Captive Beauty
We exist
We exist in
We exist in fragments
We live
We live for
We live for balance
In the heart of the night
is a reason to fight
for the end comes to kill
and does the murderer's will
each breath counts
each step we take
till time runs out
and you awake
The lions might
subject to fright
the rising sun
the rising kite
The breaking waves
have swept the clouds
The break in life
that breaks the crowds
We care
We care for
We care for no one
We have
We have become
We have become undone
The whispers
wish her sorrow
but the screams
wish her luck
as clocks decide the future
and the bells of fate are struck...
Here Without You
Twilight, and the ocean breaks
my bleeding heart once more.
Relentlessly the salty waves
crash hard, and rocks are worn.
I cry in rage and shake my fist.
Screaming aloud my bitter list,
I cry in rage!
I cry in rage,
the sea answers with surf and mist.
Twilight, and the ocean breaks
upon the rock-strewn shore;
now comes the dawn. My pain’s awake
and misery’s reborn.
Your tender heart and gentle kiss
are gone now, and I truly miss
your tender heart…
your tender heart
and all our special midnight trysts.
Twilight, and the ocean breaks
in never-ending score
of push and pull. My anger fades
as night gives way to morn.
Within my soul you still exist;
it helps me to remember this
within my soul.
Within my soul,
your heart and mine, forever twist.
(c) 2017 - dustygrein
**Note: This trijan refrain was created for @RichWithey's challenge for the month of April -- but it called for literature, so I wrote a flash instead. This poem however, was one that I liked crafting, and felt it deserved to be shared as well.
The Only One
I’ve wandered home but
I cannot find the door.
I fear it has been taken
or swept beneath the floor;
I cannot get in.
I’ve searched my way past
windowpanes and battered
on the walls. My home
lays black and tattered;
mere fragments left to comb.
A dark ruin. There are no
people beneath the ceiling.
I’ve searched, but there are none.
The loneliest feeling.
I am the only one.
Memories
I forget
the sound of your voice -
your booming laugh
and loving words.
I forget
the feel of your hand in mine -
always warm and reassuring,
my rock in life's storms.
I forget
how happy we were -
when we were together
and our love knew no bounds.
But I didn't forget
the words you said -
so much anger and hate;
it broke me.
And I didn't forget
your hand on my face -
the slap that rattled my world;
it hurt me.
That happy image of us
forever shattered, never to return.
Perhaps that's why
I don't want to remember.
#poem #forget #remember
Prose Challenge of the Week #66
Hello, Prosers,
We hope this challenge announcement finds you well and writing!
It’s week sixty-six of the Prose Challenge of the Week.
For the last week, you have been writing about infidelity, and man, did you deliver. Before we check out who the deserving winner and recipient of $100 is, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:
CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for 24 consecutive hours. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online.
Now, back to the winner of week sixty-five.
We have read all of your entries, and have come to a decision. The winner of the Twisted Tale challenge is @Rumpleskag with their piece, But Is It Really Cheating?
Congratulations! You have just won $100. We’ll be in touch with you shortly.
In the meantime, you have one week to get your write on!
Until next time, Prosers,
Prose.
Crumbling Monument to your Beauty
Your skin, like shadow-kissed sands of the Arabian Sea
Face carved of dark, polished stone
Sunlight creates glistening patterns
Like a carpet of diamonds spilled onto moist soil-
If only I hadn't lost my vision,
Those patterns might have been read
Your eyes, like beacons keeping ships in calm water
Shining with beads of determination
Like drops of mercury in semi-fluid motion
Exploding into graceful dance with each smile-
If only I had an ear for rhythm,
I might have applauded those pirouettes
Your laughter, eloquent enough to transcend language
Universally intelligible celebration of trivial joys
Your voice, like a practiced bow over violin strings
Echoing the emotion of your muse-
If only mine hadn't left me,
I might have understood the words
Your posture, like a free stallion in new country
The embodiment of nature's pride in her creation
The wind sculpts muscle out of soft marble
It shapes the speed, the strength, and the grandeur-
If only I were a poet,
I might have adequately immortalized your beauty