LadyOfBirds
Poet. Dreamer. Tea-drinker. Lady of birds.
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Written by LadyOfBirds

Insomnia

My body is too aware at night. Sounds stream in and out of my ear for what feels like eternity. It starts off at midnight and next thing I know it's 5 in the morning. 

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Written by LadyOfBirds
Insomnia
My body is too aware at night. Sounds stream in and out of my ear for what feels like eternity. It starts off at midnight and next thing I know it's 5 in the morning. 
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Write about your worst one-nighter.
Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Romance & Erotica

Etched

I've kept a lot of my pride

behind the mirror

Who said it was trick 

or a tactic to hide my fear?

Poison is sweet when drunk

at first taste, but giving too much

is a sorry, sad waste

It's like finding a home for

your tongue to roam

and letting your hands play the game

a scene that always feels the same

He cuts right through me

a knife-blade reflection that follows you after

you sit and listen to his drunken laughter 

and watch the shouts rebound off the molding rafters

It seems to be a moment where time stops for awhile

and shattered bones are masked by a foreign clothes pile

The mattress is too soft for your liking

it caresses you in every way you hate

and it carries your shape 

in the morning light

when the bright-winged bird

jumps out to take flight

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Write about your worst one-nighter.
Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Romance & Erotica
Etched
I've kept a lot of my pride
behind the mirror

Who said it was trick 
or a tactic to hide my fear?

Poison is sweet when drunk
at first taste, but giving too much
is a sorry, sad waste

It's like finding a home for
your tongue to roam
and letting your hands play the game
a scene that always feels the same

He cuts right through me
a knife-blade reflection that follows you after
you sit and listen to his drunken laughter 
and watch the shouts rebound off the molding rafters

It seems to be a moment where time stops for awhile
and shattered bones are masked by a foreign clothes pile

The mattress is too soft for your liking
it caresses you in every way you hate
and it carries your shape 
in the morning light
when the bright-winged bird
jumps out to take flight











#romance  #poetry  #life  #sex  #human 
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Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Bed of Roses

If your mind speaks murder

then your tongue is a knife 

etching lies in everyone's face

and gashing the faceless

No remorse

No heart

Broken bones and roses 

grow in fields and young

boys wield weapons and oppose

peace and all that can heal

and they themselves are victims

to your words

You speak 

but you speak with dagger 

and arrow

and emptiness...

There lies the throne of the empress

adorned with thorn and ivy

where her sword stands strong

and her love is plenty 

She shines mirrors above your head

and blocks out night and day

She lets your words ricochet 

until you have fallen from grief 

and the sorrows that you impose

buried in beds of roses 

broken bones and all

Oh, how the children sing

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Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Bed of Roses
If your mind speaks murder
then your tongue is a knife 
etching lies in everyone's face
and gashing the faceless

No remorse
No heart

Broken bones and roses 
grow in fields and young
boys wield weapons and oppose
peace and all that can heal
and they themselves are victims
to your words

You speak 
but you speak with dagger 
and arrow
and emptiness...

There lies the throne of the empress
adorned with thorn and ivy
where her sword stands strong
and her love is plenty 

She shines mirrors above your head
and blocks out night and day

She lets your words ricochet 
until you have fallen from grief 
and the sorrows that you impose
buried in beds of roses 
broken bones and all

Oh, how the children sing


#poetry 
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Lonely vs Alone
Written by LadyOfBirds

A Facet

Lonely is the window

cracking in cool shade

and memory, jaded and lost 

in pools and ivory forests 

where others souls

no longer dare to roam

Here lies the individual

grown too tall or too old

to be accepted anymore

where he walks to the core of man

and wishes for toleration 

or open-minded communication 

his story, too tragic to be told

but always makes the headlines

Alone is faithful freedom

dancing in the ivory forest

walking frontwards and backwards

because every way leads to the same

circumstances and experiences 

treasured and tucked away until 

the moment is right

Here lies the individual

happy to be singular

without the need for toleration 

by others, who don't always understand

the need to embrace life from within

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Lonely vs Alone
Written by LadyOfBirds
A Facet
Lonely is the window
cracking in cool shade
and memory, jaded and lost 
in pools and ivory forests 
where others souls
no longer dare to roam

Here lies the individual
grown too tall or too old
to be accepted anymore
where he walks to the core of man
and wishes for toleration 
or open-minded communication 
his story, too tragic to be told
but always makes the headlines

Alone is faithful freedom
dancing in the ivory forest
walking frontwards and backwards
because every way leads to the same
circumstances and experiences 
treasured and tucked away until 
the moment is right

Here lies the individual
happy to be singular
without the need for toleration 
by others, who don't always understand
the need to embrace life from within




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Written by LadyOfBirds

She

She always let her heart fly too high...

She knew this because it always came

back singed and tattered

like neglected patchwork dresses buried

beneath the earth's surface

All the marks and burns and scratches

would accumulate upon the fabric of her heart

until it would have to be thrown away

from prolonged flying and sun kisses

She knew she shouldn't have been too carefree

but she couldn't help it

Maybe she's more human now for acknowledging it

She will let her heart fly again, watching it become a silhouette amongst the trees. 

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Written by LadyOfBirds
She
She always let her heart fly too high...

She knew this because it always came
back singed and tattered
like neglected patchwork dresses buried
beneath the earth's surface

All the marks and burns and scratches
would accumulate upon the fabric of her heart
until it would have to be thrown away
from prolonged flying and sun kisses

She knew she shouldn't have been too carefree
but she couldn't help it

Maybe she's more human now for acknowledging it

She will let her heart fly again, watching it become a silhouette amongst the trees. 

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Written by LadyOfBirds

He

He labeled life a mistake

but neatly he folds it within a drawer 

and never lets it see the sun

or let it breathe

or let it drink and eat

he let's defeat run down his body 

painting him

separating him from the rest

knowing he'll never be the best

but knowing he was always the barrier

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Written by LadyOfBirds
He
He labeled life a mistake
but neatly he folds it within a drawer 
and never lets it see the sun
or let it breathe
or let it drink and eat
he let's defeat run down his body 
painting him
separating him from the rest
knowing he'll never be the best
but knowing he was always the barrier

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Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Mindful Murders

I didn't understand 

the tone of your voice

how could you creep into me

and make me feel like I have no choice?

What did you find?

What did you hope to see?

there's so many layers

to go through inside of me

you chose the wrong way

to figure out the mystery

and there's a murder left to solve

as all the evidence dissolves 

into nothing, and that's how you leave it

There's blood stains and fingerprints and injuries

that fill the brink of each and every single memory

a window has been shattered and countless bodies battered

for the sake of the freeing and the freed

What did you see?

What did you accomplish?

am I a victim of the crime 

or am I just your accomplice 

what can I learn from the broken vessels blue

will the curtain someday fall down on you?

all I know is your time is almost through

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Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Mindful Murders
I didn't understand 
the tone of your voice
how could you creep into me
and make me feel like I have no choice?

What did you find?
What did you hope to see?
there's so many layers
to go through inside of me
you chose the wrong way
to figure out the mystery
and there's a murder left to solve
as all the evidence dissolves 
into nothing, and that's how you leave it

There's blood stains and fingerprints and injuries
that fill the brink of each and every single memory
a window has been shattered and countless bodies battered
for the sake of the freeing and the freed

What did you see?
What did you accomplish?
am I a victim of the crime 
or am I just your accomplice 
what can I learn from the broken vessels blue
will the curtain someday fall down on you?
all I know is your time is almost through









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Trident Media Group is the leading U.S. literary agency and we are looking to discover and represent the next bestsellers. Share a sample of your work. If it shows promise, we will be in touch with you.
Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Trident Media Group

Walking Home

She had walked home in the rain that day, clothes and hair sodden, lips blue, and hands shivering within her sweater. Each step she took made her feel as if she were sinking into the earth, and in some ways she was, as her feet fell through mud and muck along her route home. She forgot her umbrella. As she walked, she imagined all her school papers melding together into a pulp of confusion, as words sought refuge in other word's crevices  to make gibberish. She imagined the residue that the paper would leave against the fabric of her bag and started to frown at the idea of scrubbing it off, which was a chore she had already needed to do when she let her pencils loose last week; they left scribble marks, of graphite, in every which way. 

She wandered, even slower, passed the park she used to play in as a child, and watched as children huddled under pavilions to keep dry. This made her smile. All her memories rushed her back to the swing, damp and vandalized, but able and willing to let her body fly off into rainclouds, where, for just a second, the sun would come out to play and she would feel whole again. She opened her eyes, a new person, for she knew the rain was here to cleanse her. Again, she walked by the park, but this time on good terms with her inner child. 

The rain began to lessen. She began to lessen. 

The clothes she wore draped upon her body like a drying rack, making her fit in with the trees, as her limbs and curves were accentuated. She became the trees and the soil. She became the bridge that let sky and earth touch. She became earth. She became an apparition. She was molding into a scene of acceptance and faith. She became what she needed to be. 

Forward, she moved, now closer to her home. She let her hair hang damp on her shoulders with pride and took her sweater off to expose her arms and stomach, something she had been hesitant of doing before. She opened her backpack to confront the mess of papers she knew she had waiting for her. She sculpted each paper into a ball and let it fall into a strangers neglected trashcan. The sweater had then found a home inside the main pocket of her bag. She stopped for a second, for she heard someone call out to her, but from where, she did not know. She stood there, glancing over the street to see if she could find the source of the noise. Nothing. There were birds singing above her head, and there were croaks and calls of frogs at her feet, but no human was in sight. She decided to continue along her path. There were only 3 more blocks left and then she would be in the comforts of her home. Her feet began to grow tired. 

She pondered on about how many times she had taken this path in all her years of attending school. Maybe thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands. She was not quite sure, but she knew it had been many times. Many fights with old friends occurred here. Many moments of walking into clouds of infatuation took place along this road. Many remnants of childhood lay here, where people's boxes, filled with old and broken toys, are set up for those who want, or in some cases need them, for free. She had always kept her old toys in her closet. She couldn't part with them. 

Though she had always seen herself as young and naive, she felt old. In fact, she felt like a feeble, old woman sometimes. She would go through life as if she had already experienced it before and would let things come and go without the need to cling onto whatever it is that presented itself to her. People noticed that about her. She was tolerant and of good nature. She understood life beyond line and shape. She saw with eyes that saw before, and knew, and cultivated, each waking hour of her life like it was written out by hands, ancient and healing. 

Home is two more blocks away. The rain becomes a subtle drizzle. She turns the street and notices the vibrancy of the flowers against the grey backdrop. There were roses and lilies and rows of tulips. There were trees budding with life and promises of sweet, fleshy fruit. She could envision tiny hands collecting the fruit for snacks or baked goods. This, she knew, was one of the most exciting parts of the season. As a child, she would stare at the fruit trees and wonder why they took so long to produce fruit. Her mother would take her by the hand and explain to her that nature needs time to make such delicious foods. It wasn't the same as going to the store and buying the fruit. This fruit was better because it was fresh, but also because it grew from our love, and our love is patient and lasting. She would always remember this. 

As she neared halfway down the block, she took her shoes off. The wet friction of her shoes made it harder for her to walk comfortably. She didn't mind walking in puddles with bare feet. In fact, she found it quite refreshing. The water was crystal clear and reflected her face with such a pristine glow that she felt she was looking into the facet of a diamond. It was hard to look away. 

She was now about to turn onto her street. She carried her shoes in her right hand and her bag in the other. The end of her journey was near. Relief washed over her as she read the street name. She smiled at its simplicity; Ivy Street. She crossed the street and headed off onto the sidewalk that would take her to the driveway. As she started to walk, she realized she had dropped her sweater out of her bag when she took it off before crossing. Quickly, she scurried to go grab it, leaving her shoes on the opposite side of the street. She reached it, but before long, she realized she was on the ground and the sweater was 4 feet away, beneath the tire of a car. Her arm was still out, grasping for it, but she couldn't move anymore. She became immobile. Her legs and body were paralyzed, sprawled out in the middle of road and pinned down by debris and car bits. She then realized, she couldn't see a thing. She could still smell and hear and taste, but she couldn't see her sweater anymore. Then she heard her name called out. Adeline. It was spoken forcefully this time.

The rain had stopped, she observed. The sun had come to play.

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Trident Media Group is the leading U.S. literary agency and we are looking to discover and represent the next bestsellers. Share a sample of your work. If it shows promise, we will be in touch with you.
Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Trident Media Group
Walking Home
She had walked home in the rain that day, clothes and hair sodden, lips blue, and hands shivering within her sweater. Each step she took made her feel as if she were sinking into the earth, and in some ways she was, as her feet fell through mud and muck along her route home. She forgot her umbrella. As she walked, she imagined all her school papers melding together into a pulp of confusion, as words sought refuge in other word's crevices  to make gibberish. She imagined the residue that the paper would leave against the fabric of her bag and started to frown at the idea of scrubbing it off, which was a chore she had already needed to do when she let her pencils loose last week; they left scribble marks, of graphite, in every which way. 

She wandered, even slower, passed the park she used to play in as a child, and watched as children huddled under pavilions to keep dry. This made her smile. All her memories rushed her back to the swing, damp and vandalized, but able and willing to let her body fly off into rainclouds, where, for just a second, the sun would come out to play and she would feel whole again. She opened her eyes, a new person, for she knew the rain was here to cleanse her. Again, she walked by the park, but this time on good terms with her inner child. 

The rain began to lessen. She began to lessen. 

The clothes she wore draped upon her body like a drying rack, making her fit in with the trees, as her limbs and curves were accentuated. She became the trees and the soil. She became the bridge that let sky and earth touch. She became earth. She became an apparition. She was molding into a scene of acceptance and faith. She became what she needed to be. 

Forward, she moved, now closer to her home. She let her hair hang damp on her shoulders with pride and took her sweater off to expose her arms and stomach, something she had been hesitant of doing before. She opened her backpack to confront the mess of papers she knew she had waiting for her. She sculpted each paper into a ball and let it fall into a strangers neglected trashcan. The sweater had then found a home inside the main pocket of her bag. She stopped for a second, for she heard someone call out to her, but from where, she did not know. She stood there, glancing over the street to see if she could find the source of the noise. Nothing. There were birds singing above her head, and there were croaks and calls of frogs at her feet, but no human was in sight. She decided to continue along her path. There were only 3 more blocks left and then she would be in the comforts of her home. Her feet began to grow tired. 

She pondered on about how many times she had taken this path in all her years of attending school. Maybe thousands. Maybe hundreds of thousands. She was not quite sure, but she knew it had been many times. Many fights with old friends occurred here. Many moments of walking into clouds of infatuation took place along this road. Many remnants of childhood lay here, where people's boxes, filled with old and broken toys, are set up for those who want, or in some cases need them, for free. She had always kept her old toys in her closet. She couldn't part with them. 

Though she had always seen herself as young and naive, she felt old. In fact, she felt like a feeble, old woman sometimes. She would go through life as if she had already experienced it before and would let things come and go without the need to cling onto whatever it is that presented itself to her. People noticed that about her. She was tolerant and of good nature. She understood life beyond line and shape. She saw with eyes that saw before, and knew, and cultivated, each waking hour of her life like it was written out by hands, ancient and healing. 

Home is two more blocks away. The rain becomes a subtle drizzle. She turns the street and notices the vibrancy of the flowers against the grey backdrop. There were roses and lilies and rows of tulips. There were trees budding with life and promises of sweet, fleshy fruit. She could envision tiny hands collecting the fruit for snacks or baked goods. This, she knew, was one of the most exciting parts of the season. As a child, she would stare at the fruit trees and wonder why they took so long to produce fruit. Her mother would take her by the hand and explain to her that nature needs time to make such delicious foods. It wasn't the same as going to the store and buying the fruit. This fruit was better because it was fresh, but also because it grew from our love, and our love is patient and lasting. She would always remember this. 

As she neared halfway down the block, she took her shoes off. The wet friction of her shoes made it harder for her to walk comfortably. She didn't mind walking in puddles with bare feet. In fact, she found it quite refreshing. The water was crystal clear and reflected her face with such a pristine glow that she felt she was looking into the facet of a diamond. It was hard to look away. 

She was now about to turn onto her street. She carried her shoes in her right hand and her bag in the other. The end of her journey was near. Relief washed over her as she read the street name. She smiled at its simplicity; Ivy Street. She crossed the street and headed off onto the sidewalk that would take her to the driveway. As she started to walk, she realized she had dropped her sweater out of her bag when she took it off before crossing. Quickly, she scurried to go grab it, leaving her shoes on the opposite side of the street. She reached it, but before long, she realized she was on the ground and the sweater was 4 feet away, beneath the tire of a car. Her arm was still out, grasping for it, but she couldn't move anymore. She became immobile. Her legs and body were paralyzed, sprawled out in the middle of road and pinned down by debris and car bits. She then realized, she couldn't see a thing. She could still smell and hear and taste, but she couldn't see her sweater anymore. Then she heard her name called out. Adeline. It was spoken forcefully this time.

The rain had stopped, she observed. The sun had come to play.






#life  #fate 
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Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Hand in Hand

When your heart ceases to beat

don't you worry about it 

just use your feet

it's the same idea

I heard you say 

just live, live your life another day

When afternoon comes to kill you

and you've lost your way through the town

don't let, don't let the lights blind you

you'll, you'll get out some other way

Even if life gets harder

Even if the road gets longer

and the past is out to get you

it can't stop you, you've grown stronger

As the bullets fall from office buildings

and the seas have stolen all the sand

there'll be singing and dancing over wartime sound

and all, all our souls go hand in hand

oh, all our souls go hand in hand

all our souls go hand in hand...

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Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Hand in Hand
When your heart ceases to beat
don't you worry about it 
just use your feet
it's the same idea
I heard you say 
just live, live your life another day

When afternoon comes to kill you
and you've lost your way through the town
don't let, don't let the lights blind you
you'll, you'll get out some other way

Even if life gets harder
Even if the road gets longer
and the past is out to get you
it can't stop you, you've grown stronger

As the bullets fall from office buildings
and the seas have stolen all the sand
there'll be singing and dancing over wartime sound
and all, all our souls go hand in hand
oh, all our souls go hand in hand
all our souls go hand in hand...
#nonfiction  #poetry  #life  #culture  #song 
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Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Poetry & Free Verse

On a Rainy Day

In the window

In the window

I saw the future fall to pieces

In the window glass turns to snow

And all I've ever felt

All I've ever known

All I was ever shown

Begins to go

In the window

I see a kite

A child's smile

After a fight

The roses bloom

For Ellis and Daisy

Alone in a room

And carelessly lazy

A painter at work

In an old garden shed

And millions of flowers

That once lived are dead

But the roses thrive

And all is alive inside

Too narrow to see

Too wide to be

Without breath, he left

And all that stood was me

In the window

All I see is all I know

The only light we feel

That floods in to make us grow

Is stolen from a memory

That took place long ago

And all we have is ashes

And ashes and ashes and ashes

Without fault and blame

In the game the rain plays

In the window

In the window

I saw the past mend itself...

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Written by LadyOfBirds in portal Poetry & Free Verse
On a Rainy Day
In the window
In the window
I saw the future fall to pieces
In the window glass turns to snow
And all I've ever felt
All I've ever known
All I was ever shown
Begins to go

In the window
I see a kite
A child's smile
After a fight
The roses bloom
For Ellis and Daisy
Alone in a room
And carelessly lazy
A painter at work
In an old garden shed
And millions of flowers
That once lived are dead
But the roses thrive
And all is alive inside
Too narrow to see
Too wide to be
Without breath, he left
And all that stood was me

In the window
All I see is all I know
The only light we feel
That floods in to make us grow
Is stolen from a memory
That took place long ago
And all we have is ashes
And ashes and ashes and ashes
Without fault and blame
In the game the rain plays

In the window
In the window
I saw the past mend itself...



#poetry  #life  #love 
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