As a fallen angel,

wings stripped of their feathers

by the demons from my mind’s hell

my strength slowly withers.

But I will rebuild my wings

with every new feather

adds a new page to the rings

that bind my book of leather.

This book of mine

tells the story of redemption

over the course of time

as I battle my depression.

The demons take my pen

and tell me to just stop trying,

to just give in

and get busy dying.

However I steal the pen back

before I can doubt

and numb myself black

to block them out.

This book of feathers is my mission

my scarred skin makes its bind

my blood of crimson iron inks its inscription

my bone makes its spine.

By finishing this book before I die

I hope these pages put together

will rebuild my wings and let me fly

so I can show all my book of feathers.

#poetry

#writing

#challenge

She’s born of grace

She’s born of lust

A lovely face

I’d love to trust

Her face to hold

Her lips to kiss

Her heart to know

Her shape to miss

There was a void in my life

A vacant hole

Meant for her

Shaped like her soul

That void is filled

The world is sweet

Now that I’ve found her

My life’s complete

We used to look

For monsters

In our closets

Or under our beds

Silly us!

What innocent children

To not realize they lived in our heads

It’s always been

my earnest opinion

that people don’t change.

But sometimes

you see someone,

And they’re just

Different.

Your son comes

home from war,

and he’s different.

Your mother walks out

of the funeral home,

and she’s different.

Not how they used to be.

They didn’t change.

I already told you.

People don’t change.

the poor bastards

didn’t change.

They broke.

Check out my poetry collection which is available for free on Amazon at the following link:

https://www.amazon.com/This-Death-Love-Travis-Liebert-ebook/dp/B079WN6GPK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1519318637&sr=8-1&keywords=travis+liebert

Everyday

You destroy me

Walking by

My eyes strain

My heart pumps

Goose bumps form

I salivate

In my mouth

Drooling

Licking my lips

Like steak before me

Delicious

Soft clouds

Bounce into my vision

Lust forms in my eyes

Concentration diminishes

Focusing

On those soft globes

Walking away stunned

Confused

In a day dream of passion

Powerful

Emotional

Lucid thoughts

Rummaging in

My mind

K.j.a. (c) 2017

My eyes don't work the way they used to see,

Straight lines as curves, I watch distorted views;

I cannot tell what's right in front of me.

I look ahead but can't make pole from tree,

The information gathered I can't use;

My eyes don't work the way they used to see.

I have to guess what shapes they ought to be,

From bits and pieces forced in place and glued;

I cannot tell what's right in front of me.

This is a blindness, all must now agree,

Though damage just to one small spot is true;

My eyes don't work the way they used to see.

I'm left to struggle with periphery,

Whose data into sight I cannot fuse;

I cannot tell what's right in front of me.

I was so scared when I first got the news,

To lose my sight my life it then did skew;

My eyes don't work the way they used to see,

I cannot tell what's right in front of me.

[For my mother, who struggles every day.]

#seeahead #challenge #poetry #villanelle #AMD

(c) 2017 Miriam Ruff

She waits.

In a thick cloud of confusion.

Hands blistered from the heavy work of love.

Years spent hanging on the lips of bricks.

Alternately chipping and cursing away at them.

The promise, scorning her efforts through an occasional crack.

Mind tangled in vines of honor and pride.

Deaf to the sound of her own soul,

Urging her to climb down.

Heart smothered and suffocating,

Screaming for tenderness and truth.

The echoes of her tired voice

Eroding the void once belonging to hope.

The silence, initially welcome,

Proves louder and more piercing than any

Bounced back word sprung from her mouth.

She relents.

Admitting defeat, seeks a way down

From the wall that she for so long adorned.

Clinging desperately to the ivy that nearly consumed her, she lowers herself.

Feet relishing the now foreign soil

Beg for movement and warmth.

She stands frozen, trying to remember why she was climbing in the first place.

Her fear stashed mightily into the backpack haphazardly slung over her shoulder,

She sets off in search of light and love.

The shadow of her former commitment ominously engulfing her.

From the darkness whispers a familiar voice and an outstretched hand.

Offering her a home within his heart and an infinite flame which she may use to rekindle her own.

She accepts and follows him bravely to the sun kissed river banks.

Disrobed and disoriented, she inventories the many scars carved into her soul from years

Spent dusty and crooked on the wall.

He tends her wounds and unravels her heart.

Falling into the home of each other's arms,

Dreaming of endless time and invincible love, they doze in and out of slumber.

Hopelessly unaware of the vultures

circling above.

Savage calls beckon her from dream to nightmare.

Fear, slinking its way out through the zipper of her backpack, winds itself around her neck.

Dizzy from the years long ride of defeat,

Drowning in the depths of self doubt,

Her panic voraciously gnawing at her,

She flings her heart into the air as a sacrifice to her still sleeping savior.

But when she turns back to him, she finds nothing but a wall.

This time made of stone and created by the hands of a masterful mason.

She marvels at its intricacy, beauty,

And sheer size.

But wonders where her love has gone.

And then.

She notices it.

The flickering light of her twin's flame tempting her from the other side.

Closing her eyes, she presses her tear soaked cheek to the cold stone wall.

She's learned not to climb or clamor at such a structure.

So,

She waits.

Committed to filling the encircling moat with the salty solution of love and loss.

Perhaps the rising waters will carry her over.

And even if they don't,

She'll gladly drown in them to honor him.

Surrender.

Be tender.

Give way to your heart.

Glisten.

Just listen.

Tend kindly the spark.

Beware.

Please take care.

Keep from falling apart.

Stop.

Let it drop.

Light can't live without dark.

Quiet.

No riot.

Let not fear keep you there.

Alight.

Take your flight.

Find great peace in the air.

Soar.

Weep no more.

You have nothing to spare.

Shine.

Take your time.

Be yourself, if you dare.

The undercurrent betrays my might.

Ferocious waves that quell my fight.

Storm clouds obscure and drown my sight.

Until when?

Until then.

When I forfeit what's right.

Then, hush.

It all stops.

Fingers reaching for light.

Slip slowly.

And unseen.

Into seas dark as night.

The ripples erased.

Leaving nary a trace.

Into the deepest, most peaceful, 

safe place. 

Purple pours over ashen skies

Doused by distant rain

Moody and wild, unkempt on the ocean

Where waves roll like reluctant children

Angry to sleep, eager to persist

On beaches that steal your breath

In forests that quench depths

Of your soul, unhindered by any man made goal

But societies try, you have the stereotypes to deny

Capitalism has its eye on paradise

But you'd do well to refuse its advances

Ignore the posterity of perceived wealth

And soak in natures riches

Snapshots of experience

Away from the mundane

I hear distant rhythms of societies din

Parties of celebration and social sin

Where we can all fit in

Everyone loves a good tune

Beach fires under an almost full moon

Tribal and unrestrained by rule or law

Sunset celebrations at our core

Stories to score

Too many tequilas have me at the mercy of my thoughts

Where I devour the ambience

Live in the glow of the sun going down

To nocturnal birdsong and breaking waves

And how humanity plays

Under a tequila sunset...

© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.