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Breaking Fall The morning rain fell around me, shining slightly in the light of the small sliver of sun that was beginning to peer over from the East. The movie set I was shooting on was located on a picturesque stretch of grassland, which would have appeared like a Garden if Eden of sorts if it wasn't for the plumes of dark grey city-smoke on the horizon. The cross-country train station was completely deserted. Perfect. There was no one to see me, no one to find me, no one to recognise me...

"Mr Parker, Mr Parker!" came the shrill cries of the paparazzi as the world famous movie star fought his

I Am WinterI warn you, I'm blizzards by the dozen,
Each surface glassy ice and powder snow,
Frost, sleet, hail, and all else that is frozen,
Is all that I am, is all that I know.

It seems that she'd been with me since the bud,
With me before I existed at all,
She said she wanted love, she took my blood,
Her teeth in my vein, she drained all my soul.

Her breath is vanilla, part of her spell,
And I thought it would be mine to keep,
I gave her my heart, she took it as well,
Like slipping into cold eternal sleep.

Lips on mine drank my warmth, she's the hunter,
I'm all that she left me, I am winter.

Pandora's BoxAt first I loathed that woman,
Pandora, who released the evils,
Into the world we live in,
And destroyed the human race.

But then I reconsidered,
For she had kept trapped the evil,
Of foresight, and had given us,
Hope.

The light in the darkness,
The hero in war,
The one who nursed us from birth,
Hope.

Like a glow in the fog,
Like a numb in the pain,
It is the silver lining on the cloud,
Hope.

Hope, happiness, haven,
We owe it all to the woman,
Who let out all the horrors, except one,
And became both mankind's villain, and hero.

Lady DeathThey think Death is the Reaper,
Carrying his scythe,
Able to disappear into vapour,
Like a shadow in light.

But no, Death takes the shape,
Of a person, a woman at that,
With a pitch black cloak a flowing cape,
A crucifix of coal, and grace like a cat.

On rhinestone boots she treads the land,
With midnight eyes she tracks her prey,
A spear of onyx in her hand,
Her hair of ink soaking up every sun's ray.

She dons a studded ebonite vest,
With denim of iron sitting on her hip
A blood stained cutlass at her wrist,
Rings of beryl through her lip.

Her ears are pierced with needle sharp bone,
Her eyelids smudged with ash,
Her mouth

The Broken Pieces of Her Sh...The Broken Pieces of Her Shattered Heart

Silence Harrol sat at the loom, working her fast, slender fingers along the threads that would soon be her wedding dress. Her parents had been so excited when they told her that she was betrothed to Henry Almington, the local business personage. Of course, no one listened to her objections, that he was an arrogant drunkard who cared for nothing but money, and that he was drastically older than her, in his thirties, while she was only fifteen.
The bells tolled, "I now give you Mrs. Almington" Mrs. Almington, Mrs. Almington, Almington, Almington. The name rang in Silence's ears, the name she would have

Bed Time StoryI told this story to my two-and-a-half-year-old sister tonight, and if anyone is wondering who on Earth tells stories like this, just keep in mind that young children enjoy stories of just about any subject matter, as long as it flows and contains elements they like. As for my sister, she likes the planets, bunnies, paintings, and has a habit of memorising names that she hears regularly (say, politicians perhaps).

If you think this is ridiculous, well, just think of it as a very serious postmodern stream-of-consiousness piece.

You know how Mercury is a rocky ball? Well it's very small, so small in fact that it was carried by a bunny. The bu

MilagroShe lay on the narrow bed, connected to an almost frightening array of tubes, needles, and drips. Snatches of conversation flitted in and out of her awareness.

"… massive internal injury …"

"… close to death …"

"… no response …"

"… organs will fail if she does not wake soon…"

She wanted to wake up. She tried so hard, but after two days of trying the small sliver of consciousness she was struggling to reach was only moving further and further away. And she was tired, so very tired.

On the fifth day she stopped fighting.

* * *

"Evelyn."

That voice. His voice.

"Evelyn, it's me, Adam."

Goodbye Ad

Where Light is SwallowedI only step out when no one is coming home
The sun sets, and drags the veil from my eyes
I sink just below your searching lights

There is a heaven in this night
that evacuates my mind into the world around me
Where I'm going, there will be no stopping
I'll glance over my shoulder,
then I'll disappear

A guardian angel is...A guardian angel isn't a spirit that floats around following you. No, it's much more then that. A guardian angel is someone willing to stay by your side through the good times, and the hard ones. Someone to hold you tight as you cry, completely soaking their shirt but they don't mind that part. And when they find out that someone hurt you, get so mad that you have to calm them down. Which, oddly enough, ends up calming you down for a little bit. But what a true guardian angel is, is love. It doesn't matter if that love comes from your brother, your cousin, your best friend, be it a boy or a girl. It can come from many different people. And ev

TwoThe small sliver of sun that was just beginning to peak over the East cast a pale yellow light over the small park, making the drops of dew clinging to each blade of grass sparkle like a thousand diamonds. Two figures sat on the edge of the park on an old bench that once, many years ago, might have been painted green, but now had worn away to the bare, weathered wood.

The day had begun.

* * *

The figure in white took a deep breath, her short summer dress fluttering around her. She closed her eyes and began to count in her head. She wouldn't be staying long, just a minute in the frigid morning air before it would be back inside for her stud

Happy EndingsHappy Endings Are Just Fairytales That Haven't Finished Yet

They stand in the courtyard in their finery, the Prince of the land dressed in a majestic black tunic and the daughter of the kingdom's richest Lord draped in the glorious white silks of her gown. The people cheer as they walk past, throwing ribbons and flowers at the newlywed couple. The Prince basks in the attention, smiling and waving at the crowd as he leads his bride toward the castle gates.

It should be me.

It should be me at his side, wearing his ring, spending his wedding night. How many times had he told me that? How many times had he whispered words of love in my ear, te

Witchcraft"It is rather unnatural for me to be here right now, but there are not natural times," the farmer said with a grim countenance. "I have come to you because I am going to die."

The witch leaned forward, surveying her guest. He was not unlike the other men who regularly came to her for advice, with simple clothes that were slightly torn and ragged but still adequate, tanned skin from his outdoor labour, and strong calloused hands from his work in the field. "And why do you believe that?"

"I have seen omens," the farmer replied. "My crops, you see, which I constantly tend to ensure their prosperity, that were grown on the same field that had g

Not YouI thought there was a black hole,
In my chest, where others have a heart.
I've hurt so many and not cared at all,
But now there's a feeling which just won't part.

I see you standing there,
A victim you would have been,
But now I sit and stare,
Now I think differently.

Your innocence and your beauty,
The look you have in your eyes,
Took me back abruptly,
Took me by surprise.

You befriended me, unaware,
Then started changing me too.
I can't continue, no I can't bear,
To do what I planned to do.

Is this love no it cannot be,
Surely that couldn't come from,
Someone as heartless as me,
Or perhaps I'm wrong.

This I've never felt

To Those on the OutsideBring in the roses and lilies;
Summon the weeping children.
Put them in a row and say, "Stand up straight and smile."

String up the crumbling photographs
From a time that no longer exists.
Decorate the coffin where the breathless pillar sleeps.

Love From AfarWhenever you're here I feel so alive,
Like nothing in this world can bring me down.
But whenever you're gone I feel dead inside,
Like I'm trapped in a river, destined to drown.

One moment you're here, the very next, you're gone.
I wish you could stay by my side where you belong.
Our time together is always so short, it just never lasts;
Yet our time apart stretches until it's far too long.

Without you around to keep my heart warm,
The most trivial things can ruin my day.
And there's no relief when it's all said and done,
Because you're not here to take the pain away.

I see the end of the tunnel, but the light is too far off.
My days feel e

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Of Men and MetaphorsIt was a dark and stormy night.

Really, I mean, you ever heard an interesting story that started on a sunny day with mild cloud cover around an hour or so before dinnertime?

Exactly. Moving on.

The air held a coldness that seeped through brick and stone. It crawled through flesh, freezing blood in icy veins, chilling bones like a slithering ghost in the blackness.

...but not so cold that it was a snow-storm. Cotton candy floating down from an inky sky, shining like diamond eyes in the starlight as soft flakes swirl and dance on feather-light feet in the breeze...

Not quite the image we're looking for.

Rain lashed from the depths of the

SliverThey say that if you stand in front of a wall of glass at exactly four minutes past midnight and tap your fingers on it three times, you can open a door to the void beyond this world. It has to be somewhere you can see your reflection, and see through it, hovering like a ghost over the darkness beyond, somewhere dim enough that you can't quite tell the difference between light and shade. And unless you hit the glass where you touched it, shatter the half-formed image before the fifth minute strikes, that door will never close.

Celia Gray has never been one for urban legends. So much so, that she would never turn down a chance to prove one wr

8There once was a little number eight,
Which took on itself to negate,
Freedom, right,
Before they finally saw the light,
It gets better now, state by state.

The SketchHe loses his first kiss in autumn. He's twelve, she's just turned thirteen, and at the time he isn't sure what all the fuss is about but knows how special it is anyway.

She's gorgeous, pale-skin, brown hair, dark eyes always filled with happiness and joy the way he wishes he could be. She doesn't want to be there any more than he does, and they grouse to each other about how they don't need a 'special school.' It's the first time he's worked up the courage to say it.

She carries a book too, just like his sketchbook, but she says it's a diary. It's hung with a little lock on the front and he jokes about it being the key to her heart, a littl

Russian RouletteThey take her on her honeymoon.

The wedding was lovely, or as lovely as it could have been with a couple that were more polite acquaintances than anything else and two sets of in-laws as stuffy as a dusty pile of money. They grab her when she sneaks out for a walk one night, two men, beefy, not even bothered to arm themselves. Her last thought before the bag is shoved over her eyes is to wonder how much this would ruin her parents' plans.

She comes to in a small brick room on a sallow mattress, windowless and lit by a cool yellow lamp. There's a man there, standing just outside the barred door.

"Kelly Shale," he says, voice nasally, greasy

UsEvery face has an eye, every eye has a sight,
To seek and know, what is wrong and right.
Every sight has a vision, every vision has a dream.
And every dream has a future, to find, to fight.

Every face has an ear, every ear hears a tale,
Of good and bad, success or fail.
Every tale has an end, every end has a hope,
And every hope can live no matter fire or hail.

Every face has a heart, every heart has a soul,
To lead the world to that one last goal.
Every soul has a voice, to speak and to trust,
And every voice, is one of us.

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Fear

by ~Treo-LeGigeo, Dec 1, 2009, 9:03:26 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I stand, the night closing around me,
I stare into the dark whirlpool of black,
I feel the cold wind lash at my skin,
I am afraid.

Nowhere to turn,
Nowhere to go,
Lost in the woods,
Stranded in a void of nothingness.

Rustling of leaves,
Silence.
Light footsteps,
Silence.

Frozen I stand,
My heart racing in my chest,
The silence like a thick blanket,
There is a tap on my shoulder.

I force myself to move,
I turn,
I see,
I

Scream!

Fearby ~Treo-LeGigeo

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Fear [feer]
–noun
a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid.

~Kingpencil Nov 24, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

This poem is truly spectacular! Great work!

~liquidsunshine6 Sep 16, 2010

ooooooo... this is so good! i like the end the best! great job!

~AliceStorm Aug 25, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

Love it! I usually don't read much poetry but I really like yours

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