Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

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Weekly Poetry Stuffage > Week 300! (February 22-29). Poems. Topic: ?

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message 1: by C.P., Windrunner (new)

C.P. Cabaniss (cpcabaniss) | 637 comments Beautiful poem, Al!


message 2: by Raven (last edited Feb 22, 2016 12:19PM) (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Umm...I'm kind of new to this, but anyway my friend said I should enter this poem I wrote recently here....so might as well. It doesn't rhyme, hope that's okay.

Morning Glow by Raven/Reibun


A solitary ray of sunshine pours through the window,

illuminating my desire, breaking the seams of the dream.

I am reminded of the emptiness inside my fragile heart.

I was once a tower of strength, an endless stream of will, both flexible and firm.

Now I am a delicate flower, in a new world that is not my own.

The night brings security and peace.

But once the hot sun rises and the shines through the windows,

I am met with only emptiness and uncertainty.

I pretend to have a goal, like a brightly colored bird with it's head buried in the golden grains of sand.

I trap the pain inside, though I know I'm not really hiding my variously similar array of pure emotions.

Perceptive are the souls that surround my lively vortex.

I cannot hide what I am thinking.

Those who know me see through me as clearly as glass.

Glass breaks easy, and eventually turns to sand.

The grains of my mind, my emotions, cling to me as such.

If I am a beach, then he is my ocean.

The sand can't travel like the waves.

The waves like the dream are endlessly flowing, dangerous and unruly.

No, gentle and kind, just boisterous.

As the rays gather and grow brighter, creating a vortex of light and pain, I know I must awake.

I rise and force the glass smile I am used to on my plastic face.

Then I leave the room and with it the remnants and memories.

I leave behind the dream.


message 3: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Raven wrote: "Umm...I'm kind of new to this, but anyway my friend said I should enter this poem I wrote recently here....so might as well. It doesn't rhyme, hope that's okay.

A solitary ray of sunshine pours t..."


Oh okay, sure. Thanks. :D


message 4: by Gashbeen (new)

Gashbeen | 167 comments Locked Within A Cage

By Gashbeen Saeed

Like a bird in a cage,
I sing to hide the pain.
Caged by my emotions,
There is nothing to gain.


message 5: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Gashbeen wrote: "Locked Within A Cage

By Gashbeen Saeed

Like a bird in a cage,
I sing to hide the pain.
Caged by my emotions,
There is nothing to gain."


Ooooh I like that! <3


message 6: by Gashbeen (new)

Gashbeen | 167 comments Thanks, Raven!


message 7: by Gashbeen (new)

Gashbeen | 167 comments I really like your poem, Raven. It's pretty good. Keep up the good work!


message 8: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments This was originally chapter eleven in my upcoming novel “Mutant Toe & The Risky Recruitment”, but I scrapped the idea, thinking it too odd. To give it some context, the characters find themselves in an area controlled by rhyme, and everything happens to them in verse. It’s long, but I hope at least some of you have the patience to read it.

Title : Unnatural Selection
Poet : Edward Davies

Dave awoke and rubbed his eyes
And found to his utter surprise
He was not where he recollected
He had been in hours past.

He noticed Pete was also there
Lying asleep, quite unaware
That they had all just been subjected
To kidnapping unsurpassed.

Mr Greenfield groaned and grunted
Standing, looking weak and stunted
Obviously God had elected
Him to be the first to rise

He muttered, "Oh, my head is spinning!"
Then the room filled up with women!
By armour they were protected;
That just increased Dave's surprise.

The women; four of them in all
Stood over our three heroes, tall
And more endowed than any normal
Person could have even dreamed.

Pete awoke to this display
He blinked and panicked in dismay
And with no wish to seem informal
Opened up his lungs and screamed.

Dave began to think this through
Trying to think what he should do
So that he, Pete and Mr Greenfield
Might escape from this intact.

He thought perhaps a confrontation
With them might give some fruition
But they beat his face, he squealed
And then, his jaw, it swiftly cracked.

At this point Mr Greenfield drew
Himself up to his fullest height
He didn't know what he could do
And the women laughed at the sight

Of such an old decrepit man
Trying to look intimidating
When he weighed less than marzipan
And that was when their eyes with hating

Burned their way into his soul
And deep inside they made their home.
So easily they filled the hole
That was the heart of poor Jerome.

Now only Pete was left for these four
Women to contend with over;
Dave was wounded on the floor
And Mr G was in a coma!

Poor Pete left with no protection
And no real escape in sight
Although he did have superpowers
Centred round his appetite

He looked each woman in the eye
Trying to size up his opponents
Breaking them down, by the by,
Into their singular components

The first of the lovely ladies
Was a formidable sight
She stood a foot above the others
And her clothes were very tight

Underneath her few bits of armour
Was a boob tube and hot pants
That, if they squeezed her any harder,
Would expose her affluence

Pete couldn't help feeling that
This wouldn't be so bad a thing
He mentally imagined that
Whilst ogling her belly ring.

The second of the deadly four
At first seemed far more normal than
The other members of her more
Or less satanic evil clan.

Though dressed in what appeared to be
Little more than a violet dress,
A pair of trainers on her feet
And red-white thigh length socks, I guess,

Here face expressed a look that sent
A set of shivers down Pete's spine;
Though she seemed cute and innocent
Her teeth showed that all was not fine.

They shone and sparkled in the light
And sent out flashing beams like fire
Pete was taken quite aback
To see that she was a vampire!

Gulping, he moved on to see
The third of this mixed bag of weirds
Who didn't seem a girl to be
For she sported two tufty beards!

They sprouted out from either side
Of a clearly feminine face
She also had sharp pointed teeth
That didn't seem that out of place

Her hair was long and sprouted out
At angles from her lupine head
Her hands were clawed much like a wolf
And filled Pete's heart with fear and dread.

But 'twas the fourth that was to Pete
The icing on the proverbial cake
She had a look that was insane
Of this there could be no mistake

She wore what clearly was an outfit
Designed to inspire fear
(Although it clutched her breasts together
And exposed her derriere)

She wore upon her head a pair
Of artificial leather ears
And also had a fluffy, furry
Tail exposed from out her rear.

Now Pete was no zoologist
He didn't even have degrees
But he could see the tail was real
Which made him feel weak at the knees.

This creature, who appeared in charge,
Smiled sweetly at the worried man
Then chortled in the strangest way
And her face with her paws did fan.

She placed those paws upon her hips
And glared at Pete with mockery;
Then slowly she parted her lips
And asked, "Are you afraid of me?"

Pete just looked at her in fear
Expressing the emotion he
Hadn't wanted her to hear,
But now she looked at him with glee.

"Do you not know who I am?
Are you not a pupil from
New Mexico University?"
Pete just stared and acted dumb.

"Very well!" she expressed with quite
An element of finality,
"If you refuse to talk at all,
You should expect brutality!"

Now Pete was far from being brave
In fact quite to the contrary
He possessed the courage of some-
One extremely cowardly

He cowered, as a coward would,
At the feet of the ladies four
Then, with what loosely passed for courage,
Made a bolt towards the door!

Unfortunately for poor Pete
The lupine villain was too swift
And intercepted his escape,
Leaving him feeling rather miffed.

Their leader held Pete by the throat
And smiled; "So, you think you are quick!"
She chuckled, "Ha, you can't escape
From me, for I'm Chinchilla Chick!"

Pete struggled at his restraints
Trying to see if he could free
Himself from where he and his friends
Had been held in captivity.

They would not move, they would not budge,
They would not loosen, not a bit.
Pete finally resigned himself
From trying to escape from it.

He realised that his attempts
At trying to set himself free
Would only lead to failure
And, consequently, misery.

He looked to where his best friend Dave
Lay motionless upon his table
Strapped down much like Pete had been
With old rope and some lengths of cable.

Mr Greenfield still appeared
To be out cold as Pete had seen
Just a few hours earlier;
Such treatment felt, to Pete, obscene.

How could these women be so cruel
- Despite their obvious evil plan -
How could they do such evil things
To a defenceless aged man?

Now Pete was feeling sorry for
Most every person in the room
Including himself on the list
Of those who faced impending doom,

But just as he thought all was lost,
Just when he thought that what he feared
Would happen, through the dungeon doors
George, Melanie and Seema reared.

The evil woman who was guarding
Her clan's first and only take
Was the one who was like a wolf
And she was no match, no mistake,

As George appeared through double doors
The lupine villainess did leap
At him, but he brushed her aside;
She landed in a flustered heap.

But soon the other three arrived
To see their fallen comrade had
Been beaten by what seemed to them
To be Barney's abnormal dad!

The giant girl increased in size
Which seemed impossible to do
Considering she must have been
Above average height by a foot or two!

She growled and swiped at Melanie
Who swiftly skated out the way.
Pete groaned to see the feeble fight
And thought, "This really ain't my day!"

As George fought off the brave return
Of Lupine Girl, Melanie tried
To keep the Giant Chick at bay
By kicking her until she cried.

Meanwhile poor Seema found herself
Faced off against a foe who seemed
To chill her to the very bone
Each time she smiled, each time she beamed.

The vampire bore down on her,
A grin across her deathly lips,
So Seema tried to fade from sight
In order to give her the slip.

The vampire, a mite confused,
Her eyes narrowed with concentration
Tried to catch a glimpse of her
But couldn't. In exasperation

She let fly a cry that could have
Curdled blood at fifty paces
Seema shrieked and, panic stricken,
Returned to her normal basis.

George couldn't believe that they
Were being beaten by a band
Of renegades. He sighed out loud
Then motioned with his scaly hand

For all the others to fall back
Away from their collective foe
And try to get Dave, Pete and Mr
Greenfield out before they know

What's hit them. Seema nodded and
Began to untie Pete, then Dave,
As Melanie untied Jerome
And George began to act quite brave

By holding off the evil horde
Alone, with no one else's aid
But soon they'd nearly beaten him
And his wits became rather frayed.

This wasn't due to all the fighting
Or the bizarre situation
Nor was it because the baddies
Caused him heaps of irritation

It was due to something in
This section of the universe;
Something that surrounded the school
Caused everything to sound like verse!

The others had all noticed too;
How strange to communicate in
A set of layed out formulae
With no room for spontaneity!

Mel and Seema helped up Pete,
And Dave too as he came around,
But Mr Greenfield didn't move
And didn't even make a sound.

The others helped him out the door,
The villains didn't hinder them.
They left with no intention to
Ever see those villains again

But they had other plans in mind,
"Let them escape, they won't get far,"
Chinchilla Chick laughed to herself,
"Not now that we are on a par!

They may believe that they are hard
They may believe that they are tough
But when I'm through with beating them
They'll know that they have had enough!"

"But what if they return, CC?"
the giant woman asked with interest,
CC smiled, "Well then, my friend
The courts will have to hold an inquest!"

As the others left the grounds
And almost reached their boundaries end
They stopped to check over Jerome,
To see how fared their feeble friend.

His pulse was weak, his skin was warm,
His breathing was inept and laboured;
It was clear to everyone
His situation wasn't favoured.

"We should get him to a hospi-
Tal for medical attention!"
Seema said, and everybody
Agreed with her apt suggestion.

As they carried Mr Greenfield
To the gates that left the grounds
They all looked back on hearing what
Could only be described as sounds

Of anger booming from the uni-
Versity they'd left behind.
A flash of light flared up from inside,
Causing them all to be blind.

"I may have let you go this time,"
Chinchilla Chick's voice threatened them,
"But when we do next meet each other,
I'll not let you go again!"

The voice died down, as did the light.
The super-heroes ignored the
Pathetic threat of CC's, as it
Faded to obscurity.

"I doubt they'll trouble us again!"
George noted as they neared the gate.
"I hope this rhyming talk wears off!
When it does I can hardly wait!"

They carried Mr Greenfield passed
The point where talking rhythmically
Would finally come to an end
And then made their way to the nearest hospital to check Mr Greenfield in. Despite his healing abilities, his chances didn't look good.


message 9: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Edward wrote: "This was originally chapter eleven in my upcoming novel “Mutant Toe & The Risky Recruitment”, but I scrapped the idea, thinking it too odd. To give it some context, the characters find themselves i..."

That was really good! A bit confusing, but the wittiness of it is in a word classic.


message 10: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Gashbeen wrote: "I really like your poem, Raven. It's pretty good. Keep up the good work!"

Thank you so much! I most certainly will. :D


message 11: by C.P., Windrunner (new)

C.P. Cabaniss (cpcabaniss) | 637 comments Gashbeen wrote: "Locked Within A Cage

By Gashbeen Saeed

Like a bird in a cage,
I sing to hide the pain.
Caged by my emotions,
There is nothing to gain."


I really like this one. It's short and powerful.


message 12: by C.P., Windrunner (new)

C.P. Cabaniss (cpcabaniss) | 637 comments Edward, that would have made for an interesting chapter!

It was a lot of fun, I really enjoyed reading it.


message 13: by Edward (new)

Edward Davies | 1727 comments Courtney wrote: "Edward, that would have made for an interesting chapter!

It was a lot of fun, I really enjoyed reading it."


After deciding it was too silly, I rewrote it as prose.


message 14: by Mark (last edited Feb 22, 2016 06:53PM) (new)

Mark (crawdadddy) | 402 comments On Windy Day
by Mark Reeves

I threw a disc into the air,
It fell to Earth I know not where,
Hole number One or number Four,
Best score at Morris that's for sure.

2 Likes 3 Comments
Comment · Mark Reeves: iambic tetrameter
Like · Reply
Lufkin Launchers: Did you ever find it? - Uly
Comment · Uly: So, near hole 4?
Comment · Mark Reeves: It's just a poem. About disc golf.



message 15: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Mark wrote: "On Windy Day
by Mark Reeves

I threw a disc into the air,
It fell to Earth I know not where,
Hole number One or number Four,
Best score at Morris that's for sure.

2 Likes 3 Comments
Comment · Mar..."


That's really interesting. I like it. :D <3


message 16: by Julie (new)

Julie Grenness | 137 comments From Julie.
A TWISTED TALE OF ROBIN HOOD!
Let's look at this tale of Robin Hood,
He was far away, being way too good,
Rob the rich, give to the poor,
Maid Marian left open her door,
She was feeling much too generous,
Got it on with Little John, no fuss,
Far away was Robin Hood,
Really, he was much too good,
Then in came Friar Tuck,
In with Maid Marian he snuck,
Then they both got it on,
With hyperactive Little John,
Yes, Maid Marian was benevolent,
Indeed, they all knew what that meant,
Thus, this twisted tale of Robin Hood,
John, Tuck, no Robin Hood, the good!

(Feedback welcome. A light hearted look at a legend!)


message 17: by Mark (new)

Mark (crawdadddy) | 402 comments Morning Glow by Raven/Reibun:

Thanks Raven, I just read your entry, a series of contradiction, but such is life, and love. I liked it very much. Well done!


message 18: by Mark (last edited Feb 22, 2016 07:17PM) (new)

Mark (crawdadddy) | 402 comments A wrote: :D Nice one."
If only you knew what I have done to M.

....And your entry was beautiful. Of youth's remorse? You will experience that again. In the sharing.


message 19: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Julie wrote: "From Julie.
A TWISTED TALE OF ROBIN HOOD!
Let's look at this tale of Robin Hood,
He was far away, being way too good,
Rob the rich, give to the poor,
Maid Marian left open her door,
She was feelin..."


I really like it, the poem has a really nice rhythm to it. :D <3


message 20: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Mark wrote: "Morning Glow by Raven/Reibun:

Thanks Raven, I just read your entry, a series of contradiction, but such is life, and love. I liked it very much. Well done!"


Thank you so much. :D I'm glad you liked it. <3


message 21: by Ryan (new)

Ryan | 5334 comments Lover

she is a poem,
electric brush of moonlight
stroking naked flesh

she is a poem,
crimson rush of forest fire
burning hidden dells

she is a poem,
the heated blush of verses
written on my soul

~ R ~

any feedback welcome


message 22: by Lee (new)

Lee (lee-lette) | 1839 comments Awesome job Ryan. Are you sure you aren't a published author?


message 23: by Mark (last edited Feb 22, 2016 07:36PM) (new)

Mark (crawdadddy) | 402 comments Ryan wrote: "Lover"

Wow Ryan: That is pretty steaming hot. I like the pounding repetition of the first line, works for me.


message 24: by Lee (new)

Lee (lee-lette) | 1839 comments He really does! I'd be the first customer.


message 25: by Gashbeen (new)

Gashbeen | 167 comments Ryan,

you are a poet,
angelic words hypnotize
excited readers

you are a poet,
burning your words into the minds
of fellow writers

you are a poet,
of which appreciation
is justly deserved

Ryan, I felt that your poem was so amazing that in response, you deserved a poem of the same style praising you and your amazing work. I am proud to say that I am in the same group as you, and that I can't wait to read more of your work. Keep up the good work!


message 26: by Vidya (new)

Vidya (vidyaanil) | 9 comments YELLOW!

When I saw you in a distant dream...
You turned from blue to grey to dark with the distant evening sky...
You still carried that yellow around, I could see you when it was clouded grey in mind...
Wishes that turned from yellow to crimson to dark with setting sun..seemed denied.
You still carried that yellow around...like the twinkle of the stars in the distant sky.

When I saw you in a living dream....
You turned from dark to grey to blue like the morning sky.
You still carry that yellow around..colouring me in the colour that clears clouded grey in mind.
Wishes turn from dark to crimson to yellow..same as your colour...bathing me with the warm sun.


message 27: by Vidya (new)

Vidya (vidyaanil) | 9 comments The Last November

The last i touched november, it was the shade of warm yellow, it was a mix of green and yellow like a canopy on the roads....
Last time i touched November, there was this voice with its silken hues of yellow, like a silk thread all qoven around me....
Last time i touched November, i was warned of the what was coming, like a pot at the edge waiting to be toppled to be broken....
Last Time i touched November, i flew in the wind that smelled yellow, like the dandelions that flew when i tried to kiss it good bye.


message 28: by Vidya (new)

Vidya (vidyaanil) | 9 comments i am so sorry!... :( i would like to submit 'the last november'


message 29: by Rachel (last edited Feb 23, 2016 06:24AM) (new)

Rachel Heinen | 134 comments The Story of the Fortune Teller
by Rachel

It all started with a paper fortune teller.
Carefully crafted out of spare notebook paper,
made with more care and love than
ever was put into our homework.
Our brand new fortunes hidden to the outside world
by each printed number,
waiting to be inflicted on the first
to choose it’s number.

During recess we’d rush outside
to waiting friends holding their fortune tellers.
Twenty minutes later, we’d come back in
laughing about our future lives,
perfectly predicted in just one recess,
just to be completely rewritten
two hours later.

I made a point on my fortune tellers
to make every fortune happy.
It was all win the lottery
or live in a mansion
or fall in love
or become a princess
with me.
No death
or disease
or anxiety
or pain.
I was so convinced we were
all going to end up happy.

If only I could see us now,
hiding in the bathroom during class,
showing up to school with red rimmed eyes,
and always wearing long sleeves.

Besides, isn’t life just a giant
paper fortune teller.
Both unreliable and reliable,
precise and imprecise.
Each finger hole being
controlled by millions or billions
of strangers, all pushing and pulling,
deciding our future.
We decide our own fate with
a blind guess of color and a number.
Finally a flip of a fold reveals it all.
Your fate being spelled out in
the neat handwriting of your fourth grade self.

There is one thing my fourth grade self never anticipated on.
I didn’t realize not every future is happy.


message 30: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Vidya wrote: "The Last November

The last i touched november, it was the shade of warm yellow, it was a mix of green and yellow like a canopy on the roads....
Last time i touched November, there was this voice ..."


That was so beautiful, the image that it paints is breathtaking, I LOVE your choice of words. <3


message 31: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Rachel wrote: "The Story of the Fortune Teller
by Rachel

It all started with a paper fortune teller.
Carefully crafted out of spare notebook paper,
made with more care and love than
ever was put into our homewo..."


That is beautiful. So often in this life we are met with disappointment, but how often do we embrace the disappointment and seek out the light? I think that is what this life is all about. :D


message 32: by Meenakshi (new)

Meenakshi Raina | 32 comments Blessed I am...


Bullets and blood,
And people are dead,
There are many,
Who live in fear,
There are children,
Without any care,
Devils are on run,
Chasing the innocent.

Who knows when,
Life becomes a curse,
Tears have dried,
Smiles are forgotten,
Happiness is lost,
Humanity has frozen,
When I see,
World around me,
I realize how blessed I am,
To be with my loved ones.


message 33: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Meenakshi wrote: "Blessed I am...


Bullets and blood,
And people are dead,
There are many,
Who live in fear,
There are children,
Without any care,
Devils are on run,
Chasing the innocent.

Who knows when,
Life be..."


Oh my gosh, I LOVE that. It's always good when we are reminded of our blessings. <3


message 34: by C.P., Windrunner (new)

C.P. Cabaniss (cpcabaniss) | 637 comments Title: Wounded
By: C P Cabaniss

Riddled with bullets
Covered in holes
It feels so cold
When can I go home


message 35: by Raven (new)

Raven (Reibunriinta) Courtney, that was stunning. Actually, I'm revising a fantasy manuscript I wrote about war...so that's actually really helpful.


message 36: by C.P., Windrunner (new)

C.P. Cabaniss (cpcabaniss) | 637 comments Thank you, Raven! I'm glad you enjoyed it and it was helpful in some way. :)


message 37: by Gretchen (last edited Feb 29, 2016 08:56AM) (new)

Gretchen Guerrettaz (gretchiepoo24) | 44 comments Love
By: Gretchen Guerrettaz


smells like the person that is holding you close.
It tastes like the sweet caress of rain that falls on your lips in a pitter-patter pattern.

Love looks like all the different colored hands in the world come together as one.

It feels like the rough calloused palms of a poor boy that was hardened too soon.

It sounds like the soft soothing lullaby of a mother comforting her crying child.

Love is felt when you were one cry away, from the

crazy

jagged
lines

but you loved yourself enough to hang on, even though it seemed hopeless.
Love is the feeling of looking into their eyes and knowing that you are home.


message 38: by Mahlia (new)

Mahlia Solitary Confinement
By Mahlia~Every Moment Wasted Looking Back, Keeps Us From Moving Forward

I wish for just one day
I could be the same as others
But I know this is just a dream
When people observe me they see a quite girl
One who doesn't speak unless she has to
Whose actions are under control
Someone who rarely reacts to anything
This is because they do not know me
It's because of her
She's always there
Her cold dark eyes lock with mine
Searching my soul for words that will never reach her ears
If only she knew what ran through my mind
My words so malicious even she would be afraid
This girl who is as tough as nails
She would observe the real me
The one who can't control her words
Whose actions are let loose on the fly
There is no warning
I sit behind my prison bars
Bound to the wall with my own chains
It's just me, myself, and I


message 39: by C.P., Windrunner (new)

C.P. Cabaniss (cpcabaniss) | 637 comments Raven: This was a very nice poem and a great introduction to the group! I look forward to reading more of your work.

Mark: I really like this one. There was a disc golf course at my university, people would get really into it.

Julie: This is an interesting little poem. I really like the flow and pace.

Ryan: Another beautiful poem. I love how you're always able to keep your poems so short and powerful.

Vidya: I really like this! Very pretty.

Rachel: Great poem! It's great how reflective it is.

Meenakshi: I really like this one and like Raven and Al said, it is a great reminder to appreciate and notice your blessings.

Gretchen: Love it! It was great that you were able to incorporate all five senses. That just made it more powerful.

Mahlia: I really like this. I think everyone can relate to it in some way. Nicely done.

These are great poems so far guys! It will be hard to vote this week.


message 40: by Mahlia (new)

Mahlia Thank you both very much! Feedback is what I'm looking for! Your right Courtney, this week will be difficult, you guys are amazing :)


message 41: by Gretchen (new)

Gretchen Guerrettaz (gretchiepoo24) | 44 comments Thank you so much Courtney and Al! :)


message 42: by Grace (new)

Grace Crandall | 299 comments Lost and Found

By Grace Crandall

The little lines lay on the page
And touched a sullen heart;
Though my mind was weak with age,
I felt young in my art.

A curlew cried in the ink-smeared sky,
Frozen in its flight,
And underneath it, passing by,
Rode a shrouded knight.

The horse had raised a hoof to paw,
His still ears set askew,
Looking-what was it that he saw?
Only he, and God, knew.

The branches, dry and brittle,
Crooked eerily above,
A damp on the horse's mettle,
A thrill in the man's blood.

Adventure lay quiet, waiting,
Waiting still and silent,
Hope was stirring, stirring--
And the place of Sorrow was vacant.


message 43: by C.P., Windrunner (new)

C.P. Cabaniss (cpcabaniss) | 637 comments Very pretty, Grace! I like it a lot.


message 44: by Mahlia (new)

Mahlia I love it, great job!


message 45: by Grace (new)

Grace Crandall | 299 comments Thanks guys!! :)


message 46: by Kate (new)

Kate | 11 comments Pick Your Side
By: Kate H.

Every inside is outside
so are we really inside?
We aren’t freezing our bones
outside but where is inside?
Inside is in the outside
so we must be too because
we are inside which really
isn’t inside at all.
Maybe we’re inside-out.
Maybe we need to stop thinking
about it being inside
and think about it being unside.
But if unside is the opposite
of inside, then wouldn’t that
be outside too?


message 47: by C.P., Windrunner (new)

C.P. Cabaniss (cpcabaniss) | 637 comments I like that, Kate! Very thought provoking.


message 48: by Guy (last edited Feb 28, 2016 03:22PM) (new)

Guy (egajd) | 11105 comments The Mute Bell
        by Guy Duperreault (FB&C welcomed)

The bicycle’s front wheel wobbled.
It was an old bike,
the new paint he’d given it a denial of the
rust and flaking paint that had covered it.
The new seat and grips were bright.
He’d left untouched the bell on the handle bar,
the bell that was mute, seized up with time and neglect,
as an acknowledgement, like a scar, of the bike’s history.

He had taken the bike,
although he liked to think that he had recovered it — saved it!
from slow death under the eave of a dilapidated garage.
He had cut it out of the long and knotted grass,
an unexpectedly hard fight,
in the ambient darkness of a city under a nearly full moon.
It was a rescue, he felt.
He’d rescued the bike.
It had been a slow rescue,
he had ignored the irrational feeling
that it had been calling out to him for a long time,
every time,
he had walked down that alley.

The bicycle’s front wheel wobbled
no matter how hard he had tried to fix it,
and the bell remained mute.
It was too small for him to ride,
and he had no one to give it to,
even if anyone would want such a bike.

The front wheel of his old bike wobbled,
an imperfect circle.


message 49: by Ryan (new)

Ryan | 5334 comments Wow, I've got some catching up to do!

Al - thank you for your nice comments on my poem.

You already know what I think of 'In the Days of Kings' but, just in case you've forgotten - it is one of my absolute favourites of yours. Stunning! You didn't ask for feedback so I'll leave it at that.


message 50: by Ryan (new)

Ryan | 5334 comments Lee-lette - what a nice thing to say. I do have some stuff published but certainly not as much as I'd like or enough to make a living from. Thank you for making me smile :)

Hopefully we'll see a poem from you this week...


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