[x]

PreoccupiedYou come to me in
fits and starts,
moments stolen
between projects,
minutes spared
from more
important things.

Are you really so busy?
Or is it something more?

A fear, perhaps, that
should you taste
me too deeply,
the hours will spin
away beyond your
ability to catch them?
That your thoughts
will no longer heed
your rationality?

No? Shall we test it then?

Today, give me your
undivided attention -
just one day with me
in a quiet room
among clean, scented linens,
October breezes
fluttering the curtains
as bright morning slides
unnoticed into afternoon,
shadows growing unhurried
toward night.

Now, tell me again
ho

manic depressive the sky has shed its coat, blooming gray before me. someone is releasing the rain from their palms, sliding down their knuckles, melting off of their fingers. the water is clingy, and it hits the ground with a full-body slap, quivering the life out of it, sending it up to the stars. the lightning extends, three thousand arms reaching, afraid of all that it will touch. the thunder growls, a cat with its toy, a stomach that has not been fed in weeks.

it cries, bleeds, a thrashing wave of terror, a living creature storming. my hands begin to shake. outside the rain whips through the screening and throws itself onto the porch, fright

His Never-Wed BrideBriskly comes the bloody winter wind’s vent
Gray dusk looms over my shattered homestead
The crow’s caw makes known the warrior’s descent
Across the dying pasture, misted red

Glory, comes now my once sweetly adored!
Fighting brothers with valiant reluctance
His tender eyes shut, his breathing no more
His body lies stone-cold with stiffened stance

How well he fought for his country and lass
Like Prince Paris, fighting for what he claimed
Now laid ready for a still, somber mass
His face in my conscience forever famed

Gone is the restful warmth of his skin
Gone is the honey-like voice from his tongue
Yet, here he lays

It wasIt smelled exactly as it was;
a lily scent scattered
about the living room
to hide the death scent.

A jar of ash by the fireplace;
no casket displaying your
mangled body that
couldn't be handled,
couldn't be seen.

I wanted to powder
my skin with your ashes-
perhaps, like makeup
on my face.
My foundation.

I could become your smell.
I could become the color
of whatever was left of you.

cool banana radioa windswept hairline crept out of the shored up morn
collecting the wiry thoughts of night to fresh spindles
as the rest of the body caught up in a rush of coffee...
or was it tea? ah, it's a dry cotton mouth either way,
good practice cranking the motormouth stammering
out wrinkled logorrhea readied for the hot ironic.

and the man said he'd be damned if he won't...and he was,
or wasn't, just spouting from the mouth to be held at bay
'til words like waves found sound and played the proper yellow -
the shade of his heart, drowning out & droned: a cool banana radio.

he brushed the static from his teeth, flossed the whispers
from the e

PrinceCall out the
Army of the world;
Run amok,
The prince is waiting.
He stretches his hand out
Every day, listening to his praises.
In every word I say,
Nothing gets through to him.
Sorry dear Prince, but you won't get
A bow from me,
Nor a kiss on the hand.
Every action that comes from me is rebellion.

Pick-Up LinesForgive me if this comes out wrong,
but I couldn't help but stare--
No, don't worry there's nothing on your face,
on your shirt, or in your hair.

I'm guessing you don't get approached often,
there's no need to defend your position;
I understand the society we're living in,
Full of shallow pricks and egotistical jerks--

I get it.

So spare me the details of the made-up story
I see you fumbling behind your eyes,
I'm not going to buy it, so chill, relax,
take another sip of your drink and I'll explain why

I'm here in the first place because I know
you're dying to know why a girl like me
(not saying I am anything special
but you d

the art to love lettersHello, love,
or is it hey, good evening, I'm charmed?
What's the rule when writing a letter,
to the present and beyond,
when you're requesting permission
to stay forever in each other's arms?
I guess I'll stay with the formal “hello,”
though we've been together long enough
for a hey, but here I go, rambling because
I just never know what to say
when it comes to writing letters,
about feelings, which we both have,
and share, mostly physically but you
whisper to me in my sleep about
how much you love me and it's true
and you don't know what you'd do without me
or what I'd do without you, and I'm not making much
sense

LifeWasHereAndSoWasDeathwe are heaven and hell,
black and white,
summer and winter,
good and bad,
right and wrong.
[you always claimed
the first in every contradictory
word i mumbled to my knees;
you always took the best
and left me with the worst.]

you always told me
i was the best thing
that ever happened
to you,
and then the worst
[yin and yang couldn't
compete with us, fire
and water didnt even try.]

bipolar tendencies caught
you by the scruff of your neck,
and you sank your teeth right
into this north-south act.
[i love you,
i hate you,
we're made for each other,
we're incompatible slime,
marry me,
bleed for me.]

call it anything yo

in the right time frameI've been there through
the dark times,
when you didn't see,
were afraid to look around,
but I was watching,
hand open and ready to grasp
if you were to reach out,
I wanted to be there.

Had to keep myself
from getting too close,
viewing you as a type of God,
though you were mortal,
even though your words
spoke volumes.
I admired you, but was afraid,
if I said too much
I would just embarrass myself
and that would be the end.

I wished to be your angel,
to save you when the time was right.
But instead you found me
with the feathers torn from the wings,
lying still, barely breathing,
and you dusted me off,
put me back on m

if we could would youfor a day, could we close the blinds
and lie in bed? Tell stories of ships
and waves, and giant squids
under the covers, giggling,
tickling, and let sunlight turn to moonlight
once again.

Throw responsibility out the window
even though that we shouldn't
because love has overflowed
and destroyed reason
and we focus on instinct
instead.

I want you to take my hand
and force me to my feet,
we start to dance, slowly,
then closer, a bit faster,
until we forget there is music playing
but we keep going
because our bodies move so well as one.

To take away all your stresses,
your anger and your pain,
if only for a day,
would be a

no matter.collabin winter evenings of ‘43
we would sit together on the
water logged wooded porch of mine
and watch moths burn into flames
as they flocked to the flood lights
that drowned us in warm light

we were moonbathers and treacherous
singers, blowing pale blue notes from
the backs of our tongues and whistling
them through our teeth. we would
catch frostbite with the tips of
our fingers and breath warm air from
between our lips.

you’d take my ice cold hands
and melt them in yours when you traced out invisible maps
for me to follow later when I was alone or lost
because they’d always lead me back to you.
only for me to

it's not always simpleAn hour into the future claims I would have died
at the intersection connecting Union and Broadway
because I was looking the wrong way
and forgetting important facts
and lingering on mishaps
instead of concentrating on what matters.

A simple correction.
A quick reminder.
Avoids deadly consequences
so a life can be saved.

A year into the eyes of a stranger leaves you
standing breathless because they have forgotten to breathe
sinking into a porcelain tub of ice cold water
because no one cared to ask
“how are you”
as they crumbled inside.

One small smile.
A helping hand.
Avoids a broken heart
down the road.

You woul

ThereJust the mere thought of losing you
is the fingertip which tips the emotional
curve, domino after domino, functions failing,
systems crashing, and a sturdy foundation
comes crumbling down around me.

And I'm standing in the rubble
of crushed hearts I've never seen,
Tears I don't remember crying,
And screams echoing between
the[don't leave me here alone]ears.

A simple touch does not reassure me;
Your voice temporarily steadies the panicked heart.
But it takes a night time
Of feeling you close beside me,
Until I know for sure you won't disappear.

And I'm standing in the clouds
Feeling raindrops before they turn to snow,
Seeing r

EllipsisPeople stopped speaking
people stopped dreaming
when they saw your face
that fake treacherous...

But when I DO dream
it's not of pleasant things
like it used to be
it's of the darkness surrounding

People stopped hoping
people stopped hearing
when they saw your lies
those sad little...

But when I do hope
it's of improbable things
not like it used to be
there's a void caressing

People stopped singing
people stopped daring
when they saw you smile
that unreadable...

But when I do dare
it will be of amazing things
I'll get away from here
from people like you

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More from ^Beccalicious

Napo 7- Teen of the 90'sI wanted to be Posh Spice because my
hair was brown bobbed and she dated David
Beckham; I wanted to marry him. I
had no internet and recorded songs
on the radio to tape, daring to
pause and knock out the DJ’s droll. I sang
to S Club and thought I was the coolest
in my smiley faced top and my yingyang
friendship necklaces. You had to know the
Macarena not just for weddings but
school discos too and then every steps routine
to fit in. Slow dances with boys made me
wish again that they were David Beckham
and not greasy teens with bad curtains for
hair. They pressed themselves against you before
travelling to the next girl in leopard
print skirt. Viva forever was merely
a fantasy ; one I’d dream the whole of
the nineties, hoping my teenage self could
find her inner strength, her true girl power.

Napo 6- IreneShe left you a letter
outwitting at last the greatest.
A photograph, filched;
a King’s humiliation.
In your eyes she
holds the highest.

Napo 5- In the ParkWe can’t forget the
sunglasses. If we do,
we’ll be conspicuous.

Napo 4- Warrior with painted faceThere’s a warrior with a painted face
and streaks of black across his chest; he stands
wild with pride. His merciless eyes ignited by the
echoes of fallen enemies. He slew
two hundred men and just scars mark their defence.
There’s a warrior with a painted face
who prays to gods mightier than he; he kneels
arms open to implore. He calls upon his army
to pray with him; equals once more. He watches
embers burn before retiring to his tent.
There’s a warrior with a painted face
and inside his heart rests a son and daughter
sleeping. There is a reason he is
a warrior.

Napo 3- Leaving the Train Station
Leaving the train station
alone I watch strangers head home.
The waves for yellow cabs and
stench of fresh-lit cigarettes, I let
the cold cloud white breath.
Even at midnight, a long-coated businessman
hurries past with laptop bag bulging and blackberry to ear. Behind me,
a clip-clack of heels and giggles-
their night hasn’t ended.
Across the road, three youths in hooded
tops kick a can whilst eating chips only stopping
as clip-clacks pass them and swoon
immaturity. Swear words exchange.
In the ice-wind rubbish travels as if taking
a commute, tapa-tapping the concrete.
Exhausted I can only wait with
white breath etching blue hands desperate to be
warmed. Eyes fight; tired and
vigilant

Napo 2- Zombie ApocolypseTurn, turn, slow turn. Twist bones
broke but drag drag behind, pull
tug flesh ripped. Shuffle, groan desire
only for blood brains.
Undead, unliving, unknown.
To survive a zombie apocalypse don’t be
a hero. Do not fight marauders without
necessity. Attrition; gnawing for bare
minimal (lest you be gnawed upon!). To
survive ravenous army equip your
your wits and an axe.
Moan as much as they moan- both sides are hungry.

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Little Paper Umbrella

by ^Beccalicious, Oct 22, 2008, 3:58:40 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Little pink paper umbrella
dances in glass;
prancing, dodging bubbles.
It toys with each spin between
suitors of fruit. The lime,
lemon and cherry all compete
to partner whilst the ice cube
audience watch in awe.

How they all cried in shock
as pink paper umbrella was
yanked from the ballroom
and tucked into the hair
of a passing cocktail waitress.

Little Paper Umbrellaby ^Beccalicious

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Things have been a bit flat recently, so I've been looking at some old scrap pieces and tidying them up a little. Mainly because I am a writer but my gallery only shows devmeet pictures!

This was originally from Napo in April. I start Nano next month so thought a bit of poetry may ease my mind.

I didn't actually know what category to put this in so went for general. This is shocking behavior for a miscat mistress!

I am sure there is lots wrong with it.

Critique by ~GrimEden Sep 10, 2009, 8:34:34 AM

I thoroughly enjoyed the POV and the representation of the fruit and umbrella as in a sort of courtship. Their world seemed joyful and innocent before the human interruption changes everything, which calls into question the role of humankind in the natural world. Here, we seem selfish and inconsiderate, but, of course, that’s only because of ignorance to the dance. Still, there is a lot of weight, perhaps blame, which can be placed upon us through the subtleties of this piece. It’s a nice addition to an intimate POV about small insignificant objects.

There is an inconsistency in conjugation in the second and third lines that I find a little vexing. I would rather see a consistent method even if not grammatical necessary: dances, prances, dodges, or dancing, prancing dodging. Now, if the semi-colon was a colon, and the following actions were a description of the dance, then I think the conjugation is fine, but the semi-colon essentially equalizes the verbs because it tells me they both are contained in complete sentences. I think. *shrug* I’m no grammarian.

At the end of that stanza, I initially thought “watch” would be better as watches, but I don’t know anymore, nor do I know the root of that impulse.

This is a weird though, but I like “the lemon” better than “the lime.” I don’t know what replacing the order of those words does, aside from turning an iamb into an amphibrach, but I like the change.

Also, “toys” and “spin” confuses me a little. My reading is that the umbrella is toying with itself, which I don’t think is possible with the usage of toy. It can toy with the fruit, which is I think what you’re driving at, but the syntax makes the spinning the verb of the subject and “toy” feels like it is acting as an adverb, which can’t be right. Each spin is a tease. It’s teasing the fruit through spinning. … I get what is going on, but the phrasing doesn’t feel right.

I love the closing stanza. “In shock” doesn’t seem necessary since what occurs is revealed to be intrusive and abrupt. You could probably cut some words from the last stanza to make it hypotaxic, which might build upon the fracture state of the courtship. For instance: How they all cried/pink paper umbrella/yanked from ballroom/tucked into hair/of passing cocktail waitress.

It is a lovely piece. I hope you give it another look.

What do you think?

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~Sakynator Feb 4, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

This poem is really cute! I love the last stanza, I 'awww'-d at it.

~Th3-C0unt3ss Feb 2, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Sweet, short poem

Very original! Just out of curiosity, where did you get the idea to write this?

^Beccalicious Feb 4, 2012 Professional Writer

I wrote this so long ago its hard to remember! Knowing me, probably from cocktails

~Th3-C0unt3ss Feb 4, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Ahhh ^^ OK

~Mew-Mew-adict Mar 22, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Charming, I love how you made the glass a ball room. Lovely work!

~Darkcobra-SK Dec 22, 2008 Interface Designer

Very unique and easy to envision. Has a playfulness to it that I admire. Very nice. ^_^

!EverydaySaint Dec 22, 2008 Hobbyist Writer

This was featured in, Literature Features: Edition One!
If you wish to see the news post, click this [link]

~ =SeptemberBreeze

~discontentbeauty Dec 14, 2008

the "suitor" idea works well.

~eldestmuse Dec 10, 2008

I thought it was a little wordier than I expected, not as snappy as I'm used to out of you, but I really enjoyed the imagery.

Sorry the comment is so late, but I've been so busy with school, as you can tell from the state of my own gallery and how scarce I've been in the lit chats

!EverydaySaint Nov 25, 2008 Hobbyist Writer

I like it a lot,

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