DivulgeCrested mirrors dance.Divulge by PlethoraFantastique
Upheld reflections degrade.
Soundless colours speak.
The Word Count Is NoneYou once said you’d write a poem to my motherThe Word Count Is None by Rifle1980
About how much you loved her only son
But something seems to have changed in your heart of late
And now the word count has become none
I know I am not your knight in shining armour
In fact no armour could protect me
From all the nights I have spent sitting in the dark
With no moon to light up my misery
You once said you had dreamt of the two of us
Young lovers stood knee deep in a lake
But you chose to increase the depth of the water
Before I even had a chance to wake
Now I am drowning in the dreams of your sunset
As I can't get a handle on my blues
Still I offer you my shoulders to stand on
So you can breathe but of course you refuse
You once said that you were writing me a letter
And told me to read it with a smile
But I’m not sure if I can remember how to
Since it has been such a very long while
Still I begin to read it with a hopeful heart
And each swirl of your calligraphic scrawl
Forms a butterfly that takes flight from th
SpeechYou Litter the streets of my speechSpeech by xxdraxx
With commas and semi-colons,
You keep swimming through
My subconscious which explains
The fish hooks, which so gracefully
Attach themselves to the end of my sentences:
I love you?...I think I love?
See, ‘cause you keep bending
My perception of reality
To The point I could no longer
Exclaim ardent thoughts with the conviction
I once held with confidence.
Some nights, I want to wrap my quotation mark
Arms around ‘U’ so I can repeat these little bits of History
In unwritten sonnets that only the two us could decipher.
six words concerning self-esteema declawed cat can still bitesix words concerning self-esteem by WizardHowl10001
VisitorThere is a ghost doing handstands on my front lawn,Visitor by sliverofciel
wrist-deep in fresh soil. Her hands are birds
It's late, but no one comes to take her home.
The pale moon offers a silver smile -
the clouds disapprove.
Too tired to dream, she buries her legs in sky.
Tonight she is invincible, untouchable,
this frail girl beneath the stars
this death in light.
There is a ghost doing handstands on my front lawn,
falling to her white knees. Her stare is a pane
The eyes of the living are often murky but
the eyes of the gone
Stories about our fatherOur father is fourteen in this storyStories about our father by cowcreamer
so we must imagine him young and slim
bobbing on his toes, the quiver
of his racquet like the quiver
of a cat’s tail.
We’ve seen our father play before,
sitting courtside with our action figures
and paper dolls,
deadened to the minor explosions
of balls striking asphalt.
But we are surprised now by the
in his face, his eyes moving the tight loop
from court to net to opponent
and back again.
And it occurs to us
that we haven’t occurred to him.
Our father is pre-marital,
his world blazes between these
But soon we look where our father won’t:
To the stands where
our boy-faced uncles jeer
beside our grandmother, thin and erect
where we know her
soft and stooped.
She raises a hand to the metallic crest of
her hair and calls out,
David! What’s the score!
And it is understandable to us
that he pretends not hear.
That his shoulders twitc
Hey guys! Would you mind if I took a moment of your time to ask if you'd check out my new group, The-Exhibit? I created it a few days ago and it's quite different from anything that I've done before - and as far as I know and can tell, here on deviantART too - and I'd love to know what you all think of it! Please give it a quick glance!
<- You can find it right here, thank you!
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