the loom (Day 11 - an object)

Warped some years ago
The loom sits,
Waiting patiently
For the weaver to return,
Beckoning me from
My place of unreality,
Inviting me to enter back
Into the realm of my dreams.

Day 10 - Good Friday

Good Friday



“Were you there when they crucified my Lord?”

The tears fell
Intermingled with the rain
The girl on her knees
Pain pouring
From her eyes
The thunder crashed
Lightning ripped across the sky
As the veil was torn
And the way became clear.

“Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble…”

When i have fears

When I have fears that wish to bring me down
Before I can get the nerves to tell thee
A’fore the great multitude of people shown
Quietly I speak thy name and wake from dream

When I behold myself in the dizzy light
Shaking with the fear, I come walking to you
And think that I can no longer stand upright
Knees knocking, hagg’red breath drawn in I speak my piece

The Bee poem

I was out here writing POETRY
When I was struck by a BEE
It happened while I was sitting under a TREE
Oh crap! Another BEE
I was just a sitting to see what I could SEE
Ouch! Another Bee
I tried to think to of a word with a daring D
Dang nab it! Another BEE
No clouds I the sky as far as the eye could SEE
Crud! Another BEE
Now for a word with a with powerful P
Oh man! Another bee
Smash!!! I got that bee
Do you want to see

Euphonious Harmony

Whoosh!!!
In the prismatic display of glory.
Angelic wings Spread wide,
She entices….
Faith
In pleasing exhilaration.
That beauteous energy,
Whose sight is welcomed,
To the eye.

The United States

Rocky….
King of the Mountain

To Balls bluff Easter Island

Beware
Of the
Killer
Jellyfish

Incredibly well equipped

The Sausage Guy
ate leftovers on the run

Imagine maligned, devilish and silky smooth

What Happens in Vegas
stays.

typewriter

i walk in for the first
time since i left that day
dust still on the letters.
i've wanted so badly to
feel them beneath my fingers.
To type a paper, a sentence,
or just a word.
i try to remember why
i ran away in the first place,
why i left everything i loved behind;
my family.
my nice warm bed.
and my typewriter.

PAD1

It starts from birth,
The labels, stereotypes, and categories.
It starts from birth.

When born
You are given a name.

When you get to Elementary School,
You gain a nickname.

When you enter Jr. High,
You take your middle name as your first.

When you drag yourself into High School,
You get labeled like a can.

Prep
Goth
Emo
Jock

It goes on.
And on.

No way to stop it,
You are labled.
You are given a name,
A group.

It all starts at birth,
You can’t choose
What people call you.
You can’t choose
What people think of you.

It doesn’t end at death.
You can’t choose what name they put on the tombstone.
You can’t choose what THEY
Describe you as.

It all starts at birth,
It doesn’t even end at death.

hey look snow

Hey Look Snow

Small white flurries…….. SNOW!
They won’t last long you know,
Frigid on skin.
Enduring out there in my shirt,

I look up toward the skies,
And to my surprise
It comes and pelts me in the eyes
It stings at first,
But only a little.

I open my mouth to quench my thirst,
And then that flurry burst,
Just stopped……….
To be continued……but probably not

Two months later, on down the road.
Down I went, a splattered toad
I skimmed the ice
My common sense would not suffice,
I tried to adjust but to no avail.

There I fell,
I went down fast,
And busted my “face.”
My dog ran off, I just stayed.
Nursing my behind, who had seen more gracious days.

Lifting myself up cursing,
The small white flurries of snow.
Reminding myself,
They won’t last long you know.

finally

He’s dead,
Finally.
This place,
On he horse,
Finally.
The others did
Help me, but no one
Has to know that

I have this hatchet,
Yeah they have
More weapons,
More people
But I can reach
Right down and
Grab the dead guys
Guns and sword.

The horse is ready
To start running
On my signal,
After just a few
Swipes across their
Necks, and just a
Little jump on
To the horse.

And then I’ll be
Home free.
Finally.

Unless,
They catch can on to
My plan first.

Iron Angel

This iron-clad giant
Rusty and wrapped in filth
Tired of living this lie
So he spreads his wings, and
Lifts his hands in surrender
Iron Angel

Woman - Ekphrastic Poem

Woman -

Who is this woman?
Clad in silk and finery,
With an icy blue stare.

She is a thief’s flame.
Clad in stolen gold and lace.
In a hidden safe-house.

She is a duke’s child.
Clad in the fruits of his labor.
Without worry or want.

She is a schoolmarm.
Clad in a hand-me-down dress.
An altruistic soul.

She is a woman,
Clad in silk and finery,
With an icy blue stare.



Hayden Russell

Socrates's Demise

"This is an outrage, an
Abomination", cries the man.
"Refusing to recognize the Gods
Recognized by the state, and how
Dare they accuse me of corrupting the youth!
Slave, retrieve the hemlock poison,
The drink of death, my fate.
Yes, bring it here to me.
Those of you who gather here in mourning
Watch as I taint my body, mouth, throat
With this ungodly substance"

Community

The marketplace is fresh with life.
Food's aplenty, as well as smiles.
Children play, mothers gossip, fathers bargain.
So many stories to tell.
But yet, isn't there only really one.

The Tree

The tree flies with grace.
Leaves blow like a fresh new hope.
The moon smiles on it.

Victory

France is ours again.
The mass of bodies pile up.
Blood litters the ground.

Tyrants are now dead,
says the steaming, putrid air.
Our flag waves proudly.

I see a friend dead.
For freedom is never free.
But it's worth the price.

Dirty poems Day 7

People looked at her sideways
As if she were something a little queer
When she happily confessed her fondness for dirt,
Bewilderment registering in their eyes
That she, a molder of minds, was
Impassioned by the feel, the smell, the possibilities of soil.

It seemed to make the men uncomfortable
That she asked to go fishing with them
Or volunteered to help mend the asphalt
Or contribute to the masonry of the house.

They weren’t sure if they should humor her
Or just pretend like it never happened
And simply hope she went back to tasks
More appropriate for her sex
Than those of cultivating life, nourishing souls,
Mending the broken, and building a home.

ME

Down in Flordia
Only children themselves
they made a child
in the room where
the pool table sits

On the Outside Looking In

all the secrets now revealed
I see now
what could have been
on the outside
looking in

I see you with her
a child in your arms
a smile on your face

I should have never let you go
but i thought it was for the best

I see now
i was wrong
on the outside
looking in

The problem with you and me

The probelm with you and me is that your a liar.
you tell me that you love me.
who else do you use that charm on
Haley?
Brandy?
Hannah?
When I'm away from you
your unfaithful
I don't wanna be the girl
you run to when she cheating on you
So do me a favor
and don't come back
when you see these tears
fall

(April 2nd Prompt - outsider)

“You ain’t from ‘round cher, is ya?”

Because I can speak it but don’t
Because I got roots in the shore but grow in the hills
Because I’ve been around the world and will go again

No, I ain’t from ‘round cher,
But my heart calls this place home.

(Day 1 Prompt - Origins)

They celebrated that year
In a lone star state
Without kin, pines, or the smell of the sea

Landlady on rooftop
Armed with shotgun
Popping off armadillos,
Daddy launching arrows
At unsuspecting
Raiding omnivores.
Mama laughing at Pandy herding cattle
And wondering which alien soil
They would be led to next

The scent of skunk in the air,
The fire of jalapeños on the breath
The call of coyotes in the clear December night

And I was there,
A quiet secret,
Waiting patiently within.

Untitled

I will lift you
up on wings like eagles, angels.
I will carry you above
the turbulent, hateful, evil waters
the world has thrown
at you.
You are the puppet
and I am the master; you stumble
and fall, yet I will always scoop you back up, holding your hand.
I will remove this filth, dirt, tarnish, that
covers your body and mind and soul, so
that you can become clean and pure
White as snow.
Be still My child, and know that I am

Creator

I created the earth and the heavens.
I created the hundreds of billions of stars
That smile down upon you in the darkest of nights.
I created the mountains, valleys, rivers, fjords,
Oceans, plains, deltas, rainforests, and the deserts.
I imagined and brought forth every animal that walks this Earth.
I breathed life into you, and made you special and unique.
And guess what?
That came from a God who loves you.

nightmares

That look of pure… animosity
It flares in his extorting eyes
Incineration from his breath.
Wrapped in the paranoia
From the enmity of your host.
Apocalyptic enigmas
Deteriorate your mind
The Devil sends annihilation
The Basilisk, The Dragon
Constricting,
Crunching,
Wrapping,
Writhing,
Killing.

Stain-glass windows whirl

Dancing to the cheerful music

And without a care.

me me me me me me me me me

I don’t suppose
That the difference
Is all that
Astounding. Cynical, mean-spirited,
Outgoing. They view
Me as those
Things maybe. I
Guess they are
Partly correct but
I view myself
As reserved. I
Never bring my
Deeper emotions out.
I guess I
Am just shy
Like that. But
I do know
That possibly, deep
Deep down, like
Deep deep deep
Down, there is
And amazing amount
Of compassion waiting
To be released.
But then again,
I doubt it.

some poem about how i don't enjoy christianity or religion in general

Christianity is the only religion.
We are the disciples of God.
We creep through the shadows,
Our greedy eyes glistening.
We want more blood,
We want more money,
We want more slaves.
We have sharpened our saintly teeth
To a pinprick’s point,
So that when we all bite into you,
Blood blood blood.
Our soothing voices, our endearing smiles,
Our searing hate, our tar filled hearts,
Our wars, our bloodlust.
We are the disciples of God.
We are here to kill your world.

ascent

I
Am climbing
The mountain, striving
For the summit, for awakening.
Make me pure, through my self,
The self. I will become pure.
Virtue, my birthright and obligation.
I will not fall, I do not fall. I will
Make this count, I will earn this, I
Rise through cracks made jagged by years
Of caked-on pain and hardship. So near, perfection, so near.
I WILL NOT FALL.

doll with a cicada

I am a doll with
A cicada in my hand.
My wife disapproves.

Mirror

Fun-house mirror;

Distorted by bias,

Warped by the ego.

What is this I see?

But a startling image of me.

Who am I?

Handheld mirror.

Held low, I seem tall.

Held high, I seem small.

Changed in relation,

To preference and station.

Who are you?

this doesn't make any sense either

Hey you
Are you sad
What are you going to do

I heard you got the flu
That you are feeling bad
Hey you

Is there a rock in your shoe
Or is it all a fad
What are you going to do

Are you going to sue
Or will you be glad
Hey you

Are you just a few
Or are you just mad
What are you going to do

A car or house, bought new
Now something barely had
Hey you
What are you going to do?

Nails

Inch by agonizing
Inch the nails
Sink deeper into
His hands and
Feet, bounding
Him to the
Cross. Blood
And sweat
Run down
His face from
Their origin, the brow
Of thorns, which pierce
His perfect, flawless skin. Paying
The ultimate price in
Return for our
Salvation and freedom
“It is Finished”

if i had wings

i wish
i had wings. so
that i can fly away from
this place, never come back again. i
would go down south, to florida, so
that i could finally feel the sun beat down
on me. or maybe go across the
pacific ocean, just
to see my re-
flec- tion

this doesn't make any sense

Dogs scribbling dull essays in green
A flawed blank starving boy
Apathy warming the mind with vast
Predictable notions of shouting your
Name out to the sun and the moon
But neither respond because why

I do not respond at all when asked why
The sky is blue and not green
Or why we cannot reach the moon
Or why I am such a dull boy
Now they ask you why your
Sight is frighteningly vast

A mind as miniscule as it is vast
And asking a question as potent as why
And why you take your
Time to turn all the blue to green
And why you turn from man to boy
Whose face is scarred like the moon

I am a pattern of said moon
Whose craters and depths are vast
But boy oh boy
And answer to my why
Would simply tickle me green
And make all the difference in your

Guilt ridden excuse for you
Empty beliefs in the sun and moon
My pastures are much more green
And my caves are much more vast
And there is no why
And there is no how, not here boy

Once things are established, boy
You can begin on your
Great journey to find out why
A terrible cataclysm tore the moon
Right our of the vast
Sky and why it turned it all green

So when asked why by the boy
I say green and leave it at your
Discretion moon, who are so terribly vast.

The Good, the Bad, and THE Kyle

I continue to stare at
the deceptive, grinning
thin necked kid who wears
glasses across the room.

What's that dumb guy
looking at me for? I
should have planned
for this! It's stressing me out.

Look at those two idiots
staring at each other.
Only I know what they are
both really thinking. HAHAHA!!!

Earth's Night Light

I watch
Silently as you denizens sleep,
Resting your heavy eyes, and your tired minds;
Dreams dancing around in your small little heads. My
Sister, Solaris, once told me that I am like a giant nightlight
That God put in The sky. I am like a floodlight that waxes and
Wanes slowly overtime, changing shape, size and position; my own
Personal circadian rhythm. Ohh, hello. Yes, I can see you looking up at
Me, a look of pure awe spreading slowly across you pale while face. I ha
ve always dreamed of what it might be like to look up and beholds someone
as handsome as I. To examine my cracks, wrinkles, mountains and valleys,
All of my facial features that I take great pride in. I am better looking than
Solaris, because unlike her, you can look up at me and still use your eyes
Afterwards. I cast light down upon your dark, silent world. But alas,
My job is never-ending, and perpetual. I am to illuminate the
Darkness that temporarily plagues your world. Do I ever get tired
Ed? Well, of course! I mean, I am a person afterall. Ohh
How I long to go to sleep in the morning when Sola-
Ris comes to relieve me. Then I too will
Go to sleep, if only for a while

Someday

Each star, a small
Tiny luminary, the
Hope that I cling to
Which tells me there is
Something far greater than me
Out there waiting
For the day when
We will meet face to face.
Someday

Chauffeur

Always grinning with a peachy demeanor. His compatriots always glow at his calm peace. This is the hallmark of his golden job.

Ukalele

The screeching sound makes me vomit as the ugly, uneducated piece if garbage plays the terrible instrument. The redneck scrunches down while he chaws the slimy sardines.

life at the zoo

A zebra smells his
Butt
Cause it smells like a
Donkey, that eats the
Elephants peanuts.that makes the elephant
Frustrated, but the
Giraffe tries to make the elephant
Happy,but
it does not work.
just then the
kangaroo tries to
leap over the
moon, but he
never makes it
over. when the
panda bear
quitswatching, she
runs to the
starting place
to win the
ulitimate race;
victory is hers!
what ever you do dont let the
xylophone make a sound or it will make you
yell for the
ZEBRA

The Death of A Dream

My face lies bloody in the ring.
How did I get here to such a place?
Can I place it to one single thing?

I grew up poor, my father giving my face regular sting.
One day I stumbled upon his old trophy case.
My face lies bloody in the ring.

I once played baseball, but had an imperfect swing.
After school one day, I stumbled upon a wondrous place.
A boxing trainer’s gym, named “Bada Bing”.

He liked me a lot and tried me out in the ring.
I was a natural, regularly coming in first place.
My face lies bloody in the ring.

I began fighting professionally, I thought I had wings.
Many times, my mouth was left with a very bad taste.
I became world champion, developing many a fling.

But someone came along, casting a shadow in my beam.
I couldn’t resist a fight with him. What a waste.
My face lies bloody in the ring.
Maybe, someday, again I’ll be king.

Halloween Villanelle!

So dark, so dank, so frightful of a night!
With gabbing goblins, and greedy ghouls,
Our candy bowls are in quite a plight!

I wait in a re-sewn costume, as the old one was quite
Too tight! As the doorbell rings, and vampires appear, candy my hand doles.
So dark, so dank, so frightful of a night!

As I gaze out, bathed the streets are in orange light,
Walking bed sheets, rapaciously pillaging candy bowls,
Our candy bowls are in quite a plight!

And finally, from dry ice fog, emerges a terrible blight!
A latex creature, one of so many ghouls.
So dark, so dank, so frightful of a night!

A mottled green hand, stretched across a human hand tight.
Crafted by other, more masterful hands, with rubber-cutting tools.
Our candy bowls are in quite a plight!

He claims from my bowl a handful of candy, his face hidden from sight.
And it was only later that I learned, it was my brother, and other fools.
So dark, so dank, so frightful of a night……Our candy bowls are in quite a plight!

- Hayden Russell

Cacophony

The Beast
By Jessica Williams

Lurid Images enter her mind,
as the callous beast taunts her.
The apathetic beast cutting into her soul,
mocking her every dream, digging her coffin sized hole.
Ignominy engulfs her every being.
Pessimistic thoughts invade her,
repeatedly.
This menace, the beast,
he drains her of all hope.
The beast claims her as his slave.
Shattered and weak, unable to be saved.
The girl lies down to die.
For thats the only way she may stay alive.

What I see vs. What other people see poem

Mirror
By Jessica Williams


When I look in the mirror,
I see me.
The reddish hair and blue eyes,
my smile and thoughts.
I can see through my
skin and into my heart,
looking into who I really am.
Then I hear a giggle,
looking through the window.
She looks through the glass
to my face
Screening me from head to waist.
All she sees is what's on display.
Not the true characteristics that
make up me.
Just a personless body is all she sees.

Shape poem

His Flashlight
Shined through
My bedroom
Window. That
Was when every
Thing was good.
Even through the
Summer storms
He stood outside
Shining his light.
Without his light, I could not see. Without his light, I wouldn’t be.
Day break came and I got confused. I thought I didn’t need his light
Anymore. I thought the sun was good enough. I thought I could
Depend on it. I bought some window shades and lived on. Then it
Then it was the rain
That began to pour.
I looked for the shine
Of his light. It wasn’t
There. I thought he
Had left me, I cried in
Despair. And it was
Then that I remembered.
The window was
Blocked. My heart
Was blocked, my sight
Was blocked too.
I ran to the window
And tore the shades
Off my window.
He hadn’t forgotten
Me, he hadn’t left.
He stood through the
Rain and the shine.
I never again will
Block his light, even
if the sun seems bright.

DEATH
The sound of silence fills the
the room as death hangs and lingers in the air
Its smell its taste and its feel
Wheezing and the coughing
And then sudden quiet fills the room
As the reaper comes, holds out his hand
As an invitation for what Spirit is waiting for
He feels the remaining threads that would hold
This man to the cruel earth, slowly he
Slices those few thin threads that
Remain he lifts the soul gently
And speaks soothing words as if to
A newborn child to stop the crying
And slowly floats away into the sky
-Alex Killen

Inside Outside

Outside
The wind howls
And the sky roars
Filling itself with flashes of white fire
Droplets of
Greed
Envy
Hatred
Sin
Fall from the dark
Turbulent sky,
Water bombs that
Violently explode on impact
Flooding, tainting the earth
Satan
Devil
The Fallen Angel
One way

Inside
The crackling fire
Burns a beacon of hope, radiating
Hope
Warmth
Trust love
Filling the quiet atmosphere
With a burning desire to know more
About Him, to
Love more
Feel more
Freedom from the outside world
Freedom to live again
Redeemer
Alpha and Omega
Another way

What will you choose?
Inside or Outside

My purple Blanket
I have this purple blanket.
It was a gift from my grandma,
There’s no way to tell how much I’ll miss it.

My blanket is very special to me, it
Reminds me of so much, like my papa
I have this purple blanket

It feels like it’s my ticket
To heaven, to meet my deceased grandpa
There’s no way to tell how much I’ll miss it

My blanket is so different,
So unique to me, since it was made by my grandma
I have this purple blanket

I remember crying to it when I got hit,
Or when someone told me that I looked like I should ca,
There’s no way to tell hoe much I’ll miss it

I will feel sad a bit,
When I have to give it away or when it tears.
I have this purple blanket
There’s no way to tell how much I’ll miss it

Fears Poem

When I have fears.....

When I have fears that turn me pale,

Before my ultimate death,

Before I have any chance to fail,

I give up with regret.

When I behold the pain of fear,

I get the suffocating feeling that myself isn't I.

And think that I am about to die.

Sliding down my cheeks, a tear.

And when I feel the monster breathe down my back.

An unstoppable feeling overcomes me, death.

Never concentrate on what you lack,

fear feeds off of sorrow and prevents dreams from being met.

When I have fears that suffocate me,

I no longer want to be.