Newest
At the ParkIt is a beautiful spring day Painted gold by a fanciful sun- Peeking from a clouded sky.At the Park
At our feet-- Branches of trees encompass us. An the daffodil bobs its white head Grinning a yellow grin- With its arms raised skyward.
Perhaps in praise.
And we lay here - in damp grass And you laugh, and laugh Painting the sky with your happiness.
And I smile - knowing. That these small moments Are my greatest joy--
And my greatest accomplishment.
by =savvy
NightmareWhy do you meet me in dreams When my mind is dark and- Thick with vivid imagination.Nightmare
There are rats heaving over me Giving me that serial killer grin- And I can feel the claws of dread The hook that catches my insides: Pulling me downwards.
I remember sepia tones-- Slipping from the walls. A thick stench of perfume and smoke Toiling against my eyes and tongue. Vomit and stink pool in my stomach-- But never death.
The moon was saturated in menstrual blood Pouring a clotted brown light over me.
And though my memory is a dy
by =savvy
White NightAs the mother’s frail leaves fall And frost begins to blow a cooling breath Autumn bathes us in red - gold, and all Young widows gather to mourn summer’s death.White Night
And though I hear a flutter of wings I am lost: trembling within a spring day, Once so remote - to my memory hastily brings A dream that appeared perfect from far away.
But while within the grove the sun has dimmed, And the moon is haunting summer days – lost I find the oak’s lips are golden brimmed And together we kiss the moon’s twilight frost.
And as we w
by =savvy
FreewriteIt is a cold evening; My breath paints a picture Of death dressed in white.Freewrite
I enjoy the company.
My feet ache for home My heart wonders why- They journeyed so far.
The mist seems to blend - My tones into the sky. I become invisible Under the cover of the world.
It has been a long way home And nothing shelters me Except moonlight and frost coverings.
Nestled in my heart there is a pearl- Of sorrow. It is encompassed and entwined by love; Suffocated by gay and wondrous dreams.
The decay of leaves
by =savvy
Favourites
by *ArchArad
Pomegranate and ScorpionI Staring at the charred remains, I grieve. Trellis and stone blackened by fire, the scorpion statue that sat in the pomegranate tree. I check the coming tantrum, reminding myself yet again that life is not fair, life is never fair.Pomegranate and Scorpion
II The pomegranate, sole survivor, Proudly stands in the remains. A gift of his parents and responsible for tears in the children’s clothes. The garden is the only living loss; the ruination of the scorpion has raised our ire.
It used to sparkle gaily in the sunlight, perched in the pomegran
by ~Teague-Drydan
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