I’d never considered that I might have a place in the rainbow.
I’m eleven years old, sitting on the couch in a friend’s musty trailer, listening while her mom goes on another one of her usual biblical rants. She’s talking about “the gays” as she always calls them, making it very clear to us that she doesn’t approve. She tells us that they’re all going to hell. I’m barely listening. I wonder what she’d say if I admitted that I like girls. I decide not to test it.
I’d only ever heard the opinions that my friend’s mom peddled every time I came over. M
By no means was I surprised when the first pop-up appeared on my computer screen. I had been surfing through the internet for about 30 minutes when it happened, and I just assumed it was some sort of stupid virus. Or scam. I mean, it had to be, right?
“Click now to receive three million dollars! Just press “Accept”!”
How wonderful, the sarcastic little voice in my head meeped. No, thank you. I quickly searched for the red “x” button on the top right corner of the message and pressed it, hoping that wouldn’t bring me to another site full of ads and even more misery. Can’t I look through my socia
When I started preschool, I was a loner, because none of the boys wanted to play with me. I only had a few friends, mostly out of the other boys who were loners.
I didn't want to play with the girls. They liked boring games. None of them wanted to play with dinosaurs, and they thought kickball was stupid.
I eventually learned that girls were supposed to like pink, and that boys weren't allowed to. I've hated the color ever since. I don't even know if I genuinely hate it, or if I hate everything society has made it to be. They have become inseparable in my mind.
There was a girl at my elementary school who had short hair. Everyone mistook h
Her favorite roses only bloomed in the spring.
When white gave way to green, birds resumed song,
And insects took their place at night once more,
He went to the meadow where they grew.
They had been her favorite flower since
Her mother picked one for her on her fourth birthday.
On their wedding day, he made her a necklace of petals
That she didn't take off until after their honeymoon.
Even when her spirits were low and she struggled to smile,
The sight of him holding a bouquet of roses made her day.
That's why they were her birthday present every year;
He felt a little cheap getting the same thing each time,
But she never protes
My words are a mystery, creeping, crawling,
with punctuation that goes nowhere,
you'll find the cadence not appalling,
and sneer at my ellipsis love affair...
rhyme schemes cascade and go out to play,
see-saw scrawl beyond compare,
pretty sonnet led astray,
using every syllable to ensnare.
couplets, quatrains, my muse walks in and out,
emotions running from elated to despair,
imagery aglow and alliteration all about
fixed form like a free verse nightmare.
Stanzas running amok, narrative afterglow,
here come the words, grammar nazis beware,
we have the meter and we have the flow,
using every syllable to ensnare.
My head alights upon your shoulder
As you enfold me in your arms.
An exhausted bird has regained his perch
Bringing his aimless flight to an end.
Sweet nightingale, your soothing tune
Echoes through my heart's mountain.
Matched only by your heart-song
In the valley of your breast.
My hands and eyes are caravans
That amble along your form.
And my cartographer mind charts your geography
A Silk Road I would tread a thousand times.
The whole world was watching when the Prime Minister had a knife driven through his heart.
Eliana was home sprawled on the floor, a pile of gears and and bolts and screws splayed out before her. She only half listened to the news caster as she excitedly commented on proceedings. Ana’s mind and fingers more concerned with building a pocket-sized catapult, per her father’s instructions. Her father sat behind her on the couch, his posture sloppy. Quite unlike him, his elbows on his knees, one hand buried in his hair. The action let his ears show, the pointed tips quivering as he strained to hear the news over the sound of ElianaR
Where the Heart Lies by OneWithTheStars, literature
Literature
Where the Heart Lies
Not so long ago, there lived a man of unremarkable birth. He never viewed himself as handsome or particularly outgoing; he let the ways of society pass him by while he pursued his passions—knowledge and creativity. Hard-working and carving out a life of sufficient financial means, he enjoyed the little things in life that most people took for granted—blue skies, thunderstorms that turned into rainbows, evenings spent in the country stargazing at the field of lights blanketing the night sky—the conventional enjoyments never really brought him much pleasure.
His uniqueness earned him few friends, but they were close
Ben was awoken by a loud crackling noise. He sat up in bed, disoriented, and tried to figure out what could have caused the strange, but oddly familiar sound. Deciding that it must have been thunder, he stood up and walked toward the window. He peered through the blinds, to look for any other signs of a storm, but it was too dark to see anything.
Turning back toward his bed, Ben began to feel the after-effect of the two glasses of water that he drank before going to bed. He walked out of his bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him to keep his cat, Lucy, from wandering in, and navigated the hallway in the dim light provided by a few
They loved their garden;
Mother and Daughter would spend
Hours in the sun.
Behind their house was
Green dotted with red, yellow,
Pink and countless more.
Mother loved roses;
Daughter preferred irises.
They planted with care.
They watched the sun rise
While blowing dandelions,
And mimicked at dusk.
Their birdbaths brought in
Winged visitors who were
Greeted with bird seed.
All meals were eaten
On a polka-dot blanket;
Nothing but home-cooked.
Catching butterflies,
Looking for funny-shaped clouds,
Climbing the oak tree.
They ran, danced and sang,
Never tiring of their
Love for each other.
Daughter did not think
That her