[x]

LonelyI look at the stars
Hoping to see something
Looking back at me.

But its just echoes
Of dead and dying
Suns and worlds.

Nothing's listening,
Nothing's speaking,
Nothing really cares.

There is no design,
No grand plans to
Make the universe spin.

There's only darkness,
Suffocating and cold,
Consuming the light.

Resting In NatureGreen leaves, soft wind,

The gentle whisper of the breeze.

Frogs croak, Birds sing,

The water reflects the warmth of the Sky.

Calm breathing, light sighing,

The boy and the girl lie calmly in the grass.

Midday Mildness, Soft shade,

Trees provide the greatest shields.

Light shifting, kind yawning,

The Lovers stir in their sleep.

A summer day to never forget.

A nature orchestra providing the lightest music.

A day shared, Hands linked,

The lovers sleep in peace.

ugly hungerI.

the wolf in her
heart is whimpering
like a pup hungry
for pure milk
but all it is given
is blood--thick
and warm in a
foreign way
one that isn't the
love of a mother
or love of any kind.
II.
in the dry shade
lies the beast of eden,
her heavy jaw slack
from gnawing rotten
fruit and he is saying
with sweet, red skin
between his teeth
she was asking for it--
how her thin fingers
wrapped and pulled
and plucked at the forbidden-
ness, this is no confession
he hisses like the snake
in his heart.
III.
we are all victims
says god

On days like thisOn days like this,
I like to think
About just how lucky I am.

How lucky I am
To have food
And a roof over my head.

How lucky I am
To have a beating heart
And air in my lungs.

How I lucky I am
To even have been born.
Imagine...

Out of every sperm and egg,
And every unknown miscarriage,
I survived. We all did.

That in itself is amazing.
Then add on that life itself
Is amazing and wonderful.

How many systems
Must work in tandem
To keep me alive?

If one single DNA strand
Were to replicate wrong
My life would be irreparably damaged.

If my temperature is off
By just the variance between in and out,
I die.

These things astound me.
Every c

the weather latelywhen i tilt my glass up,
dregs of iced tea powder
become an orange starscape,
an eclipse wrought with holes;
summer, beautiful and searing.

Lookingwhy do we as human beings
ignore what is placed before us
at our feets
in our hearts

i want to be apart of nature
dissolve into the endless stretch
of baby blue skies
lift off in nimbus clouds

and when i want
gently float back down

ReptileBy design, I survive hiding, quiet;
carnivorous.
I am my fangs, or my claws, or my muscle;
alien from accepted.

Please, do not forget,
my cold blood seeks heat.

The softness of scales surprises the skin
of ignorant fingers.

RandomSiren sing me that beautiful
song of love, death and tragedy.
of war that was outplaced by love
are other things. Oh siren sing me
that song that has kept you singing,
the song that kept you breathing, the
song that every man, woman and child
would like to hear.

The Little BirdI used to have a bird

He sat on my shoulder

His songs comforted me day and night

Every time I opened his cage my heart filled with delight

For he was my only company

But then one day he flew out the window

I shouted and called his name

Until the night was gone

Sometimes if I play a song he would come to me

But when he did not come my eyes filled with tears

For I thought he had gone to the place in the sky

At least he was in a good place if he was or was he?

After days of not finding him I gave up and sat with a piece of bread

My eyes were bloodshot from nights of looking

Then I heard something familiar, was it him?

True enough

LacusSunlight glistens off the top of the lake;
Fish swim beneath the cool, crystal waters,
And the wind chops at the surface,
Breaking, for a moment, the reflection
Of the azure ocean above.

Morning CallMorning Call
Sudden shower
Lying half-awake in bed
The soft, tender form of my darling touching me
To my delight, the trill of the bugle
The tumult of the rifles
Had been stilled by the rain
The only sound i heard
Through the soft, quiet swish of my fan
Was the soft and silent swish of the late summer rain
I lay in bed to listen
Until 9 AM

light is dark and dark is lightHave you eaten from the fruits of insanity?
have you not yet bitten into the bitter sweet fruit of sins that lay upon truth?
or are you still living in the safety of a lye,
for I have moved on
while you are still hiding in the blackness of the day
I am bathing under the light of the shade
and though you are blind by the hellish suns rays
I can see
So I will take you by the hand and lead your wandering soul down the proper path of darkness
not the path of son and truth but the path of lies death and gloom
for this is the path of safty
this path was built for you...

Let Loose.
She's ripping her jeans off at the thighs.Pulling out her hemp flip flops.
Bikinis under tank tops are tied.Preparing for the heat of summer.
She dances with the breeze, and runs to the sea. With a free laugh in she jumps.
Waves crash overhead, but she knows how to tread the trails of this old friend.
That girl is on the loose again.
Bare skin on sand, shoes dangle in hand. Her hair dripping with salt water.
She falls on the beach and looks at her feet. White sand is coating like sugar.
She lays her head back and starts to relax,to the sounds of her soothing ocean.
Breathing in the scent of salt drying on sun warmed skin.
That

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More from ^Beccalicious

First Lovei.

Our bench:
rows of fairy lights rope
towards the turbulent city

Warm evenings, playing in the park,
till your mam came shouting .
Every night of summer.

You never cared how different we were.

ii.

Toilet paper decorates leafless trees and
your lungs fill with newly discovered smoke as
You admire your handiwork.
The sexes split. You tease
the girls for attention.

iii.

Those amber lights merely rows
upon rows of ugly terraces all designed by the same architect.

We never talk.

iv.

You were seen
with your hands
down her trousers

tomorrow you will blame intoxication.

v.

Under the red skies, we exchanged memories like

Threadbare Doll

Playing with threadbare doll,
Hestia waits
along a dusty path of rubble and dim lights.
The child hums, sweetly,
her own rhythmic fantasy adhered;
absent from the night of gunfire and blood.

High above on waning clouds
the Goddess is weeping;
she reaches for the girl--
the hearth of home is extinguished.
And the threadbare doll
has pleasure as she dances
between little grey pebbles
and the hands of the child.

Playing with threadbare doll,
Hestia waits
The child will soon see her.
The barefoot child with dirty
dress and dirty face crouched
over the ballroom floor
listening to invisible song.

Child, let me lift

Catkuwrimo 2009

1.

witnessed by stars
cheshire cat
smiles

2.

snow discovery!
kitten dislikes
cold taste

3.

lolling by fire
paws tickle
warm air

4.

mew from kitchen--
empty bowl, again

5.

a cat does not
appreciate
delicate rose petals

6.

window protection
the cat watches
curious world

7.

Little black cat,
lily pollen:
orange stripe

8.

wicked claws strike
on unsuspecting terrier.

9.

slumbering prowess:
it’s a hard
life

10.

yellow eyes yearn,
paw pads
koi pool waters

Little Paper UmbrellaLittle 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.

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Snowflakes Journey

by ^Beccalicious, Feb 20, 2010, 9:49:09 AM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

Frost licks every twig
every blade, topping roofs
with Jack-glitter. Minus
degrees attract
her grey mantle; inhaling
pure ether as she comes.

Sisters float beside me-
let the goddess' gentle
winds brush me; guide me down
to him..

I crafted you with a silver pin
Etching unique patterns. Cherish
your aura,
for he will adore you.

The goddess whispered:
"Snow powders you tonight, find one flake"
My roots tingled with excitement, no
longer shrivelled cold. As skies
turned silver, natures pulse
echoed my entirety.

He presents to me--
each crisp grass blade stands to
attention. I hope he knows
the steps.

She lands--
resting on me, content;
seeping, she melts.

Snowflakes Journeyby ^Beccalicious

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

for `PoeticWar's workshop on multiple voices at #Writers-Workshop

inspired as walking to work in the snow yesterday.

Apologies for my lame attempts at poetry.

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

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*jamberry-song Jul 11, 2011 Professional General Artist

I think it's rather pretty. I chose this one because of its Pagan overtones; the goddess of winter, Green Man's welcome to her. I really adore this bit:

I crafted you with a silver pin
Etching unique patterns. Cherish
your aura,
for he will adore you.

Although I did notice in the third to last stanza, "turned silver, natures pulse"---I think you meant "nature's pulse" there. I think you succeeded at creating distinct voices in this one.

`Itti Mar 24, 2010 Hobbyist General Artist

Some beautiful imagery in here. I like "topping roofs / with Jack-glitter".

~white-snow Feb 27, 2010 Writer

Wow, absolutely beautiful, if I must say so. The imagery and simple language provide a poignant picture - and it doesn't help that I was listening to a beautiful song while reading your poem. The whole feeling that I got from the poem was this sense of magicality, if you know what I mean. This is certainly not a lame attempt at poetry, I assure you.

It's a bit confusing how you start off talking about Frost and then saying later on in the same stanza:

Minus degrees attract
her grey mantle; inhaling
pure ether as she comes.

It took me a few times to understand who 'she' was, since you are consistent in referring to Frost as a he. I think that you should write something into that stanza to allude to who 'she' is. I believe that would help in clearing any confusion one may get from reading the first stanza.

You did very well in showing the change in speakers. Personifying Frost was a neat idea. You may or may not be a religious person - and if you're not, please don't take offense - but as I continued reading on and got to the line 'I crafted you with a wilver pin', I suddenly made a connection of Frost being God, if you will, and the snowflakes being God's children - us, as you may well know. Just an observation and personal insight on your poem.

Thanks for giving me the chance to read this piece of work. It was absolutely beautiful. Keep it up!

~white-snow Feb 27, 2010 Writer

Oops, that's supposed to be 'silver pin', not 'wilver pin'. Typo.

~Tisala Feb 25, 2010 Hobbyist General Artist

Beautiful, hun! You've brought forth an image I will always cherish... Being Canadian, I love the snow, not necessarily the cold, but when that snow falls... You've captured its essence and given it a voice >_> or three...

Hopefully, I'll be able to come back and give you a more thorough critique tomorrow, though I don't really think you need one.

~BelovedFenrir Feb 21, 2010 Hobbyist

I thought this was really nicely done, though I certainly had to double back. "I crafted you with a silver pin/Etching unique patterns. Cherish/ your aura,/for he will adore you." Is a really nice image. I agree with Aqua-rat, that sense of care is not done much with the cold and it produces a good effect.

*somnomollior Feb 21, 2010 Writer

I found it hard to follow the first time I read it, but after finding from your comments that it was many voices, the second reading gave me no problem. My favourite parts are the opening and, especially, the ending which is very romantic. It is pleasingly refreshing to look at snow and frost and extreme cold in such a positive and delightful way.

~thefarawayperson Feb 20, 2010

Love the descriptions. (Jack-glitter

)

The first stanza is a bit confusing.

...with Jack-glitter. Minus
degrees attract
her grey mantle;

It seems unusual that you've put "minus" in the previous line. Unless you wanted to accentuate that word. I think the way you have the next phrase running over to the next line does work, but only before commas/semicolons, not after full stops. Sorry, did that make any sense?

After reading it for the first time, I immediately assumed frost was an object, not personified, so I thought " whose grey mantle?". I had to double back.
Maybe she could be a Lady Frost

There's such a sense of peace to this poem. It seems a world away from me; it's summer over here

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