it's spring, now. we keep our curtains drawn after it rains because the rainbows still make you cringe. the stars are out at night, though, after clear evenings that wait and stick. you explain constellations to me because i never read the books. our bed is always left unmade because whenever one of us walks by it, we like being reminded of hungry hands and hungrier hips. you leave me shower-steam messages on the bathroom mirror. you make us dinner and i watch you stir, secretly using extra ingredients to spell out our initials near the sink. we watch a sad movie and i can't find the tissues, so you let me use your sleeve. "i bought you this.
Who Cares About...? by HaveTales-WillTell, literature
Literature
Who Cares About...?
WHO CARES ABOUT YOUR MISTRESS' EYES?
(A Rebuttal to Shakespeare's Sonnet CXXX)
Why should it matter in the least if her
Lips are coral red or pale pink?
If suntanned breasts are worrying you, sir,
You need your head examined, one would think.
And you honestly believe her cheeks and hair
Detract because they differ from the norm?
I doubt you'd find another who would care;
For as they are, they are indeed well-formed.
As to her breath and voice, I will concede
That reeks and rasps as adjectives fit well;
But Listerine will satisfy her need,
And huskiness in speech, a flaw? Do tell!
You love her, faults and all, or so you've said—
Your flying fingers kiss the keys
the blues bleed from the brass,
eruption of the subtleties
in notes as clear as glass
As wild and churning as the seas
the night of music's birth,
the sound crawls on its hands and knees
and smells of clay and earth
Painting trails of color as
the notes pursue their prey,
the smoky-hot tendrils of jazz
delve deep my core of clay
And slowly as the tones surround
and make my sick soul moan,
my very breath becomes the sound
strung from the saxophone.
a city in rhythm and jazz -.. by psychodrive, literature
Literature
a city in rhythm and jazz -..
an entire city in tears
singing jazz and rhythm
and jazz and the blues,
singing rhythm & jazz & the blues.
an entire city in tears
walking asphalt
with hands held
like walkways
between towers,
twisting the wind into whirlwinds of sound
& a red handkerchief flicking on the wind,
whipping & lifting the sound of the wind
& the necks of the crying
in one motion, one
waving, swaying, lilting, loving manyperson,
singing rhythm & jazz & the blues.
an entire city in tears
craning from windows & weeping,
sweeping the dust dragged past the parks
with their eyes.
with their eyes: dust-dragged
As you embroidered autumn
into my bones, I heard the
trees giggle to themselves:
"We're going to make all
the leaves change color,
pin them along the sidewalk
for you to follow and we'll
wreathe them in your hair.
You will be our daughter."
You folded apples into my smile,
making it crisp, but sweet. I
took the time to thank you by
shrugging off my sweater and
giving it to you. A daughter
of the trees, braided with their
leaves, needs no protection
from the elements that embrace her.
"Your leaf diadem suits you,
daughter," they say as
their branches weave between
gusts of wind. For once,
I believe them.
Raven Crow and Blackbird by After-Eden, literature
Literature
Raven Crow and Blackbird
And what have we here?
A black omen sits
on limbs just as bare
as the creatures raw bark.
This beast brimming in feathers
and soaking moon tide
as the brave hillside listens
to the chilled sounds of night.
The bird's captured in fables
and released on the breeze,
This demon noir brings
dead men to their knees.
Lady Raven
Friend of the Maggot,
Daughter of Death,
Your black plumed wings strike fear into the hearts of men.
Your icy call stabs at the soul, stealing those summers of sweetness and strength.
Your very presence weighs on the psyche, permeating the brain with thoughts like ice.
Freezing,
Chilling,
Your talons chase men in their darkest hour, daring them to escape.
You jeer at them in their time of sorrow, and alight upon the sobbing willow.
You wait and watch as men grow weak, awaiting the inevitable.
For you alone are
Lady Raven,
Friend of the Maggot,
Daughter of Death.
The Raven and The Crow by MindOfGenius, literature
Literature
The Raven and The Crow
Man, I HATE it when you pick fights all the time I wiped my face off with the sleeve of my trench coat.
Yeah, but you always hang in there and fight the good fight huh? Crow was casually sitting on a nearby ledge.
Its not like you helped; all you did was start it-
But I finished it too. Damn, he sure did have a way with snarky comments.
Only after I had taken care of him most of the way!
Yeah, but you wouldve had your butt handed to you if I hadnt come in. He licked his lips, cleaning off the small dribble of blood leftover.