Desert, her eyes are morsels to the jasmine and roses once grown from her wrists, between the flowers in each white finger, whilst the moon falls, leaves barefoot in winter, deserved for posturing an abyss this dance, like an atramentous sea; woman to the ebb and flow of flower bedded lips to firstborn… Read More bloom.
the blackest feather in the sky chokes delirium to the stars; our bodies glaze white under the willows, and water sat her mistress of spindrift wombs, the sun fed the death tree; give our bones the wispy velvet vein of our blood, becoming mother. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse prompt: “Show… Read More blackest feather.
Dancing in the night, you and I, And laughing in delight. You only recently became a Daydream but have always been here, Running beside me as I Escape the reality around me, And chase the dreams that Mock my deepest fears. Not my most brilliant piece of work, but hey, writing this poem inspired two… Read More “Daydream” by C. Wesley Tanner.
I’m fat, I’m big, I’m huge, I’m dark, I’m lean, I’m skinny, I’m subtle too, terms of comparison seems irrational Earth is diverse ranges in color, creed, ethnic, and race. We distinguish ourselves as an outcome of minute peculiar change. But end up Emphasizing condescension on all antonyms. Did you ever ponder the implication of… Read More “Episodes of Distress” by Kevin Davis.
With the clouds in front, it’s a filthy sky. With the sands flying by, it’s a dirty gust. With the drops filled unjust, it’s a muddy rain. But for the greens in pain, and the boys of vain, and the ones insane, it’s a lovely day. To check out more of adreamy1’s work, go here.
Story Once upon a time Is how stories usually begin Promising adventures In worlds unknown Even though it’s just paper Markings And ink It can take you across the world And back In time for dinner Pull out a flashlight For late at night Get hooked on the characters And love them And cry for… Read More “Story” by Elle Wilson.
I’m from Hannah MontanaThe Best of Both WorldsFrom singing at the top of my lungsWith comb for a mic I’m from the old neighborhoodThe sweet childhood memoriesFrom after school gamesAnd childish shenanigans I’m from Barbie DollsAnd kitchen setFrom operating on fake patientsWith my doctor’s set I’m from Taylor Swift songsThe cliched lines of love and… Read More “Where I’m from” by Anannya Choudhury.
I’m just going to push the boat out,spit some words and mess about.That’s what I love about writing,when you start out you have no idea what to talk about.Then words just appear out of thin air,with flare, with the power of a prayer. Single words can lead to warfareor they can take you from little… Read More “Independence” by Martin The Poet.
Your spiritDrawn across the skiesVeiled in silver laceBeyond secret shadowsOn darkened peaksWhose granite walls echoThe voices of my heartJoined in constant songAnd cascadeBreaking away impermanenceAs the only rhythms of the nightWashing across synapses branching. Watching the wheel of new crescentPulling away cirrus crystal mistsMy feet rest in the flames of the earthAdding scent to my… Read More “Thick Voices of Repose” by Brand.
A writer yearns to tell their story, any story,that will stand the test of timefull of hardships conqueredand inspire generations with hope. The story shall feel whimsical,not so much with fairies dancingbut that there is a happy ending. The story shall have brevity,not so much as a long weathered talebut one that details just enough.… Read More “A Story of Hope” by Kimberly Ray.
It was fine Living with a peace of comfort Each and every day with time Running out to please everyone In a nice cosmic yet real display Passions took a backseat while Dreams were lost in a world of Artificial love to their dismay Then an unexpected chain of events Told me to change myself… Read More “A Clock without time” by Vinisha Panwar.
No hero loves adventure, No hero enjoys the path. So I think I’ll sit content here, And let the path slip away. – Yes, I think this life suits me, It’s really quite endearing. Adventures are overrated, So let us just stay right here. – Here it’s nice and quiet, Here it’s (I’d say) fairly… Read More “Chapter 1 – Peace” by The Next Chapter.
— My foot on the path, My hand on the gate, My head in the clouds, My soul with the wind. – As the Golden Ray departs, Now this journey begins: The Next Chapter is here, And from here shall tell. – There are stories of war, And stories of heroes, Stories of cruel pain,… Read More “Prologue: Hope” By The Next Chapter.
Lay under this rock let us drown the Arcadia cold in exile of our minds. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Amber sunbeams stayed in my dreams; and I recalled whispers throughout our dark minds—autumn when our eyes met; The reverie of the cold entwines us in deferred reveries, in ambrosial shadows. The planet reaps Mosaic stars in backlit born reflections; we will plant a bowl of bluets by the fireside to recollect our love. ©… Read More Throughout our dark minds.
Frayed dreams, the pathway, Strangers and passengers, Abandoned by the wind’s blow, As we emerge from the lit sky, Traveling from our stone-kissed feet, And if you stood, I’d have not gleamed From the abyss, From the fern, soaked with blood, Shattered in the daylight, love; I hear footsteps evoke the brush, And the fields… Read More Frayed dreams (as one).
You are the best thing you’ll ever be… never change. Never change that.
Pennies and old skeletal-like lining threads slip out from the rafters of the grey old well in the mall—search in for the coin, fiddle with it, the dirt croaks under nails, like the bridal hem that touches the base of the floral steps, patterned by the picturesque; rib of man; “leave a stone at my… Read More A Night Walk. (Prose)
I. The moon casts its eye, In little carts, A vaudeville into the night. II. I wake in morning River flows down Crestmore, Wounded by a psalm, expelled alone. III. Down the old university, immersed, By the cathedral with petite western virgins flowers, On revered bungalows With an old torchlight, the ruins of Rome. IV.… Read More Vaudeville (I wake as rivers run).
As the rose adorns The mourning river secedes in Yorkshire skies. I give my love to the flower of pears, In velvet array on the vineyards, A vestige in a nightly soul Passed by a little eye of the moon Darker than winston smoke. The water does flow gently Onto a ballad of the dark… Read More As I Mourn a Flower.