sandflea68
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My words seek color as does my art. Unique characters throb my soul. Published author of 2 books.
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Simon & Schuster is one of the world’s leading publishers and we are always looking for fresh new voices. Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by our editorial staff for consideration.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Simon & Schuster

Half of Me is Missing (excerpt)

“Jasmine was such a beautiful baby with her ivory complexion, pretty rosebud mouth, rosy cheeks and stunning green eyes. Her hair was so black and lustrous with soft curls. I couldn’t believe that she was our child!” Ann Stewart’s body seemed to elongate as she sat up straighter in her chair. Obviously, she had once been proud and thrilled by her daughter.

“I noticed that she did not really seem to bond with me, although I held her and rocked her and tried to do everything I thought I should do to nurture her. This was our first child so I thought that her reaction to us might be normal for a young baby. She never seemed to cry or smile or show any emotion. I was so overjoyed at having a child after so many years of trying that I overlooked her responses. My friends and relatives all cooed at her in admiration of her beauty but she didn’t seem to care. Her pediatrician told me not to worry since she appeared perfectly normal. He advised us both to spend a lot of time with her, holding and touching her. I wondered why she did not smile like other babies did. I began to wonder if it was my fault that she was not developing as I thought she should. Because she was my first child, I had little experience in child development and began to doubt my abilities. I could tell that she was intelligent as she explored her immediate area and watched those around her. She talked very early but her words were not really directed toward anyone. She seemed to be carrying on conversations with herself or with some unseen person. The only time she seemed somewhat happy is when she looked into the mirror on one of her crib toys and babbled at her reflection as if it were actually her own self instead of a reflection.”

I noticed that tears were coursing down Ann’s cheeks as she described her child. I could see that she loved her but was perplexed since she was unable to reach her. She appeared to have almost given up on Jasmine and was now beginning to direct her attention toward her other children who did interact with her.

I turned toward George Stewart and asked him, “How do you feel about your daughter? Do you have anything to add to what your wife has advised? Do you agree with her observations?”

“My wife and I are simple people,” responded George. “We own and operate a mom and pop grocery store here in the outskirts of Portland. I always thought that my daughter, Jasmine, would join us in our business after high school. If it’s good enough for me, it should be good enough for her! But, oh no, she wants no part of our business. She thinks she’s too valuable to do this type of work and refuses to even discuss it. I admit that she was a good student in high school, right at the top of her class. She graduated early when she had just turned 17. I thought she had the brains and ambition to eventually take over as manager of my store.” George pulled strands of hair nervously up from the top of his head as he vented his frustration. His face turned red in anger as he showed his disappointment.

“I understand how you feel,” I sympathized with George. “But, tell me how Jasmine was as a child to your best recollection.”

“She was such a beautiful baby and I was so proud of her. However, she never seemed to care much about me. I tried to play with her and get her to laugh but I never felt she was on my wave length. My wife and I took her into our shop and put her in a small playpen behind the cash register. Every customer that came in remarked on her loveliness, wanting to hold her and interact with her. We actually did allow some of our long term customers to pick her up to see if she would be stimulated by someone else. We always felt guilty that she did not seem to like us. But she never responded to all the attention she received. I thought maybe she was just shy and would develop later but she never did. When she began to talk early, she would just ask for things that she wanted. She never seemed to give us any reaction no matter how hard we tried. I just hoped that she would become more loving when she became older.” When Jasmine was almost three, we finally were able to have another child, a wonderful little boy we called George, Jr. He was the polar opposite of Jasmine and loved us with all his heart. He often tried to catch Jasmine’s attention as he smiled and cooed, but she couldn’t care less. Jasmine was always looking around, searching for the other half of her body. She insisted, even then, that part of her was missing. I could not understand it! Later, we had two more children whom we adored. Jasmine might have felt left out but she never seemed to resent the lack of attention because of our other children who needed and appreciated our encouragement.”

“Is there anything else that you feel is significant?” I asked George.

“Well,” he reluctantly replied, “I noticed that she seemed to be flirtatious with the younger boys and I felt she was too seductive. My wife said that I was crazy because such a young child would not be doing this. She said that all little children played ‘doctor’ and that it was a normal part of growing up. But one night, both of us went into George’s bedroom to kiss him goodnight, as was our ritual with all the children. We were both absolutely horrified to find Jasmine, naked, rubbing up to little George. We did discuss this with their pediatrician who advised us that we shouldn’t put too much significance on this act because it would just draw attention to something that was probably a temporary thing. He told us to explain to Jasmine that we knew that she was a good little girl but we did not allow this experimentation in our family. George was only three at the time and too young to understand. And, Dr. Engel, can you guess what Jasmine said to me when I reasoned with her?”

“What did she say,” I asked with curiosity as I was taking my notes.

“She said, ‘It wasn’t me that did it. It was my other part that I can’t find. If I

can find her, I will tell her not to do it anymore!’ ” Tears filled George’s eyes as

he related this to me.

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Simon & Schuster is one of the world’s leading publishers and we are always looking for fresh new voices. Write a story, chapter, or essay about whatever you like. The 50 best entries will be announced by Prose and read by our editorial staff for consideration.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Simon & Schuster
Half of Me is Missing (excerpt)
“Jasmine was such a beautiful baby with her ivory complexion, pretty rosebud mouth, rosy cheeks and stunning green eyes. Her hair was so black and lustrous with soft curls. I couldn’t believe that she was our child!” Ann Stewart’s body seemed to elongate as she sat up straighter in her chair. Obviously, she had once been proud and thrilled by her daughter.

“I noticed that she did not really seem to bond with me, although I held her and rocked her and tried to do everything I thought I should do to nurture her. This was our first child so I thought that her reaction to us might be normal for a young baby. She never seemed to cry or smile or show any emotion. I was so overjoyed at having a child after so many years of trying that I overlooked her responses. My friends and relatives all cooed at her in admiration of her beauty but she didn’t seem to care. Her pediatrician told me not to worry since she appeared perfectly normal. He advised us both to spend a lot of time with her, holding and touching her. I wondered why she did not smile like other babies did. I began to wonder if it was my fault that she was not developing as I thought she should. Because she was my first child, I had little experience in child development and began to doubt my abilities. I could tell that she was intelligent as she explored her immediate area and watched those around her. She talked very early but her words were not really directed toward anyone. She seemed to be carrying on conversations with herself or with some unseen person. The only time she seemed somewhat happy is when she looked into the mirror on one of her crib toys and babbled at her reflection as if it were actually her own self instead of a reflection.”

I noticed that tears were coursing down Ann’s cheeks as she described her child. I could see that she loved her but was perplexed since she was unable to reach her. She appeared to have almost given up on Jasmine and was now beginning to direct her attention toward her other children who did interact with her.

I turned toward George Stewart and asked him, “How do you feel about your daughter? Do you have anything to add to what your wife has advised? Do you agree with her observations?”

“My wife and I are simple people,” responded George. “We own and operate a mom and pop grocery store here in the outskirts of Portland. I always thought that my daughter, Jasmine, would join us in our business after high school. If it’s good enough for me, it should be good enough for her! But, oh no, she wants no part of our business. She thinks she’s too valuable to do this type of work and refuses to even discuss it. I admit that she was a good student in high school, right at the top of her class. She graduated early when she had just turned 17. I thought she had the brains and ambition to eventually take over as manager of my store.” George pulled strands of hair nervously up from the top of his head as he vented his frustration. His face turned red in anger as he showed his disappointment.

“I understand how you feel,” I sympathized with George. “But, tell me how Jasmine was as a child to your best recollection.”

“She was such a beautiful baby and I was so proud of her. However, she never seemed to care much about me. I tried to play with her and get her to laugh but I never felt she was on my wave length. My wife and I took her into our shop and put her in a small playpen behind the cash register. Every customer that came in remarked on her loveliness, wanting to hold her and interact with her. We actually did allow some of our long term customers to pick her up to see if she would be stimulated by someone else. We always felt guilty that she did not seem to like us. But she never responded to all the attention she received. I thought maybe she was just shy and would develop later but she never did. When she began to talk early, she would just ask for things that she wanted. She never seemed to give us any reaction no matter how hard we tried. I just hoped that she would become more loving when she became older.” When Jasmine was almost three, we finally were able to have another child, a wonderful little boy we called George, Jr. He was the polar opposite of Jasmine and loved us with all his heart. He often tried to catch Jasmine’s attention as he smiled and cooed, but she couldn’t care less. Jasmine was always looking around, searching for the other half of her body. She insisted, even then, that part of her was missing. I could not understand it! Later, we had two more children whom we adored. Jasmine might have felt left out but she never seemed to resent the lack of attention because of our other children who needed and appreciated our encouragement.”

“Is there anything else that you feel is significant?” I asked George.

“Well,” he reluctantly replied, “I noticed that she seemed to be flirtatious with the younger boys and I felt she was too seductive. My wife said that I was crazy because such a young child would not be doing this. She said that all little children played ‘doctor’ and that it was a normal part of growing up. But one night, both of us went into George’s bedroom to kiss him goodnight, as was our ritual with all the children. We were both absolutely horrified to find Jasmine, naked, rubbing up to little George. We did discuss this with their pediatrician who advised us that we shouldn’t put too much significance on this act because it would just draw attention to something that was probably a temporary thing. He told us to explain to Jasmine that we knew that she was a good little girl but we did not allow this experimentation in our family. George was only three at the time and too young to understand. And, Dr. Engel, can you guess what Jasmine said to me when I reasoned with her?”

“What did she say,” I asked with curiosity as I was taking my notes.

“She said, ‘It wasn’t me that did it. It was my other part that I can’t find. If I
can find her, I will tell her not to do it anymore!’ ” Tears filled George’s eyes as
he related this to me.

#fiction  #mystery  #psychologicalthriller 
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Write about insecurity or your own insecurities.
Written by sandflea68

Self-Doubt

Naked and nesting in soft womb

unclothed to ways of the world

nestled in heavenly comfort

hiding beneath light of insecurity

barefoot, trapped in silk underbelly

cleansing my wounds of yesterday

feeling hollowness sway in my cavity

fracturing thin pane of glass, cracking

opening wide the windows to my soul

climbing out of my dusky abyss

treading unshod in forgiving breeze.

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Write about insecurity or your own insecurities.
Written by sandflea68
Self-Doubt
Naked and nesting in soft womb
unclothed to ways of the world
nestled in heavenly comfort
hiding beneath light of insecurity
barefoot, trapped in silk underbelly
cleansing my wounds of yesterday
feeling hollowness sway in my cavity
fracturing thin pane of glass, cracking
opening wide the windows to my soul
climbing out of my dusky abyss
treading unshod in forgiving breeze.

#challenge  #insecurity  #forgivingBreeze 
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Write something to a person that you wouldn't tell them in person - any form, any way you want to. let it out.
Written by sandflea68

Unbearable

I cherish your being

hold you to my heart

thoughts of losing you

pounding nails of despair

bruised emotional exhaustion

pondering whether your existence

will carry over into the morrow

life threatening to swallow you

leaving me thirsty and bereft

unfinished and suffocating

my flailed spirit will lose

its passion, a violin missing

its strings of resonance

my love gluing you to my soul

Stay a while before you leave

and I will breathe deeply for you

enfolding you in my heart, forever.

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Write something to a person that you wouldn't tell them in person - any form, any way you want to. let it out.
Written by sandflea68
Unbearable
I cherish your being
hold you to my heart
thoughts of losing you
pounding nails of despair
bruised emotional exhaustion
pondering whether your existence
will carry over into the morrow
life threatening to swallow you
leaving me thirsty and bereft
unfinished and suffocating
my flailed spirit will lose
its passion, a violin missing
its strings of resonance
my love gluing you to my soul
Stay a while before you leave
and I will breathe deeply for you
enfolding you in my heart, forever.

#challenge  #death  #painful  #FeelingsAboutYourDying  #CantSayInPerson 
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The writer of the best short story from this challenge wins a ProWritingAid Lifetime License, worth $140. Take the terribly-written adverb-laden outline of a story below and use your own voice to make it amazing. Maybe it's sci-fi, maybe it's romance, maybe it's thriller...it's up to you: The door was opened and they looked out. She was very surprised. He looked very worried. They went quickly to find out more. She slowly picked up the object and it all finally made sense.
Written by sandflea68

Blue Steel

Warning: This includes erotica, horror, murder and psychological aberrations. 

She danced her finger along the sharp blue steel of the glistening knife blade. She was overwhelmed by intoxication as the claret drops of blood trickled down her bare breasts culminating at the secret place where it all ended. She lifted one of her heavy breasts to her lips, licking the blood with her elongated tongue in a passion of frenzy. Wafting her thoughts through the inner realms of her subconscious, she grasped that the portal to her psychopathic needs could never be locked again. The first half of her life was merely a practice run for her future. The world was opening up to her like a ripe pomegranate ready to burst as swift veins of excitement coursed through her body. She realized that she could never look back.

Peaking around the corner, the man was mesmerized by her crimson beauty, drawn into her sensual vortex. Heated pink steam seemed to arise from her torso. Unable to resist her magnetic appeal, he meandered toward her alluring seductiveness, sucking the beads of lusty hunger from her wet lips. He became aroused as he ran searching fingers down her slippery body, searching for her center.

Her left hand wandered down his torso as he closed his eyes and moaned. Teasing, she lightly touched him and then withdrew, driving him to desperation. When she had driven him completely crazy, she began to frantically stroke his manhood as he lost himself in the epitome of his ecstasy. Drawing out her right hand surreptitiously from behind her back, she plunged the knife, warm from being pressed against her body, into his heart as she climaxed at the same time, rubbing his blood in erotic circles all over her aroused body. He never uttered another word as she tossed her head and laughed in crazed delirium.

Tracing her lips with her pink tongue, she wiped the bloody knife off with the black tresses of her hair as she glanced down at him, lying lifeless on the floor. With a burst of realization, it dawned on her that this was the reason she had been put on this earth. She would be unable to wait more than a few days for the next encounter as she felt the juices stirring through her loins. This fever must be quenched before it ravaged her body and she lost complete control. With mounting anticipation, she looked forward to the next challenge. There would be many more.

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The writer of the best short story from this challenge wins a ProWritingAid Lifetime License, worth $140. Take the terribly-written adverb-laden outline of a story below and use your own voice to make it amazing. Maybe it's sci-fi, maybe it's romance, maybe it's thriller...it's up to you: The door was opened and they looked out. She was very surprised. He looked very worried. They went quickly to find out more. She slowly picked up the object and it all finally made sense.
Written by sandflea68
Blue Steel
Warning: This includes erotica, horror, murder and psychological aberrations. 

She danced her finger along the sharp blue steel of the glistening knife blade. She was overwhelmed by intoxication as the claret drops of blood trickled down her bare breasts culminating at the secret place where it all ended. She lifted one of her heavy breasts to her lips, licking the blood with her elongated tongue in a passion of frenzy. Wafting her thoughts through the inner realms of her subconscious, she grasped that the portal to her psychopathic needs could never be locked again. The first half of her life was merely a practice run for her future. The world was opening up to her like a ripe pomegranate ready to burst as swift veins of excitement coursed through her body. She realized that she could never look back.

Peaking around the corner, the man was mesmerized by her crimson beauty, drawn into her sensual vortex. Heated pink steam seemed to arise from her torso. Unable to resist her magnetic appeal, he meandered toward her alluring seductiveness, sucking the beads of lusty hunger from her wet lips. He became aroused as he ran searching fingers down her slippery body, searching for her center.

Her left hand wandered down his torso as he closed his eyes and moaned. Teasing, she lightly touched him and then withdrew, driving him to desperation. When she had driven him completely crazy, she began to frantically stroke his manhood as he lost himself in the epitome of his ecstasy. Drawing out her right hand surreptitiously from behind her back, she plunged the knife, warm from being pressed against her body, into his heart as she climaxed at the same time, rubbing his blood in erotic circles all over her aroused body. He never uttered another word as she tossed her head and laughed in crazed delirium.

Tracing her lips with her pink tongue, she wiped the bloody knife off with the black tresses of her hair as she glanced down at him, lying lifeless on the floor. With a burst of realization, it dawned on her that this was the reason she had been put on this earth. She would be unable to wait more than a few days for the next encounter as she felt the juices stirring through her loins. This fever must be quenched before it ravaged her body and she lost complete control. With mounting anticipation, she looked forward to the next challenge. There would be many more.

#fiction  #horror  #murder  #erotica  #psychological 
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"THE EYES ARE THE WINDOW OF THE SOUL." Our lips may lie but our eyes always reflects the truth . Eyes had been the source of inspiration to the poets , authors and artists . Write about the most attractive eyes that can never fade away from your heart and mind . ( Any genre )
Written by sandflea68

Aqueous

Turquoise intensity pools at my feet,

thick black eyelashes wrap me in passion.

Eye gems surrounded by apricot skin

draw me into your fathomless sea.

Liquid silk of your bedroom eyes

envelopes my soul and beckons me.

My lips touch your eyelids, stirring

mounting zenith of moist desire.

Even against the deepest night,

your eyes are a beacon of light,

a lighthouse of warning, foretelling,

forever marooned by her eyes,

stranded within her warm islands.

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"THE EYES ARE THE WINDOW OF THE SOUL." Our lips may lie but our eyes always reflects the truth . Eyes had been the source of inspiration to the poets , authors and artists . Write about the most attractive eyes that can never fade away from your heart and mind . ( Any genre )
Written by sandflea68
Aqueous
Turquoise intensity pools at my feet,
thick black eyelashes wrap me in passion.
Eye gems surrounded by apricot skin
draw me into your fathomless sea.
Liquid silk of your bedroom eyes
envelopes my soul and beckons me.
My lips touch your eyelids, stirring
mounting zenith of moist desire.
Even against the deepest night,
your eyes are a beacon of light,
a lighthouse of warning, foretelling,
forever marooned by her eyes,
stranded within her warm islands.

#challenge  #SoulWindows 
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Write a poem or short story based off of this phrase, "I've learned to walk around inside my own head".
Written by sandflea68

Skull

I’ve learned to navigate inside my head

away from stale breath and spineless skin,

multiples of doubt cascade in sheets,

tiptoeing as light streaks inside my brain,

lost in the tangled web of my head

streets paved in aimless silver lining.

Blood trickles from orifices down my face,

knotted fear and anxiety popping like corks,

empty insides building up wrinkled rage.

Smiles flash lightning but not from my lips,

wolf-like predators chew up my brain

following criss-crossed lines of negativity.

Hammered thoughts reverberate inside

my skull swallowing my distant screams

pulverized until nothing’s left but bones.

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Write a poem or short story based off of this phrase, "I've learned to walk around inside my own head".
Written by sandflea68
Skull
I’ve learned to navigate inside my head
away from stale breath and spineless skin,
multiples of doubt cascade in sheets,
tiptoeing as light streaks inside my brain,
lost in the tangled web of my head
streets paved in aimless silver lining.
Blood trickles from orifices down my face,
knotted fear and anxiety popping like corks,
empty insides building up wrinkled rage.
Smiles flash lightning but not from my lips,
wolf-like predators chew up my brain
following criss-crossed lines of negativity.
Hammered thoughts reverberate inside
my skull swallowing my distant screams
pulverized until nothing’s left but bones.

#challenge  #WalkingAroundInsideMyHead 
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CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
Written by sandflea68

Life's Promises

Looking Back

     life pounded in sharp needle spikes

     mistakes I’ve made colored my soul

     wrong choices tarnished who I was

     wrong influences dug trenches into my psyche

     crooked paths veered off course

     married too young before I knew who I could be

     misguided career choices without a compass

     advice I didn’t follow, heading wrong way

Moving Forward

     pulled up my socks and started fresh

     faced the truth and reversed footprints

     released creativity and blended tints

     kindness to all – sweet words rebounded

     erased prejudice – we’re all the same

     took a chance – threw dart into wind

     wrote that book before I knew how

     painted that canvas with story of my life

     tried new things and honed my path

     opened soul allowing new joy inside

     new beginnings and new pleasures

     let worry fly into the breezes of change

     opened up to life and tested the future

     embraced journeys exploring new trails

     expanded my knowledge, explored my world

     painted in new light with dawning colors

     swelled with love and burst with understanding

Who I now am

     soft but strong enough to face challenges

     open mind and heart overflowing

     creative but willing to learn and expand

     giving and nurturing to those that I love

     inclusive in my feeling for people of this world

     grateful to Prose Community for opening up

     life to possibilities and hearts to understanding.

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CotW #66: Write about the biggest lesson life has taught you.
Written by sandflea68
Life's Promises
Looking Back
     life pounded in sharp needle spikes
     mistakes I’ve made colored my soul
     wrong choices tarnished who I was
     wrong influences dug trenches into my psyche
     crooked paths veered off course
     married too young before I knew who I could be
     misguided career choices without a compass
     advice I didn’t follow, heading wrong way

Moving Forward
     pulled up my socks and started fresh
     faced the truth and reversed footprints
     released creativity and blended tints
     kindness to all – sweet words rebounded
     erased prejudice – we’re all the same
     took a chance – threw dart into wind
     wrote that book before I knew how
     painted that canvas with story of my life
     tried new things and honed my path
     opened soul allowing new joy inside
     new beginnings and new pleasures
     let worry fly into the breezes of change
     opened up to life and tested the future
     embraced journeys exploring new trails
     expanded my knowledge, explored my world
     painted in new light with dawning colors
     swelled with love and burst with understanding

Who I now am
     soft but strong enough to face challenges
     open mind and heart overflowing
     creative but willing to learn and expand
     giving and nurturing to those that I love
     inclusive in my feeling for people of this world
     grateful to Prose Community for opening up
     life to possibilities and hearts to understanding.

#challenge  #movingforward  #lookingback  #lLifeLessons  #WhoINowAm 
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Write a set of three haikus that follow an individual falling in love. The three stages are: Falling in love, Being in love, and Falling out of Love. Be creative, bold, and unforgiving. Best of luck! Tag me in your post, I really want to read your ideas.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Phases andStages

Mere touch sends spasms

sparked electricity

current runs through me.

Dimmer ignition

seldom turned on by my juice

desires new voltage.

Transformer explodes

new stars expand horsepower

fresh conductivity.

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Write a set of three haikus that follow an individual falling in love. The three stages are: Falling in love, Being in love, and Falling out of Love. Be creative, bold, and unforgiving. Best of luck! Tag me in your post, I really want to read your ideas.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Phases andStages
Mere touch sends spasms
sparked electricity
current runs through me.

Dimmer ignition
seldom turned on by my juice
desires new voltage.

Transformer explodes
new stars expand horsepower
fresh conductivity.

#challenge  #StagesofLove 
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Write automatically and describe who you really are, without referencing your physical appearance, job, traits, ethics, possessions, achievements, beliefs or environment. And good luck with that ;)
Written by sandflea68

Sea Skin

I am

     the soothing tide

     drifting on back strokes,

     footprints left as treasure

     in dawning foam

     of lapping teal waves.

I am

     watching weeping

     white diamond wind

     tossing oceans in

     salt of briny breeze,

     kissing azure ocean

     of white capped dreams.

I am

     skin of the sea rising

     to frothed crescents,

     canopy of waves

     sheltering my soul,

     alone, holding ocean

     in my sieved fingers

I am

     rich cobalt view

     of serene passion,

     floating above surface

     before diving into depth,

     sunlit smile and silence.

I am

     uncharted waters waiting

     for you to decipher

     blush of shell-toned sky,

     a soaring seagull

     at cusp of cerulean sea.

I am

     sailing my ship

     to unknown horizons

     in destiny of ballads,

     strolling endless shore

     of no regrets.

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Write automatically and describe who you really are, without referencing your physical appearance, job, traits, ethics, possessions, achievements, beliefs or environment. And good luck with that ;)
Written by sandflea68
Sea Skin
I am
     the soothing tide
     drifting on back strokes,
     footprints left as treasure
     in dawning foam
     of lapping teal waves.

I am
     watching weeping
     white diamond wind
     tossing oceans in
     salt of briny breeze,
     kissing azure ocean
     of white capped dreams.

I am
     skin of the sea rising
     to frothed crescents,
     canopy of waves
     sheltering my soul,
     alone, holding ocean
     in my sieved fingers

I am
     rich cobalt view
     of serene passion,
     floating above surface
     before diving into depth,
     sunlit smile and silence.

I am
     uncharted waters waiting
     for you to decipher
     blush of shell-toned sky,
     a soaring seagull
     at cusp of cerulean sea.

I am
     sailing my ship
     to unknown horizons
     in destiny of ballads,
     strolling endless shore
     of no regrets.

#challenge  #whoiam  #OneWithTheSea 
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Written by sandflea68 in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Masked Depravity

You played my heart like a violin

     ‘I love you’s floating in rivers of fire

     sliding gilded words on slick tongue

     straight and tall in gimmicks and lies

     pretending to be what you’re not.

You played my heart like a violin

     in twisted looks of empty promises

     serpent’s tongue flicking in and out

     offering platter of charmed hypocrisy

     hanging my love on line to dry

You played my heart like a violin

     as I wrote your name on my wall

     only a whisper of my song, lingering

     echoing in your hostile wind

     your inner tiger prowling, destroying

You played my heart like a violin

     leaving me with sensation of falling

     down to depths of your dark pit

     please pack up your eclipse

    leaving extra space in my head.

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Written by sandflea68 in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Masked Depravity
You played my heart like a violin
     ‘I love you’s floating in rivers of fire
     sliding gilded words on slick tongue
     straight and tall in gimmicks and lies
     pretending to be what you’re not.

You played my heart like a violin
     in twisted looks of empty promises
     serpent’s tongue flicking in and out
     offering platter of charmed hypocrisy
     hanging my love on line to dry

You played my heart like a violin
     as I wrote your name on my wall
     only a whisper of my song, lingering
     echoing in your hostile wind
     your inner tiger prowling, destroying

You played my heart like a violin
     leaving me with sensation of falling
     down to depths of your dark pit
     please pack up your eclipse
    leaving extra space in my head.

#villain  #PlayingWithMyHeart 
25
4
3
Juice
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