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handmade lovewrite me a letter,
not emails or tweets.
blue pen scribblings
on sheets of paper crisp.

in five hundred words,
two pages and a half -
tell me you thought of me
on cigarette breaks.

go on foot to a post office,
paste the stamp yourself.
i shall be clouds away
expecting the mail truck.

february 28, 2012 :house:
Imaginary FriendI once had a friend.
That was made of pretend,
Who's only friend was me.
We played all alone,
Just all on our own.
Down on the hills,
And the trees.

We ran through the woods,
Jumped in the hills,
And played in the dark,
Because we lived for the thrills.
We went on our journeys,
And time would stand still.
The world would change,
Because it was our will.

Then came the days…
My friend started to fade.
We no longer spoke,
We just sat in the shade.
And as we sat silent
We looked at the sky .
My friend left for the last time,
Without a goodbye.
I guess the fact is.
They were no longer shy.

I once had a friend,
I tho
Mother knew the ocean amassed every tear ever shedMother always told me that the most important lessons in life come accompanied by saltwater.

I always thought she was carrying a soul too spent and too sullen.

I didn't know how right she was till sometime back, at seventeen.

For it was at seventeen that I was to try through a time where paltry tears- saltwater, was all I could taste, as my world was ripped right out of my ribs, and I experienced my first heartbreak.

I was years too young to search for starfish by the shore, to wish myself an old wives tale cure, all for a classic summer sickness. His sea-foam eyes had plighted me and blighted me. He allowed my knees and ankles to burn in
Story of a lying girlThat morning, the sun rose for the fourth time. The vastness of the unfamiliar forest weighted down on her aching shoulders. An eerie silence enveloped the trees around her. There was not a single hint of any animal life; not even the hum of bugs. As far as she knew, she was the sole inhabitant. Other people might have been bothered by lack of human contact, yet for her, it was almost a breath of fresh air. At least that was what she told herself.

The girl noted that so far she had gotten neither hungry nor thirsty, and seemed to have no need to rest, even though she could still enter a dreamlike state at night. With nothing to do her only o
This, I know
I know that breakfast isn't necessary
and I am not an echo of my sister nor am I confused,
just uninterested.

I know that culture is stupid
in thinking that poetry has no life of its
own, that unicorns and dragonflies don't live in our hearts,
and that orange juice and chocolate
taste exactly the same.

I know that life has endless mysteries and insane parallels.
Rage is a lot like passion and passion is a lot like rage.
That and an orange and gray striped sock somehow matches
the blue and pink polka-dotted one.

I know that pianos and violins sound a lot like music
but are really a sign that not everything is black and white.
A Fragile Lifeheady beats flow into his ears, each music note
a dream fluttering to the forefront of his mind—
obliterating the darkness of the world
trying to encroach his every thought.

clunky earphones, the only ones he could afford
sit on his ears, blocking any untoward noises—
like the screams from downstairs
and the sharp thuds from the room next door.

slick rhymes pulse through his mind,
temporary escapes from the maze of
treacherous times—events rather not remembered,
best forgotten within the sands of time.

background vocals implant wells—
depths of azure hope and cerulean freedom
springing from the undiscovered r
Monologue of a traveller.
A shadow lingered on the shattered walls,
swaying in the light of the crescent.
He claimed to having answered destiny's calls,
so he gave life to places long quiescent.
But gods had been merciless to his young age;
throughout the traveller's endless route
they had made apparent their growing rage;
hidden dangers appeared from the  bruit.
He held onto sanity's smallest grain
fingers slipping through invisible ropes.
Broken symbols are all that remain
after the illusion of cruely stolen hopes.
His conscious is now much too frail,
and his words are now much too sinuous.
His impregnable diligence to no avail,
and his frenzied monol
Stitching Wounds with Stringent FeelingsYou breathe me in with desperate, shriveled lungs--
for I am a sordid necessity.
My words are like a salve for judgments hung
so selfishly upon your blatant needs.
And maybe you're a martyr in your eyes--
surprise, I see you lynched by your own thoughts.
Self pity and resentment are a guise
to hide the nothingness that starts to rot
your blackened insides. Take me into you,
feel whole from my magnetic pull towards those
robotic dialogues you think so true.
Just take me in, only the Lord could know
reflections meet  you with a deadened stare.
You distant angels never really care.
BladeThe sweet taste of pain
Lingering at the end of every nerve
Dripping blood like fresh drops of rain
This blade is the only master I serve.
UntitledThere was something of the night, she would say, which had always frightened her.
It wasn't the moonless shadows or the strange prolixity of sounds, but the way the skyline would shatter just beyond the city's crest, as if proving to her childish mind that nothing is truly limitless. Not even the sky.
August WatersSlipping silently,
the water on their scales--
deep sea mermaids.
Dreaming IvoryI dreamt you were a poet
running from the moon--
morning of pale spring.
Robin SongsIce on the window;
a red-breasted robin sings,
remembering spring.
Flirting with SpringDripping paint splotches--
a snowy owl flits across
a crescent moon.
ShamefacedEarly morning clouds
part like covers; running late,
the sun blushes pink.
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June 20, 2012
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:iconlaeneris:
I went to the beach, it was a beautiful evening, and suddenly this wave of inspiration hit me. I quickly scribbled it down, took a few days to modify it, and this is the result. I'm really proud of it, also it's not really my usual style but it was fun to do. :heart:

The picture and poem both belong to me. The sunset is an older picture from the same beach I went to today, and it was absolutely gorgeous. It was also not edited in any way. :)

Please leave a comment if you liked it, or help me out with some constructive critisicm. Everything is appreciated. Go on, I can take it. :huggle:

Find the photo here: [link]
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:iconcskadoz:
~cskadoz Mar 18, 2013   General Artist
:worship:
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:iconlaeneris:
~Laeneris Mar 28, 2013  Student Writer
:bow:
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:iconakashasdreamworld:
*AkashasDreamworld Nov 24, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Beautiful... It has a clear feel, yet somewhat mysterious and new (: It's really wonderful! :dummy:
I'm probably repeating myself, but so what xD
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:iconlaeneris:
~Laeneris Nov 24, 2012  Student Writer
I don't mind the repetition of compliments! :iconlabananadanceplz:
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:iconakashasdreamworld:
*AkashasDreamworld Nov 25, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
:D Good, cause it's awesome :eager:
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:iconbaccaratta:
*baccaratta Nov 22, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I can see why, this is the best poem I've read in a long time.
The "breath in/out" part is unconventional but you make excellent use of it and it works very well.
Makes me jealous you have such beautiful sunsets, our sun is only up a few hours a day over here and I would love to spend a night at the beach enjoying a view like that.
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:iconlaeneris:
~Laeneris Nov 23, 2012  Student Writer
It is? :blush: Thank you so much! To hear that from a fellow poem (if I still consider myself one) means a lot. :iconlubplz:

I'm jealous of your aurora things up in the sky... hey, we should switch houses! :dummy: Kidding, haha. I do admit that we have nice sunsets here, although I'd never seen everything become pink before! :D
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:iconbaccaratta:
*baccaratta Nov 23, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Feel honored to call you my fellow poem :heart:

No I couldn't do that actually x) And yeah the auroras can be a sight of a lifetime, we have some pretty sunsets here aswell but they are sometime far inbetween. should check out this one taken by uni photographer a few years back. [link]
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:iconlaeneris:
~Laeneris Nov 24, 2012  Student Writer
I feel a little bit stupid, I meant to say 'poet' :iconotlplz: Sorry!

That was a gorgeous picture by the way. Thank you for sharing!
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:iconbaccaratta:
*baccaratta Nov 24, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I wondered, but i'll just let it be so can we be stupid togethet :3 np :)
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