They can be used in so many forms.
Twenty six letters can be used in an insurmountable amount of ways.
Let's start by mentioning the winner of
Give Me Your Fears Challenge.
Congratulations to
smurfy27and here is her entry!
Pierced.
I cringe, shake,
break out in goose bumps,
before the thing
is anywhere near me.
Tears in expectation
of the pain that will follow,
a shuddered cry,
“Keep it away from me.”
It pierces me.
My skin breaks,
unfriendly, sharp, inside me
for a moment.
A single drop of blood
wells and breaks,
spreading towards my elbow
dried copper in the crease.
If you have a moment, please take a moment and check out all of the entries.
Give Me Your Fears ChallengeHello and good day to you all!
It is time for a challenge and since Halloween is just around the corner, I am challenging you to write in the theme of FEAR.
I am giving you until 10/31 to write a poem about fear. I know this is not much time, but I think we can still come up with some great stuff. Think about your fears and write what immediately comes to mind. As a fan of poetry shorter in length, I challenge you to write something short- but make sure it packs a punch!
To enter, post your poem in the comments of this blog and on November first I will pick and winner who will receive 100 points, and a feature in our group, :icondeviantsgallery: and as one in :iconprettyflour:'s personal journal.
Come on, do it. Give me your fears!
[Death][Death][Death][Death][Death][Death][Death][Death][Death][Death]
and because that just isn't enough, I want to feature a few of my favorites. Please enjoy and show these awesome writers some LOVE.
In the senilizing inkNeurons blurring
speeches static on the saliva
every vocabulary
graying and hollowing
brain fusing out
agonizing lightbulb
every notebook that is and was
smoking out into the notness.
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Our True LullabyWe're all born beautiful,
And it involves a choice
To decide how it lasts;
And so take my apology
That my cold, numb hands
And drying, sweet tears
Cannot heal your wounds.
Please don't think of blame,
But it was all your choice
To destroy such pale beauty;
Although I'll always be here
To replenish your thoughts,
For despite your skin is red
Your mind is still a dream.
On Friendshipمودود - Friendship
Fixed Syllable Count Format A:
Do you suppose that friendship sets us free
in seeking happiness - unbound, unchained?
Friend, do not stay quiet: speak! And guide me!
For what is friendship? What does it contain?
Is it dreams, which are meant for those who've known
Such rites of passage for souls atoned:
"For you, my life, even if 'tis in vain."
Is it for us to bear such fate, such pain?
Perhaps 'tis one portray'l which helps us live -
Like leaves in autumn, which portray regret;
Yet, they also mean rebirth. We forget:
Absence makes hearts fonder; that strength it gives
Is what keeps friendship strong; 'tis hope be praised:
For hope is that strength, which keeps our heads raised.
Fixed Syllable Count Format B:
You believe, my friend, that true friendship sets us free,
In our tacit pursuits of happiness unchained?
Speak, and inform without fear or regret - guide me!
For what does true friendship mean? What does it contain?
To pursue those
Play Me A MelodyYour fingers glide across my skin
play me soft like a violin
soft sighs for a blue desert song
a melody strummed along my thigh
the notes of my body vibrate high
lost within your strings I belong
your harmonies leave me supine
drunk upon your sound like fine wine
for your sweet lullaby I long.
uncleHis black work boots stand
tall next to each other,
white socks laying across
the opening and continuing
down to touch the toe.
His hands hold a mason jar
of Mountain Dew on ice, and
his left foot is planted on the floor,
right leg jiggling up down up
down up down up.
Admittedly,
he doesn’t sleep much.
FameHave you chosen your method of execution?
This shall be my death:
Cremation through jealousy.
How many actors does it take to change a lightbulb?
My pyre's built
from stoutest sticks
of effort uneffective.
The answer may surprise you.
My envy is
its sticky pitch,
a fiercely binding glue.
It's ten.
I tie myself
upon the pyre
with ropes of yearning talent.
One to stand upon the ladder,
and then the lightbulb change...
A splinter's cut
unleashes flame
and so begins my death.
...the other nine
stand underneath
and cry
"It should be me up there!"
A fleet of 'maybes', a navy of 'what ifs'We were ships passing in an open bay,
our red sails melting like an eclipse;
in that moment, we filtered out all light
and let our eyes glow from beneath our lids;
but moments are fleeting and ships pass
and our anchors drop in the close embrace
of other harbours.
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