[x]

Crayon SoulmatesDear Stars,

I have a bone to pick with you. You see, when I was six, I called myself the nowhere girl... and I coloured myself a soulmate. I made him on crumpled sheets, with broken pieces of crayon, on a playground that was too busy wondering whether growing up entailed stealing your mother's cigarettes and your father's dirty magazines (I suppose I was already wise enough to know that growing up meant choosing one of the many ways of breaking yourself in two.)

I hope you remember him, stars...he was important to me (My mother threw that drawing away on my seventh birthday and told me that girls are not supposed to have such dreams.).

He

To The Beautiful YouTo The Beautiful You:

Here we are, sitting behind these screens of glass,

Reading lines of text, yet smiling, laughing and crying.

It's strange to think that I could have this much fun -

Considering that I've never met you before, but then again

Perhaps that's the reason why I don't have to pretend.

Some people might tell me, that what we have is just a fantasy,

I doubt I'll have the chance to actually see you in this life-time.

But even so, in the time that we've spent together - Well,

I feel as though I've connected with you, more than anyone else.

I feel as though I know you better, than those just a few feet away.

You might tak

on commuting with no hurrythere you go
lighting matches in the rain,
walking with two feet
that the gods gave you
because they cannot walk,

heading home as if with news
of some miraculous disaster,

counting the steps between yourself
and the clouds that disappeared
behind the grey veil of October.

thunder and lightning unfold
so close above

and you dream of a destination
somewhere in the south

where birds and stormy weather coexist.

behind you there is nothing,
running water will erase
every footprint you have left
on the dark sand of this metropolis.

before you there is distance,
enough to live your life
in a constant state of travel,

but not n

SinkingRecently I've been sinking
Like a stone into a pond
Having skimmed across the surface
Of life for far too long

Please may I have a new heart
Along with a new mind
I cannot reverse this feeling
No, I'm sorry, not this time

Recently I've been sinking
Into myself like quicksand
No one sees as it swallows me
Each grain a mislaid plan

Please may I crawl inside your love
Mingle hearts until the end
I cannot reverse this feeling
No, I'm sorry, not again

Recently I've been sinking
Such an overused metaphor
But one which is cathartic
When choosing to explore

That I could save you my love
And in time you could save me
As fear and

Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:

Down into well, poor Timmy fell,
Down he fell into the pits of hell.
Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,
Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.

Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,
He shook for hours, so long it took,
So long it took for him to feel well,
Well enough to explore this hell...

Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;
Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,
A story of fear and suffering defined,
Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...

Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...

-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012

Like A Child"Like A Child"

At times I feel like such a child
Finding power in my naive ability
To see the weak prevail
Like old-fashioned chivalry.
I'm a child with a sparkler
Smiling very wide
Laughing as I make a snowman
From the snow that's outside
My innocence is a burden
Exhausting all possibilities
Refusing to give up
I want to dethrone the nobility
With my water gun
I can take down my enemies
Like the kid I am
Holding my paper bow steady
I like to believe stars shine forever
I believe people can change
I can find the good in people
No matter how strange
But I can not imagine a world without you
I want to hurt the ones who le

dust.I'm choking
on the ink-dipped fingers
of verbs & metaphors
still lodged in this bruised,
paper crane throat;

the starving,
dead-flower scent
of your words,
still kissing my ribs.

How can you judge me-
when you don't bother
to read the naked poetry
beneath the temple of my flesh?

How long can butterfly
ankles hold up a
star-soaked frame?

Don't bother whispering
your secrets to nebulae,
not even the dust in my veins
will listen anymore.

I want to forget names,& faces,
& people.

I want to forget their veins,
fingerprints forever burned into my eyelids;
wrists I can't look at
without longing to tear apart.

Spine full, and spiteful:

I want to cry
roses in my midnight tea
for these star collapsed lungs.

I want to cry for her
& for me.

But Shame,
she wont allow me the courtesy.

No wander about it, just lust.You were a mid-morning train wreck,
the embodiment of poetry.

& my clavicles whispered too many nothings
about your summer storm hands,
folding like paper cranes
to make wishes upon themselves.

wishes are for the weak-
stand up,
do something about this quaking heart
& freezing fingers.

Anything.

I think I found God then,
lurking behind wanderlust eyes.

The PoetThe Poet:

He smiles as he sees her sleeping
& gently covers her with a blanket.
He goes to the window and looks out
watching snow fall, ever so slowly...

He sees people in the streets,
Chatting, walking. Some happy,
Others sad. Hearts beating,
Hearts broken; some warm, some cold.

He looks back at her, as she stirs in bed.
A yawn from her, brings another smile to him:
"How cute," he chuckles as he strokes her head.
He runs his fingers through her hair and is content.

Yet, even if he is happy here, again -
He is drawn to that window and finds himself
Staring out at the street and watching;
Marveling at the disparity and wonderin

These Words Aren't PrettyThese Words Aren't Pretty:

My verses are ugly and I admit to the fact
I can't use pretty language when I'm working with rap
Because the things that I write, are just the things that I feel
I ain't an Edgar Allan Poe or a Danielle Steel

And I'll be honest with you, I've got an envy inside
Because some poets got a flow that's as smooth as the tide
I read some stuff that they write, it's just so dope I ignite
Burning shame and my anger at the beautiful sight

And like birds of a feather, they're flocking together
These poets are the Gods and I'm nailed by the weather
But as the rain pours down, lightning resound;
I try to write pretty

FrostI am devouring chaos,
chasing it down with winter's chill.
Spare me your fingerprints,
summer's lovechild. Those knowing owl eyes
have me second guessing the wild churning
in my bones. You are the sleep that sweeps
my eyelashes, drowning me in my own daydreams.

When was it...
that you plastered yourself to my ribcage?

Writers BlockThere is a heart in a ribcage
And a brain sitting in a skull
There is a history that is void
And potential which is null

Just puddles of inspiration
Where the vast ocean once sprayed
An endless tide of moonshine
Swelled upon my parchment page

There's a brain sitting in a skull
There is a heart in a ribcage
There is ink in my fountain pen
But still no words on my page

Just embers of inspiration
Where a great fire once roared
I'll stoke it with those memories
I've been afraid of and ignored

Every Time With The Same BrushEvery time with the same brush
This girl paints so many strokes
Each one speaking of emotions
Louder than the words she wrote

So where does the magic lie,
Allowing this girl's mood to swing?
Is it in the paint or the colours,
The feeling of release it brings?

She lets go of those emotions
That are too painful to express
The open ear of a loved one
Now an empty white canvas

Cathartic is the process
With her dainty little strokes
Thick layers of paint will take us
To land's nobody else knows

Now she paints with love for us
And happiness in her heart
The trees, the flowers, the sunset
The smiles, the eyes, the stars

Every tim

Memories of WarMemories of War:

What is this long-lost memory inside?
Where oceans turn; what have we left behind
With star-burned wings out above the sky.
The sleeping sons are lovingly left to lie...

A thousand tears you've cried for all,
Now its time for you to fall!
Will you open up the door,
To the future we ignore?

Are you simply lying broken,
From the memory awoken;
Are you simply living lies,
Bitter taste with ropes you tie...

And the world will soon forget.

Fill my heart with this regret?

For the victims written in stone.

Unspoken sin you now atone...

Yeah I've seen this world where we livin' in pain,
Wrap my body round with chain

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Fondly remembering good friends with each bottle slid into place,
Fondly remembering their wives and their children,
Fondly remembering their funerals.

It's hard to say why I feel the way I do.
Most likely an overreaction -
The only type I seem to have as of late.

It's as if this place is an affirmation of all my fears,
With dirty plates and clinking cutlery,
With fake smiles and false laughter,
With the way that,
When that uniform is donned on,
I cease to be human,
And I commence life as a living machine.

This is the cage in which I'll be trapped if my aspirations

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Submitted: December 18, 2012
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Dear You

by ~tribble-of-doom, Dec 18, 2012, 9:55:25 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Dear You

You are a hurricane.
You are a volcano.
You are a flurry of beautiful violence;
A plume of volcanic ash cast into the sky.

You are all the voices of the world;
A scream and a whisper and a sigh.
You are the beauty of the earth;
An exquisite wildfire, divine in its destruction.

And you are so strong.
You are stronger than this weight on your shoulders,
You are stronger than this emptiness in your chest,
You are stronger than all these things that dare get in your way.

You will charge past these things;
These regrets, these desires, these insecurities.
You will get through every pitfall and mistake and slipup,
And you’ll be made better for it.

You are unbeatable, unconquerable and unstoppable.
Every obstacle, an opportunity,
Every failure, a lesson.
You will beat this because you are better than this.

You will beat this because you are you.
And that is a powerful thing.

Dear Youby ~tribble-of-doom

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Sometimes people need to be reminded that they are badasses who can do anything.

Comments very much appreciated!

Critique by ~mad-hat-ink Dec 20, 2012, 7:36:11 PM

First off, amazing poem!
Some random suggestions just based on my thoughts, which aren't worth much, but here ya go:

"You are a hurricane.
You are a volcano.
You are a flurry of beautiful violence;" -- this is what caught my attention and I think it is perfect. beautiful language and powerful word choices.

"A plume of volcanic ash cast into the sky." this is where you lost me bc the language isn't as pretty and strong as what came before it. I think I'm looking for a stronger word than "cast", maybe? A more violent/actiony word? I'm not sure. maybe say magma instead of volcanic? might sound hotter. A plume of magma thrust into the sky? A plume of... I dunno. Just thinking "out loud" here.

I didn't click after reading that line I quoted above, but then I saw you had 163 comments so I decided to read it and clicked then read the whole thing. The rest is extremely fucking beautiful.

only other comment, I don't think you need the last line, the "And that is a powerful thing." bit. To me, it's already clear and strong without that. But since your audience is probably more general than literary (though literary too)--according to your purpose for writing this poem, maybe leave it? Wow, talk about contradicting myself huh? Lol anyways...those are my thoughts! Really inspiring piece and I am sure I will re-read when I need encouragement... Thank you, tribble-of-doom!

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Critique by !DragonSlayer719 Dec 19, 2012, 9:00:11 PM

Like a prospering nation, your words are inspiring and cheerful. It showed me that people have nothing to fear; only fear itself. Fear kills the mind. Your words makes me want to try for success. It makes you feel like you can do anything. It strengthens natural, positive feelings. It raises morale. It is empowering. It reminds us that we are humans, and that no one should fear anything. I'll give your poem five stars. Because it reminds people of their potential. No matter the nationality, no matter the disasters. We have a value in this world. We are humans. We can do anything.

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~Monsoon19 Apr 22, 2013 New member

This is beautiful!

~cjsylvester Feb 9, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

:') thank-you

~yaoi-bugg Jan 15, 2013

today was one of those days that i spent alone, thinking about everything i had to deal with all at once
so i decided to see what dA had for me and ran into this
it was just what i needed
thank you :]