takingstockofwhatmattersmost: Open up your veins and accept Poison filled needles They make you feel good If only for a time Open up your heart and accept Poison filled words That make you feel good If only for a time Love is a dangerous drug
Side Note: This makes me love words. This inspires me to write my own alliteration piece just because this is interesting. Well job, done. stealingneverland: Sweet summer mornings sound simply sublime standing in the incandescence infused by light infiltrating interior corridors connecting yours to mine. Microscopic misanthropic malevolent benevolence between barricades and bridges that...
Side Note: Okay, found my favorite. Why is this not featured? It has exquisite imagery that calls to be held. Very beautiful. stealingneverland: Opaque melodies nestle inbetween your collarbones A reminiscent fra- grance, shuffles down your spine Spoken whispers caress your ears to find a home A blushing touch- is warm with love but cold with time
Side Note: This has rhythm. I read it out loud and the words project from my mouth but the words still stick to my tongue like it’s meant to be there. Bravo stealingneverland: Plastered peeling window panes Bleed a sad story Countless elbows Lingered upon its ledge Longing ...
Come Back Home
Side Note: I can relate to this. Which is unfortunate. But writing that is raw — touches you gently in a place you try to prevent reaching the surface, can really make you like such a scroll. stealingneverland: I miss the way you would say goodnight to me before I went to sleep, and how you were my mother and my friend. Now, we’re distant; and I’m afraid our bond’s whisper ...
Side Note: This here lady has won third place on my anon challenge and as the third place prize, I proclaimed I would reblog 5 of my favorite pieces written by her. And it’s relevant, because she is new on my dash — not so well known. Please indulge in the next 4 pieces. This one leaves me humble because rain is one of my favorite aspects of the world. stealingneverland: Misty dew...
Side note: One of my new favourite writers on here. Such beautiful prose should be read by everyone. “Where do poems get lost in the ocean?” surreallaerrus: They dwell sweet sorrows, among the shadows of the unknown. These creatures, and ghouls I’d like to call my own. For I am the only one who shall see them. Emotions overflow a bucket of unused words that mean nothing. Departing...
Side Note: Come on guys, I think we all can write something sultry. imprisonedphilosopher: It’s been awhile since I last did an anon challenge and I have some free time in the next two days, so… I want you to anonymously seduce me with poetry. There are some rules though. You are not allowed to use the word love and poems without any personal pronouns will be more highly considered. Prose...
Side Note: I’m in love with this. bodadesangre: I stood by the tides of languorous sighs, to rid from self, my skin of once it had been sealed in that your touch, and once it had been, dressed in that, our lust, and on the peek of the moon, I stood and waited for the hour before noon before you closed the door.
Side Note: If you read her poetry aloud, it flows delicately off the tongue. ineloquententity: I think about you naked. I think about stripping you down to your very atoms — sucking your blood dry and weaving your DNA into mine so that we never have to be apart. I think about you in my bedsheets — caressing my bare skin with your tender warmth. Wrapped-up and resting peacefully in dreams of...
mimikova: caught in his gravity i helplessly fall into him heating up like celestial debris falling to earth our passion a burning flash of brilliance though the tenderness makes pale the light of passion heat captured by a force i can’t comprehend but looking forward to it’s affects as our souls collide
Side Note: New writers, ah they are good. dreamsandashes: My words are weak and simple, but I try, deeper than a tree stretching skyward to the blue, harder than a gravity-kissed stone hopes to sleep to speak truly, for whatever that paltry little hope is worth.
ProlongSerenity: "I" did →
10ma24: Side Note: Wonderful play on structure and design. “I” did its not about he said she said he did she did its about what “I” said what “I” did “I” loved you “I” did “YOU” hurt me “YOU” did “I” forgave you But “I” will never forget what “YOU” did Its like “YOU!” made Incisions in “MY!” heart and….. “YOU” watched and waited until it was dead and dry ...
: Ashamed →
lacklustertothesenses: She said to me, “do you know who I am?” I honestly didn’t. Not a single clue. “you slept with my fiancé,” she said. I gave her an honest apology, I did not know. I never wanted to, that night many months ago. So much of me ripped at my heart that night. I left all sense behind, because the next…
theloserphenomenon: Expiration I hate that this has an expiration date a deadline when this heart will slow its beating if not flatline altogether It’s hard to enjoy anything when you know it has to end Especially now that the months are moving past, like a freight train, fast about to crash
Side note: There aren’t enough ways for me...
What is truth?: girls in pigtails →
aivlysann: One whispered “I can’t wait to meet my soulmate”. Two nodded agreement. Three sighed in anticipation. »»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»» Madeline “You don’t understand me anymore. I don’t think you ever did.” He asked her what was wrong and told her he didn’t know what was going on. “You don’t even care about me. You spend all your time playing your computer games or over at Tom’s house,...
Side note: Beautiful and uplifting. I love this. thewhitebetweenyourwords: For all the ones that aren’t enough. For all the ones that begin the story but forget the details: the kiss, the fight, the five-hour drive. There are those that dance upon the tightrope of your senses, spilling joy with every unhinged laugh. Those that change black to starry blue skies pin-pointed with innumerable...
Lie, Cheat, and Steal
animalitia: If you want to make it In this world, remember, Lie, cheat, and steal till You make it to the top; If you find that thought Inadequate, imagine If we worked together To create our own world.
theplotneedsmorebourbon: I’m a casual observer because people don’t like it when you stare at them.
Side Note: I absolutely love this. For some reason, I’ve also pontificated over the horrific majesty of the plastic bag. excroosemoose: i saw a plastic bag in a tree it was held against the sky like a cut-out ersatz body mimicking the soaring stars from where i stood looking it was the same size as the sun and the moon i wondered if it was waiting for someone to point a telescope at it...
stealingneverland asked: I just wanted to say thanks for the reblog, and nice side note, :) It really means a lot.
Railroads on his forearms showing me where to... →
Side Note: One of my favorite prose writers. She’s magnificent lightofsveta: Railroads on his forearms showing me where to travel next and I am inching closer to the halfway with a bullet lodged mid neck. Black coal burning hot and slow under my tongue so that when fever hits there is reason to measure. A sickness to cure. This is danger. I suppose I am still sane, but getting further...
Three Word Challenge.
girlbrokendown: I’m really enjoying writing this way so please, if you have three words to spare leave them in here and I’ll use all of them in a piece :)
Side Note: This sounds pretty. Poetry can be pretty. antmuni: Tangles of cloth, brown, beige, and white. I mummify in the open window light, missing organs like burnt down churches. But my heart, still caged behind bones so gently curved, it still belongs to me.
Sex Noir; she wants →
Side Note: I love reading about ironic, erotic women — the way men describe us females. savageleewriting: She says she wants to be a girl on my page. She wants to lay down on the cold white mattress of my prose, and she wants to become it. She thinks she’s got a crush on me, when she’s really just hungry for the bait. There’s something about her that wants to be helpless, but that’s...
Side Note: We write slightly similar, I noticed. This puts images into my head. stealingneverland: You called me last night while I was laying in bed. Said you missed the light way I laughed and how we used to spend hours wandering around each others’ heads, delving deeper against pockets of thought purposefully left unsaid. I missed the cadence of your soft voice as it washed over my skin,...
apocalypsepoet: Spider legs tapping away at The weave we weave our words of, Her nimble sonata waxes beyond the grasp Of the insects below her Witnessing things we cannot comprehend Through her poetic compound lens, And I embrace my simple cliche, If that her versed fangs would pierce my veins, Just to feel her touch upon me. And let death linger as it may.
Anon Challenge - Inner Conflict →
DO IT! smokeinatin: Written in either poetry or prose — either or will do, as long as it is no longer than the exceeded limit in an ask message. This must be an anonymous message towards me. If you accidentally send me this visibly, I will message you immediately without reading your post and delete it — hoping you get the message to resend it to me anonymously. This prompt is not just...
latekly: We talk and talk and talk. We talk with words, and we talk with tongues. We swap saliva in delicate wallflowers and reflect a fatal innocence. We talk with eyes closed and fingers full. We talk with our smiles married, tongues tied and twisted. We talk in sheets, we talk on couches, floors, bedrooms. We talk through lips and tongues and fingers and teeth. We speak a foreign tongue but...
Side Note: I really like the imagery in this one. shespeaksyvon: A war within me rages, emotion and reason take separate sides. Each knowing a part of my story. The warrior within me screams, muffled sounds bouncing against muscle, sinew, and skin. She prefers peace, but peace is for the sleeping and I am not dead yet.
Side note: A beautiful collaboration. So much stunning imagery in this piece, somehow it feels like a winter morning is hiding in between the lines. artreture: The passage Of the morning Gave way and Sang odes to the Moon that it may Show her beauty Radiate on the fading Atmosphere and join Stars who have written Themselves in Braille That a blind man could Reach out and narrate Stories no man...
Side note: I can relate to this, more than that, it feels like my life and it moved me. mustangkate: I became a collector at age nine. My mother’s face, wet and drawn, was full of meaning I didn’t grasp as she fastened my grammy’s favorite bracelet around my too-small wrist. I showed the trinket to my father and he choked, gasped, and held my arm to the light. Showed me the sparkles. Asked me...
Side note: I know that E.C is supposed to find the...
lacklustertothesenses: The pain is too much, I can’t sleep, I gasp for air. Inside my body I am shriveling, mummified organs. I roll over and stare into the ceiling shadows where demons play catch with their heads and lead me to the wrong doors. Outside I am acutely aware of the cars playing musical chairs with freeway lanes, My mind is a medley of my thoughts and a burning in my uterus,...
I could see for miles, miles, miles.: Quietly... →
dillettante: Slowly but incontestably You have managed to let me slip between your fingers like smooth sand, the large fragments of our beings no longer caught between the crevices but ceasing and falling through silently. They’ll come to tell you in the morning; how I had missed the talks. But some doors…
Side note: Beautifully written. I can relate to this, the feeling of wanting to know what you’re made of. Just so achingly real. “the moist droplets beating music into my back, echoing through my ribs and vibrating through my chest.” - perfect. keciasamethystheart: I was standing under the rain fall of my shower head. The moist droplets beating music into my back, echoing...
The Human Condition
Side Note: Simply put, perfectly said. bellumletale: We are nothing but skin and bones, the remnants of broken homes and the aftermath of conquered thrones.
white noise: acid oceans (collab) →
Side Note: LOVE THIS. velixir: Pull me under the surface of your skin, where your waves slam against fragile peaks of frozen volcanoes, drops of summer seep through broken bulwarks and cracked bones, and become my oceans of seething tears; tears which evaporate coaxed from that bitter ocean by the angry sun, dancing their rage across the furious sky captured in jagged lightning tongues which...
Prose – 6:20 AM (Always looking down)
Side note: This piece sounds like a realistic inner dialogue, maybe it is one but I like it, a lot. It just feels so familiar. parsley-sage-rosemary-thyme: I’ve noticed that when I walk I walk with my head down. Perhaps because I don’t believe that I deserve to look up, perhaps because I’m not confident enough to look up when I’m walking. Perhaps because I’m scared to see what lies ahead of me –...
Side note: I can relate to this. This sounds like my life, except this is written beautifully. andthisiswhyimguarded: Speaking is exhausting. The constant insignificant chatter one is forced to participate in to get by in everyday life is so… pointless. Nothing interesting is said. Pretty soon, people forget how to be interesting. So you talk, on and on, about nothing really. You fill up time...
It's alive... ALIVE! [Sick Muse] →
Follow follow follow. ordinarywonder: I think I’m going to run another side-blog. HAHA. Okay, I know. I make a lot of these, and they don’t always stick. Hey, I have a lot of free time ideas. I get bored pretty easily, but I think I can handle this one. Sick Muse This is going to be a clusterfuck of writing “prompts” ranging from movie clips, photos, websites, news articles, and actual...
Side Note: His works are always dreary and touching. apocalypsepoet: If you’re going to Haunt me so, Pursuing me through The black dead trees And jagged briars Of my heart’s hallow, Then upon my last breath’s eternal eve of night, I shall meet you in the twilight, Though you lay entwined in a Another’s loving arms, And I as cold as I am lone, Frozen from death’s cusp. So when they...
Side Note: When a piece of scripture makes you wonder — it’s worthy. amare-amaranthine: ‘How do you know what you’re doing is right? That the direction you have chosen is the path for you?’ ‘Does the rain ever stop to question what it is and where its going? No, never. It just falls without question, when it wants to, in sprinkles and in pours — and eventually it finds its way back...
Side Note: Wow. Just… wow. pinksubmergence: I slipped a note on the maple bed-side table where the enamel of a light slept in the morning. on the creamy, blank slate I wept my farewells letting a few salt beads fall, moisten, and dry. lost in heady slumber after a night of cheap kisses and wicked penetrations, I could no longer carry the guilt. sleeping with the enemy what...
Side note: I love this just as I love all of her words. She’s a wonderful writer. 5000letters: I’ve been busy weaving words onto cloth to make a cloak I can wear into dark forests to whisper poetry at the Moon and make her fall in love with me and sit amongst the branches of trees rustling the wind with my language and falling bump bump bump onto the ground to find metaphors shaking...
[her flame's wavelengths]
Side note: This caught my eye immediately, the concept and the way it’s been written are just beautiful. catalepsis: It resonates, your muddied judgment’s echo on my unshed covers — it does It turns shameful, your name’s aftertaste on my rigid spine — it burns It lasts, your 3am backlashes’ pain on my martyrdom — it throbs and r e s o n a t e s Skin me down and bare me to my pinnacle...
i wish i were a kid again. →
Side Note: This reeks with nostalgia. Raw, true writing here. the-peony: life can really suck sometimes as an adult. we all go through the rights of passage - being born, blossoming into an annoying toddler, ripping apart our parents belongings, going through single digits as devils spawn and then blooming into a nightmare of a teenage dream: experimenting with everything from drugs to...
Side Note: This is… incredible. patthepoet: The show of the sun was to arrive A death of another month were to show those curtains are open, Reverberation of voice runs in different ways Shine is in the wrong? Ice is in the right? A picture we do not see A picture, it is phenomenal Hot and cold never converge But they did Machines are screaming Confusion is in a seizure? The pencil is...
Side note: Stunning, sad but still strangely uplifting. whisperingdreams-decayed: My hourglass is cracked, with the sands of time spilling my memories. I hide the indent which I used to lightly smash it, with dusted books. I do not need time to remind me that I will heal- I only need myself, and the beauty the world surrounds me in.