Donate coins to AdrienMae27.
Juice
Cancel
Written by AdrienMae27 in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Writers And Prison Guards...

Incarcerated emotions planning

an escape.

Made to be free, yet caged

In the comfort of silence.

A quiescence mind lay muted,

By language, the original sin.

Entombed by a yearning for expressive exude.

Damned are the description

of feelings, condemned by the need to convey.

No words written or spoke can

unchain you, after all...

They were designed to enslave.

Do you see? Don't you get it?

The greatest secret ever been kept

...Feelings can only be felt.

6
1
2
Juice
21 reads
Donate coins to AdrienMae27.
Juice
Cancel
Written by AdrienMae27 in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Writers And Prison Guards...
Incarcerated emotions planning
an escape.
Made to be free, yet caged
In the comfort of silence.
A quiescence mind lay muted,
By language, the original sin.
Entombed by a yearning for expressive exude.
Damned are the description
of feelings, condemned by the need to convey.
No words written or spoke can
unchain you, after all...
They were designed to enslave.
Do you see? Don't you get it?
The greatest secret ever been kept
...Feelings can only be felt.
#nonfiction  #education  #spirituality  #culture  #opinion 
6
1
2
Juice
21 reads
Load 2 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to TommyFrancis.
Juice
Cancel
Challenge of the Week #62: Tell us the story of Lucifer, where Lucifer is female. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by TommyFrancis

Lucifer

    There once was a beautiful young lady who lived in a cave overlooking what is known as the Pillars of Hercules. She had no equal in the world. Men, women, and all would come from all over to see her. It wasn't the her physical beauty that drew them, though she rivaled Aphrodite in looks.

    It was her wisdom and knowledge that had even the most-read scholars flocking to her with questions and open-minds. No one could remember how she acquired the knowledge, as no teachers remembered teaching her. Then one day, she passed away and so did any memory of her.

    There once was a caring, middle-aged woman who lived on the outskirts of a small colonial town known as Boston. She was loved by all and was known as the mother of the town. She was wise and was said to be blessed by God because everyone around her would always be healthy and happy. 

    Few knew that she was infatuated with the forests and plants. She hid her reading because it was not proper to know. But she knew which plants would heal and help people grow. Then one day people found out and the caring, middle-aged woman was no more. 

    There once was an elderly woman who lived alone in New York City. She had seen the world and had experienced long life. No one came to see her though, she was all but forgotten. She had a boxes of memories from her days in Greece, and from when she was a doctor in Boston. Memories were all she had as her family hadn't called in years.

    Then one day the elderly woman passed away and people streaming tears came to see her off. Family, friends, and all who knew her came, and her memory lived on.

3
0
0
Juice
19 reads
Donate coins to TommyFrancis.
Juice
Cancel
Challenge of the Week #62: Tell us the story of Lucifer, where Lucifer is female. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $100. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Written by TommyFrancis
Lucifer
    There once was a beautiful young lady who lived in a cave overlooking what is known as the Pillars of Hercules. She had no equal in the world. Men, women, and all would come from all over to see her. It wasn't the her physical beauty that drew them, though she rivaled Aphrodite in looks.
    It was her wisdom and knowledge that had even the most-read scholars flocking to her with questions and open-minds. No one could remember how she acquired the knowledge, as no teachers remembered teaching her. Then one day, she passed away and so did any memory of her.
    There once was a caring, middle-aged woman who lived on the outskirts of a small colonial town known as Boston. She was loved by all and was known as the mother of the town. She was wise and was said to be blessed by God because everyone around her would always be healthy and happy. 
    Few knew that she was infatuated with the forests and plants. She hid her reading because it was not proper to know. But she knew which plants would heal and help people grow. Then one day people found out and the caring, middle-aged woman was no more. 
    There once was an elderly woman who lived alone in New York City. She had seen the world and had experienced long life. No one came to see her though, she was all but forgotten. She had a boxes of memories from her days in Greece, and from when she was a doctor in Boston. Memories were all she had as her family hadn't called in years.
    Then one day the elderly woman passed away and people streaming tears came to see her off. Family, friends, and all who knew her came, and her memory lived on.
#fiction  #education  #philosophy  #culture  #knowledge 
3
0
0
Juice
19 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to ALifeWitArt.
Juice
Cancel
Written by ALifeWitArt in portal Stream of Consciousness

Coffee Break

He scored the magnitude of her enthusiasm, but it barely registered. Judging the worth behind her silence, often he found more sentiment in her noise. And walking alongside him on 2x4 bridges, she almost stumbled into the reflected sky. But instead of falling, she was swaddled. Stabilized by the serenity of the clouds passing below, she was able to continue on the path to its end.

"That bird over there --

The one with a red chest:

Listen."

The bird is sitting in the tree behind us, and its chattering prosody is noticeably familiar. Chords of melancholy are released on its song, and I am moved to transcribe the notes that are played.

It is like the twice-removed cousin you saw once at a funeral: nature is drawn to identify through instinctual recognition, but with the frequency remaining just foreign enough, we choose to disclaim it.

But all I can do now is watch you roll your cigarette. Your intention is careful. And it's mindful. It is as though you are handling the delicate petals of a Lotus. [Like the time we discussed the segments of an orange, and how they echo what is sacred.] And as I watch, I consider how many more cigarettes you could eventually roll if you had preserved all of the scraps you have dropped over time.

It feels like an angel is eavesdropping on us. Or maybe it is the sun. Hidden, its warmth is shy today, and I can relate.

There are too many scratchy fibers encasing this coconut skull to effectuate any thoughts with real meaning. I hear the fragments splash in its crowded vacancy, but the nonsensical order sounds like the white noise in a warehouse.

She loved to witness his intelligence. His transcendency was palpable, and she prayed it was contagious.

She moved closer to him on the bench because his mind was peyote and it felt good to get high.

Suddenly, I am flooded with curiosity about a stranger I sat next-to on the bus yesterday. Her ivory skin and red hair reminded me of spoken word. As we shuttled darkly beneath the retiring city, I stared at her feet which were crossed uncomfortably against her weight. She had a bumblebee tattoo on the top of her right foot. I wanted to ask her if she had a reason for choosing the right over the left. And I wanted to tell her that, as a spectator, it seemed she was subconsciously crossing her right over left in an attempt to avoid smashing her bug. But I decided to goof off on my phone instead.

Time is a wave: God jumping in the ocean as we assign linear meaning to its slow-motion burst, but, really, it is all just one Pollock mark on the surface of Earth. And then it is over.

I want you to write a poem about me. I want to see myself emerge from your flesh, and through your eyes. The thought of it excites and frightens me, all at once. I can't help but wonder if the bad will marble the good, or if the good will marble the bad. It really doesn't matter, either way. And it doesn't even matter how the verses unfold, or what metaphors are applied.

I know that you love me.

And you --

Love me in a way that

One-dimensional words

Could never describe.

22
8
11
Juice
77 reads
Donate coins to ALifeWitArt.
Juice
Cancel
Written by ALifeWitArt in portal Stream of Consciousness
Coffee Break
He scored the magnitude of her enthusiasm, but it barely registered. Judging the worth behind her silence, often he found more sentiment in her noise. And walking alongside him on 2x4 bridges, she almost stumbled into the reflected sky. But instead of falling, she was swaddled. Stabilized by the serenity of the clouds passing below, she was able to continue on the path to its end.

"That bird over there --
The one with a red chest:
Listen."

The bird is sitting in the tree behind us, and its chattering prosody is noticeably familiar. Chords of melancholy are released on its song, and I am moved to transcribe the notes that are played.

It is like the twice-removed cousin you saw once at a funeral: nature is drawn to identify through instinctual recognition, but with the frequency remaining just foreign enough, we choose to disclaim it.

But all I can do now is watch you roll your cigarette. Your intention is careful. And it's mindful. It is as though you are handling the delicate petals of a Lotus. [Like the time we discussed the segments of an orange, and how they echo what is sacred.] And as I watch, I consider how many more cigarettes you could eventually roll if you had preserved all of the scraps you have dropped over time.

It feels like an angel is eavesdropping on us. Or maybe it is the sun. Hidden, its warmth is shy today, and I can relate.

There are too many scratchy fibers encasing this coconut skull to effectuate any thoughts with real meaning. I hear the fragments splash in its crowded vacancy, but the nonsensical order sounds like the white noise in a warehouse.

She loved to witness his intelligence. His transcendency was palpable, and she prayed it was contagious.

She moved closer to him on the bench because his mind was peyote and it felt good to get high.


Suddenly, I am flooded with curiosity about a stranger I sat next-to on the bus yesterday. Her ivory skin and red hair reminded me of spoken word. As we shuttled darkly beneath the retiring city, I stared at her feet which were crossed uncomfortably against her weight. She had a bumblebee tattoo on the top of her right foot. I wanted to ask her if she had a reason for choosing the right over the left. And I wanted to tell her that, as a spectator, it seemed she was subconsciously crossing her right over left in an attempt to avoid smashing her bug. But I decided to goof off on my phone instead.

Time is a wave: God jumping in the ocean as we assign linear meaning to its slow-motion burst, but, really, it is all just one Pollock mark on the surface of Earth. And then it is over.

I want you to write a poem about me. I want to see myself emerge from your flesh, and through your eyes. The thought of it excites and frightens me, all at once. I can't help but wonder if the bad will marble the good, or if the good will marble the bad. It really doesn't matter, either way. And it doesn't even matter how the verses unfold, or what metaphors are applied.

I know that you love me.
And you --
Love me in a way that
One-dimensional words
Could never describe.
#romance  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #culture  #nature 
22
8
11
Juice
77 reads
Load 11 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to RichWithey.
Juice
Cancel
///// Nightdwellers 'Fiend' Challenge ///// It was World Book Day at the beginning of March so for the rest of this month write about your favourite villain/s / antihero/s / criminal/s from fact or fiction. Tag it #nightdwellers #fiend #WorldBookDay. I look forward to reading all your posts… http://www.facebook.com/groups/NightdwellersWrites/
Written by RichWithey

Alice Burns...

Alice sits and plays with her hair

At the edge of the world she's without a care

Alice, dressed in something other than blue

Perhaps she's happier than you

While she fumbles with ribbons of white

And paints imaginary pictures of delight

Cats inside-out and bloody things

Squashed caterpillars infected with wasps stings

The despair of rabbit, crucified on a clock

The Queen left dead on a chopping block

Yes Alice skips the day away

Insanity is only a conviction if you see the crime

The dazed, distressed, those very first signs

The delicate fall from grace that's a feather in the wind

But its final decent will crack the world with its sin

Little drops of mercury that turn to led

Found in the stomach of a hatter, poisoned and now so dead

Like the rest of Wonderland as it burns in burrows all over the world

Alice's pyromania has the news confused

Don't cross Alice or she'll bring you your death

And their will be no tea party for you before your last breath...

© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.

27
10
24
Juice
95 reads
Donate coins to RichWithey.
Juice
Cancel
///// Nightdwellers 'Fiend' Challenge ///// It was World Book Day at the beginning of March so for the rest of this month write about your favourite villain/s / antihero/s / criminal/s from fact or fiction. Tag it #nightdwellers #fiend #WorldBookDay. I look forward to reading all your posts… http://www.facebook.com/groups/NightdwellersWrites/
Written by RichWithey
Alice Burns...
Alice sits and plays with her hair
At the edge of the world she's without a care
Alice, dressed in something other than blue
Perhaps she's happier than you
While she fumbles with ribbons of white
And paints imaginary pictures of delight
Cats inside-out and bloody things
Squashed caterpillars infected with wasps stings
The despair of rabbit, crucified on a clock
The Queen left dead on a chopping block
Yes Alice skips the day away
Insanity is only a conviction if you see the crime
The dazed, distressed, those very first signs
The delicate fall from grace that's a feather in the wind
But its final decent will crack the world with its sin
Little drops of mercury that turn to led
Found in the stomach of a hatter, poisoned and now so dead
Like the rest of Wonderland as it burns in burrows all over the world
Alice's pyromania has the news confused
Don't cross Alice or she'll bring you your death
And their will be no tea party for you before your last breath...


© Richard Withey. All rights reserved.
#fantasy  #horror  #adventure  #poetry  #culture 
27
10
24
Juice
95 reads
Load 24 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to kaenjelkjern.
Juice
Cancel
Written by kaenjelkjern in portal Poetry & Free Verse

I have tasted the rain

Falling

         e

         n

         t

         l

         y(ou too have tasted watched the stars)

And deadly,

Both

Flooding the senses

                           (ense this;

                            

                            It is general

                            Consensus

                            That we will ache

                            In life)t

                                      e

                                      r

                                      n

                                      a

                                      l

                                      l

                                      y.

I have tasted drops formed from

Mo         ai

      u    t       n

         n              s,

And dew formed upon

g    g    g    g    g

r     r    r     r    r

a     a    a    a    a

s     s     s    s    s

s     s     s    s    s(teady yourself.

You can bend

And also mend)

That grows

Taller than I do(not compare).

I aspire to be such grass,

Even as I taste rain

That

t m u o l s t u u l u y

Drowns even the ocean

(I fear the water

But oh I know it is passionate).

It waters these roots

                            (u

                             n

                             will come again)

And I fasten myself further

And my limbs Ache such an Ache

And it is in the Aching

That I am

Making myself(or the

B   eaking

   r

never lasts)

And I follow my mothers

(the mothers, the daughters, how holy are our

Spirits)

Who have bathed in the rain.

Earth is a woman of virtue leading the raindance

jump love song

Within the stars(hethey have watched the stars

                                                                      o

                                                                      eagerly)

And I am a mere virgin born from her and Mercury,

Virgin to myself,

My messages,

My rains(o many are yet to come.

So many have been weathered),

My pains.

So it seems.

My hair has turned green

And I find new names

And grow gr

                    a

                        s

                            Strong roots

(They say it is greener

But familiar dewdroprains

Scale the blades of our eyes

With Emerald hues if we open them)

When I practice

(oh it takes practice.

All in due time) the raindance

jump love song.

4
0
3
Juice
52 reads
Donate coins to kaenjelkjern.
Juice
Cancel
Written by kaenjelkjern in portal Poetry & Free Verse
I have tasted the rain
Falling
         e
         n
         t
         l
         y(ou too have tasted watched the stars)
And deadly,
Both
Flooding the senses
                           (ense this;
                            
                            It is general
                            Consensus
                            That we will ache
                            In life)t
                                      e
                                      r
                                      n
                                      a
                                      l
                                      l
                                      y.

I have tasted drops formed from
Mo         ai
      u    t       n
         n              s,
And dew formed upon
g    g    g    g    g
r     r    r     r    r
a     a    a    a    a
s     s     s    s    s
s     s     s    s    s(teady yourself.

You can bend
And also mend)

That grows
Taller than I do(not compare).

I aspire to be such grass,
Even as I taste rain
That
t m u o l s t u u l u y
Drowns even the ocean
(I fear the water
But oh I know it is passionate).

It waters these roots
                            (u
                             n
                             will come again)
And I fasten myself further

And my limbs Ache such an Ache
And it is in the Aching
That I am
Making myself(or the
B   eaking
   r
never lasts)

And I follow my mothers
(the mothers, the daughters, how holy are our
Spirits)
Who have bathed in the rain.

Earth is a woman of virtue leading the raindance
jump love song
Within the stars(hethey have watched the stars
                                                                      o
                                                                      eagerly)
And I am a mere virgin born from her and Mercury,
Virgin to myself,
My messages,
My rains(o many are yet to come.
So many have been weathered),
My pains.

So it seems.

My hair has turned green
And I find new names
And grow gr
                    a
                        s
                            Strong roots
(They say it is greener
But familiar dewdroprains
Scale the blades of our eyes
With Emerald hues if we open them)

When I practice
(oh it takes practice.

All in due time) the raindance
jump love song.
#nonfiction  #poetry  #love  #spirituality  #culture 
4
0
3
Juice
52 reads
Load 3 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to JessicaJohnson.
Juice
Cancel
Written by JessicaJohnson in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Tear It Down

I've boxed myself in

These damning walls

Scrawled with every superficial ideal

Society has seared into my mind.

Now, trapped in these confines,

Rebellion looks like bleeding fingertips

And pried open eyes

As I rewrite each placating design,

Chipping away at this indoctrination,

And dissolving each inauthentic standard

One insurgent idea at a time... 

10
3
0
Juice
22 reads
Donate coins to JessicaJohnson.
Juice
Cancel
Written by JessicaJohnson in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Tear It Down
I've boxed myself in
These damning walls
Scrawled with every superficial ideal
Society has seared into my mind.
Now, trapped in these confines,
Rebellion looks like bleeding fingertips
And pried open eyes
As I rewrite each placating design,
Chipping away at this indoctrination,
And dissolving each inauthentic standard
One insurgent idea at a time... 
#poetry  #culture  #opinion  #rebel 
10
3
0
Juice
22 reads
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Syne.
Juice
Cancel
What is home? Create a poem or a short story about home. Bring me there. Make me feel at home or not.
Written by Syne

House With A Soul

A home is a house with a soul

You, the spirit that makes it whole

Memories fade

Love goes away

The house is a home no more

19
5
1
Juice
27 reads
Donate coins to Syne.
Juice
Cancel
What is home? Create a poem or a short story about home. Bring me there. Make me feel at home or not.
Written by Syne
House With A Soul
A home is a house with a soul
You, the spirit that makes it whole
Memories fade
Love goes away
The house is a home no more
#fiction  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #culture  #home 
19
5
1
Juice
27 reads
Load 1 Comment
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to ALifeWitArt.
Juice
Cancel
Written by ALifeWitArt in portal Stream of Consciousness

Broken Mirrors

It was an eclipsal revealing

The way the shadows moved in

Trapping life as we knew it

Under its blanket of fog

Like gasping butterflies caught

In a mason jar with no holes

The Truth as we lived it

Was inverted in a flash

I remember standing outside the bar

Watching the people as they hung

From steel boots linked to nothing

Except the inversion bed straps

Like sleeping bats stretching long

It was as though they were waiting

For their spines to straighten out

Or perhaps to find the path --

And as the winter grew warm

The frigid winds welcomed summer

Reality as we had created it

Was all along just a myth

17
6
5
Juice
48 reads
Donate coins to ALifeWitArt.
Juice
Cancel
Written by ALifeWitArt in portal Stream of Consciousness
Broken Mirrors
It was an eclipsal revealing
The way the shadows moved in
Trapping life as we knew it
Under its blanket of fog
Like gasping butterflies caught
In a mason jar with no holes
The Truth as we lived it
Was inverted in a flash

I remember standing outside the bar
Watching the people as they hung
From steel boots linked to nothing
Except the inversion bed straps
Like sleeping bats stretching long
It was as though they were waiting
For their spines to straighten out
Or perhaps to find the path --

And as the winter grew warm
The frigid winds welcomed summer
Reality as we had created it
Was all along just a myth
#poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #culture 
17
6
5
Juice
48 reads
Load 5 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to JimLamb.
Juice
Cancel
Written by JimLamb in portal Food & Drink

/ˈwän-tän/

Doughy skin,

Flour-based,

Whipped with egg & salt.

Elusive,

“plastic” paste—

What’s inside your vault?

Dreams fulfilled,

Seasoning-drilled,

Zealots cry, “Gestalt!”

Cookies, cakes,

Biscuits, flakes,

pasta somersaults …

Can’t compare—

Or even dare—

To point out your faults.

Boiled/fried,

Folded/tied,

Framed in white & smalt.

Tasty treats,

Filled with meat—

Winning by default.

12
3
2
Juice
24 reads
Donate coins to JimLamb.
Juice
Cancel
Written by JimLamb in portal Food & Drink
/ˈwän-tän/
Doughy skin,
Flour-based,
Whipped with egg & salt.

Elusive,
“plastic” paste—
What’s inside your vault?

Dreams fulfilled,
Seasoning-drilled,
Zealots cry, “Gestalt!”

Cookies, cakes,
Biscuits, flakes,
pasta somersaults …

Can’t compare—
Or even dare—
To point out your faults.

Boiled/fried,
Folded/tied,
Framed in white & smalt.

Tasty treats,
Filled with meat—
Winning by default.

#nonfiction  #poetry  #culture 
12
3
2
Juice
24 reads
Load 2 Comments
Login to post comments.
Donate coins to Syne.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Syne in portal Philosophy

Siddhartha (Running Water)

There was a man once locked away

Walls so high kept him away

From all the pain

The bad, the broken

He hid behind a mind unopened

Then one day he ran away

Searching for an answer

To this world of change

And fleeting moments

Running 'round, eyes wide open

Running 'round

Running 'round

Searching so far

Trying to find something to hold on to

But we're running water

He ate the bark from Bohdi trees

Starved himself until he fell

Down on his knees

Broken, beaten

Now living in a world of weakness

Til he fell upon a dream

And he saw the only way

To free himself

From his demons

Was to change with the seasons

For we run around

Run around

Searching so far

Trying to find something to hold on to

But we're running water

Running 'round

Running 'round

Searching so far

Trying to find something to hold on to

But we're running water

We're running water

23
7
13
Juice
58 reads
Donate coins to Syne.
Juice
Cancel
Written by Syne in portal Philosophy
Siddhartha (Running Water)
There was a man once locked away
Walls so high kept him away
From all the pain
The bad, the broken
He hid behind a mind unopened

Then one day he ran away
Searching for an answer
To this world of change
And fleeting moments
Running 'round, eyes wide open

Running 'round
Running 'round
Searching so far
Trying to find something to hold on to
But we're running water

He ate the bark from Bohdi trees
Starved himself until he fell
Down on his knees
Broken, beaten
Now living in a world of weakness

Til he fell upon a dream
And he saw the only way
To free himself
From his demons
Was to change with the seasons

For we run around
Run around
Searching so far
Trying to find something to hold on to
But we're running water

Running 'round
Running 'round
Searching so far
Trying to find something to hold on to
But we're running water

We're running water
#fiction  #poetry  #philosophy  #spirituality  #culture  #religion 
23
7
13
Juice
58 reads
Load 13 Comments
Login to post comments.