idiot I am, I wanted to do it on a mythology that was a bit more obscure.

I mean, we all know Geek, Roman, and Norse, which more or less make up the basis of every other mythology of related countries, like apparently Germanic myths incorporate Thor. Yeah, he has a different name, but seriously . . . it's Thor. I decided to do the less looked-at myths of the Slavs, mainly Belarus, Russia, and Ukraine. Hence: the Rusalka. Pretty much think evil mermaids, but they have legs and can walk on land. Rusalka Week takes place in early June and corresponds with Semik. Google it. There is also a Czech opera called Rusalka But it's all but exactly the original Little Mermaid story, saved that instead of turning into sea foam, she turned into a water spirit of death (which more or less what Rusalki already are . . . I won't question it) and in the end the prince kisses her to commit suicide. I don't know, I REALLY like Slavic mythology. I mean, women in most European myths are all the same: Cinderella. Where she does very little, or nothing, to have her happy ending. In Slavic myth, women are cruel, conniving, selfish, manipulative, etc. They are PEOPLE. And these things aren't always bad, like in the Frog Princess. But that's off topic.

Please enjoy my work that waited until the absolute last moment to talk to me, as well as my mindless ramblings. Fingers crossed I move on. >3<

~LilMijou Feb 10, 2013 Student General Artist

I do wish you the very best because it was a very intriguing story.

~red-stained-december Feb 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you greatly.

~Michel-le-fou Feb 8, 2013

Thiscwas a truly worthy read and had good length and development. Best of luck with the book.

~red-stained-december Feb 8, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

*bows* Thank you.

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