Aug 15

The Door Creaks

The door creaks on its own,
a breath to push it closed.
A whisper through the phone,
much like yours I suppose,
tells me of horrors far beyond,
the world we want to see,
and those horrors reside deep,
inside of the mind,

Aug 15
LukeTheDuke's picture

All the ideas are all Taken

All the ideas are all taken
And I do not know what I should write
Being one inch tall, a giant awakens?
or maybe the power of flight

No its been done; I've seen it before! To
steal their ideas would be theft
And i'm sitting here, with an empty page!
But there simply are no ideas left!

You see Hollywood knows what it's doing
Reboot an old film or just make a sequel
And if that don't work
cause you need some green
Who's to stop you from making a prequel?

But I don't want to do that
I want to be new! To make something fresh and exciting.
And if I was born,
a hundred years in the past,
I'd have so many ideas for my writing!

Then my six year old bro said
wouldn't it be cool, of a story of an outer space hen?
And I looked at my page, starting writing things down
Realizing what a big fool I had been
Aug 14

Regret Weighs Heavy in a Pocket

Midas’s greedy eyes
wished for gold.
They settles on a blank canvas
and wished for glittering gold.
He wished so badly
to drip with finery,
drenched to the hollow bone.

When he finally got it,
his touch spread the riches
as if it were a disease,
some beautifully cruel virus.
he overlooked his losses,
discarded the original value
to revel in his newfound fortune.

In the end,
he sat alone
atop his gold throne,
cursed to be a solitaire king.
He drowned in his greed
and he suffered.

I think I made a wrong wish
too many times,
for my name has fallen from your lips
and I sit alone in bed
waiting to reach out
and touch
one last time.
Aug 14
iski23's picture

A song of spring

On Gull Pond I look out and see a mama duck and ducklings
I decide to name them Sam, Suzy, Hudson, etc
Everyday they would go by bigger and bigger
First baby feathers, then sleek glossy feathers, till one day thick shiny adult feathers
As they enter the reeds they peck away at the leaves
Chirping the songs of Spring
Aug 14

Voices of the Shadows

I can hear the choir,
crying in the night,
shouting inaudibly,
barely kept in harmony.
And though their voices ring,
like chiming bells,
and their shrieks,
shatter my heart,
I cover my ears,
and duck my head,
for the raven squawks,
high in the forked tree.
I mustn't listen.
I mustn't see.
I mustn't hear,
the song of Thana,
for I am afraid.
The shadows which,
beseech me to follow,
are but a trick of the light.
I have lost my mind,
yet my soul is intact,
and they have come,
to rip it from me.

O, I have fathomed my grave!
My mind is buried,
and my bones ache.

Come sweet,
come bitter.
Come warm,
come cold.
Come cheery,
come weary.

Take me away!
Aug 14

Wild Blackberries for Early August

There were thorns involved
and so with careful fingers 
the firm, deep purple berries
were pulled off stalks,
held in palms,
and eaten.

It reminded her of birds 
when they delicately land
on thorn bushes.
Tiny toes splayed,
balancing the sharp mountains
in between skin.

Blackberry picking was a slow, methodical process, one that could last hours
if let alone.  

And she was alone;
reaching with night-stained fingers, 
for another jewel 
draping towards the ground,
adding it to the collection of savored
things from summer afternoons.

Cool ponds,
tiny caterpillars,
dirty calloused feet. 

They were simple and achievable 
and are the things she remembers 
20 years from now. 

Blackberry picking 
in early August. 

Aug 14

Manifesto of the Muse

(Response to the challenge Titles: Create a poem using only the titles of books near you. Write it in seven minutes.)



The Mouse with the Question Mark Tail
The Cucumber King
The Lost Track of Time
The Running Dream.

Under the Egg,


counting by 7s,
Mary Oliver’s Devotions

Aug 14
poem 0 comments challenge: General
Lynnez's picture

The Fallen

“Hate is such a strong word,"
No wonder Hate makes me weak,
Lying down I watch my belly sink into nothingness,
It's a cavity that has gotten worse over the years,
The erosion of my energy and eating away of my sanity. .
There are cliffs between my rib cage, I fell between,
 When I stepped onto that unsteady scale,
An ever-lasting reflection in my mind’s eye,
Of this thing that will never be enough!
How could I have fallen?
There is more than plenty to hold onto!
The Hate on my hips,
Hate on my thighs,
Hate on my stomach,
I’m so tired of this weight,
The strain leaves stains of insecurities under my eyes,
Desperately I clutch onto this brittle rock,
Don’t let go, don’t let go, just a little less or a little more,

I must beat Hate to the top.

Aug 14
poem 2 comments challenge: General
Lynnez's picture

Day Dreaming

Aug 13
poem 0 comments challenge: Rules


Of course I can't miss class because my friend is crying! No, studies are important, nothing more.

My skirt must be to my knees. I understand, I should cover up. It might be ninety degrees, but, so what?

Gum is banned! No wonder! It's threatening to other students, but lighters and switchblades are okay, even if no one knows.

I can't cheat on tests, but girls can bring their Juuls on school trips, cigarettes hidden in their bras. 

It's all obscene, isn't it?
Aug 13

rain from the perspective of a five year old

Today it rained again,
For the third time this week.
"Isn't it strange that it's been raining a lot?" my mom asks.
I don't respond.
I watch the rain hit the window,
Drops coalescing and rolling down so effortlessly.
I would go outside and stand away from the trees,
Letting it mess up my already unkempt hair
But it’s salty.
It stings my skin a little.
So I watch as it fills up the bucket I’ve left outside yesterday.
Soon it’s overflowing as the rain comes down stronger
Beating on the grass, weeds, flowers, shrubs
Sweeping away the debris into the sewers.
Water gushes out over the brim of the bucket on all sides
In a way, it’s cathartic. Some hate the rain, but I would rather wait.
"Take your time," I say. We're only separated by a pane of glass.
I look out as high as I can,
Past the tall trees in the distance towards the clouds, sitting in their usual spots.
Aug 13
poem 0 comments challenge: Titles

My Mother's Bookshelf

Little Stranger,
In the Heart of the Sea.

The Jungle,
The Wayward Bus,
The Timekeeper.

The Orchardist,
Great Expectations,
City of Light.

Hard Times,
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

This Side of Paradise,
Girl with a Pearl Earring,
A Great and Terrible Beauty.

The Pilot's Wife,
The Miniaturist,
The Old Curiosity Shop.

Magnolia City,
East of Eden,
Gatsby's Girl.
Aug 13
poem 2 comments challenge: Woods
iski23's picture

Problems in the west wind

When you walk in to the forest just listen
Trees are whisperers
A sweet maple coos to a sapling
"It's okay it'll be okay"
The little ash sapling speaks thoroughly and calmly
"How much more time do I have the bug will peel off my bark and then where will I go?"
A gruff old pine the towns grump harshly speaks back
"You listen to me not long. The west wind blows problems."
 The maple speaks once more
"All problems have solutions you know."
Aug 12


Minutes ago,
I saw
flashes of light
falling across the sky.

As I watched,
more stars 
appeared in
that sky.

The red and blue
were planes.

I watched
with my sisters
as more

I can hardly
describe what
I was


I don't know.

The stars hold my answer,
and they will not tell it.
Aug 12

All-American Dinner

Surrounded by family,
that's the best thing, isn't it?

As I place the mountain
of corn-on-the-cob in front of everyone,
Dad starts to serve the venison
he'd marinated and then grilled.

I made mashed potatoes, too
and worried I hadn't made enough.

I was reassured that I,
in fact, did.

Rolling the corn in butter,
we burnt our hands.
Sipping from cups,
we cooled our throats with milk.

We tossed the finished cobs onto
a spare plate
as we reached
for seconds.

There was no more steak,
but Mom had had a filet mignon.

Dad and I were thanked when dinner
was over,
putting our plates and forks and spoons
in the dishwasher.

Then I went for a ride.
I had gone about seven miles
when Mom caught up to me.
We rode together for a while.

I could feel myself burning the calories off

Aug 10

Little Love

She put daisies in her hair,
little things,
that made her beauty,
even more beautiful.
Her chocolate eyes that,
with love,
swirled and shined,
gave my life a light.
Hands full of fresh flowers,
held tightly,
in those tiny hands,
that held my heart.
And that stolen little heart,
beating alive,
that she held softly,
broke apart over,
and over,
when it no longer felt,
those careful,
Aug 10

when a storm breaks

I can't even see it.
I can't even see
the end to this emptiness.
Deep, deep.
It pulses.
It feels
as though nobody is here.
Nobody cares.
Nobody is listening.

It shows like a thundercloud
swirling within my eyes.
Flashing like lightning.
Dark clouds getting darker.
Thunder getting louder.
All sounds from around
somewhere in my mind.

I can't feel
I can't hold on
to keep from falling
like the other times.

This time I have fallen.

As thunder booms,
my fists clench.
My words lash out sharply
like bursts of lightning.
in sudden bursts.

But within,
beneath the swirling typhoon,
there is just one thing I am pleading.


Help me.

But when I can't see the light at the end,
Aug 10

The Sky I See Everyday

The sky I see
looks so familiar
to everyone that
sees it.

It's because it's the same sky
same trees
same sunset
same everything.

There's no difference in the colors.
No difference in the leaves.
But somehow
it changes.

It changes when the grapes grow on the vines,
when the blueberries ripen,
when the monarchs come,
and lay their eggs.

It changes when the snow falls,
when the leaves fall,
when my dog leaps for mosquitos
biting her hide.

It always changes, this sky I see everyday.
Aug 10


Who could defend us,
when we were hanged,
burned at the stake,
and shunned by those,
who believed that we,
the people who walk,
amongst ourselves,
singing "Blessed Be!"
were sipping from,
the devil's hand?
Who would believe,
that many women,
and many children,
old and oh so young,
were taken away by those,
who could only believe,
in one god,
and only one?
And who would think,
that after many years,
the days when we,
those who sing "Blessed Be!"
and who walk,
the same rythm,
but in a different tune,
were hushed,
and denounced,
by people afraid of something,
that has been misunderstood,
for hundreds of years,
is not yet over?
The Goddess smiles,
in the form of the pearlescent moon,
and I shall too.
Aug 10

The rotted woman I saw in my dream

Her body jerked in sudden,
Her hair was dark and long,
The eyes of someone lost,
glared with their hard white,
Her dress was shredded,
and the scent of a corpse,
bled into her deadly aura.
A once so delightful grin,