[x]

Play a Song"Hey, want to hear me play a song for you?"

A girl's voice broke the large man out of his concentration on his computer screen. He nearly jumped off his bed in surprise.

The girl laughed suddenly. "Calm down, big bro. It's only me."

The man sighed. The weeks of little sleep, intense workouts and long workdays was wearing him thin.

"I have to go to the gym," he declared.

"Why?" the teenager asked, "Didn't you go this morning?"

"I have to go again. I'm doing my shoulder workouts."

The girl walked closer to him, staring at his huge, muscled back and arms.

"Please," she said, trying to lessen the unspoken tension in the air, "You can alre

Puzzle PiecesI don't want to be
a puzzle piece
that just fits right inside.

I don't want to be
a difficult piece
you make fit by pounding on.

What I want to be
is that one piece
that everyone misplaces.

That lone piece that's lost
under the couch
or between the cushions.

That strange piece that
everyone hates when lost,
but adores when found.

That simple piece that
everyone wants
and everyone searches for.

That perfect piece that,
when found,
completes the puzzle perfectly.

That independent piece that
can easily fit,
but doesn't want or need to.

That free piece that
will appear to you
only when it's fully ready.

That one piece that
will change ev

Clear Tears and Vivid BloodAs I stared into the blackness,
I began to think and wonder:
"What if these tears are blood?
What if my blood is a river of tears?"

What if, in the darkness of night,
because of my impaired vision,
I am not able to be sure
of the color of my tears?

Perhaps, in reality, they are red.
The tears that are falling on my pillow
are not saltine water drops,
but rivulets of blood.

Should daylight eventually come,
everyone would be able to see
the bitter tears I'm crying
without a chance of hiding.

And what of the blood in my veins?
That, of course, is replaced
by the clear, clean water of tears,
salty, stinging, and invisible.

Should my skin be

200 Plastic StrawsTwo-hundred plastic straws
are scattered on my floor.
They haven't moved an inch
from where I dropped them there before.

A multi-colored frenzy
is dancing on my tiles.
Ghosts long past
come flying back
to stay there for a while.

The straws slipped through my fingers
and so, they all tapped down
like the movement of a second hand,
eternity, an hour.

They fell away, as does the past,
so pick up every piece.
Throw it away or use it well,
or its dance will never cease.

Two hundred plastic straws,
or at least, that's how it was.
Now a hundred ninety-nine lay there,
a pink one in my glass.

CrowsNothing's changed, we're still alone and while
crows fly high, we stand our ground.
The sky is black and the door is open,
but can we choose to make it through?

Save your strength for now,
we'll be fine, my love, just wait
And I know that's what you hate,

But soon we'll be inside,
the room is lit and we won't say goodbye
to this life we've made.

Pull together, don't be scared
Though the night is dark as the wind grows strong
The bond we have is all we'll need to
fly away from this wretched place.

Spread your wings for now,
imagine the skies
and so, soon we will rise.

In a world where humans race,
all power-hungry and selfish,
we have mad

SisterI am so fed up.

It's the last period of the day, and I just want to go home.

Just a few more minutes...

Can't he please wait just a few more minutes to keep talking?

Because, to be honest, I'm really tired of hearing him speak.

"Sis!" he calls in a not-so-very-discreet whisper across the room, earning him glares from other people around him.

The girl he called to turns around in her seat and faces him, though she is clearly not his sister. There is a perplexed smile on her face as she tries to decode his frantic hand gestures. She rolls her eyes as if this was a normal occurrence to her (which it probably was) and continues with what sh

How to Save a Life"It's time for me to go now."

As if answering the girl's solemnly spoken words, the summer wind blew across the empty roof in an almost excited fashion. It blew her nightgown against her legs as she turned to face it. The night was lit brightly by the shining buildings and streetlights, but all of them seemed dim to her.

"Why?" an angry voice cried out behind her, and even though she knew he was going to react this way, she couldn't help but flinch.

"You know why," she replied, her tone eerily calm. It was at that moment that she felt a hand grip her bare arm roughly. She began to wonder whether he knew how much he hurt her, if he knew tha

A Poetic MessThere's nothing to do.
How about writing haiku?
Poetry is fun.

It's so tiresome, though...
Five, seven, five syllables?
Why those three numbers?

I don't like haiku anymore,
so how about ABCB?
That's a good rhythm, I suppose,
it's easy to write and read.

ABCB gets old so quick,
ABAB is more my style.
I think these rhymes are making me sick,
but, I'll still rhyme for a while.

What rhythm to use?
Oh, perfect, look what I've done.
I'm back to haiku.

Poetry just isn't my thing,
I can't decide what rhythm to stick to.
What's wrong with me? What should I do?
ABBB? Well, I guess that's new...

Screw these stupid rhymes,
I'm doing free verse.
...

Lost and Found'Every day is exactly the same,
Every day is exactly the same.
There is no love here, and there is no pain.
Every day is exactly the same.'

"You got that right, brother."

Plucking the headphones out of her ears, she turned the volume up on her music player as loud as it could go. The music could be heard through the small room, and she spun the wires around her fingers.

"Around and around they go, where they stop, nobody--"

The buds whipped her fingers painfully, the length of the wires wrapped tightly around her hand.

"Go figure. Everything ends, doesn't it?"

She sighed, and as she got up off her bed, she noticed her phone on her nig

If OnlyIf only our lives
could be like the hills;
Rolling on forever
with peace and simple beauty.

If only our hearts
could be like the stars;
twinkling and shining
as a beacon to all.

If only our minds
could be like a lily;
sweet and pure white
among a rainbow of colors.

If only our hands
could be like a blank paper;
washed of the blood
from all the sins we've committed.

It's that wonderful day.People are confessing, some already dating
Hearing so much “I love you”, it’s driving someone crazy
So let’s exchange hatred with love and just get along
And celebrate the day by listening to a corny song

Singles shouldn’t cry or start weeping inside
Just wait for the one, even if it takes a long time
Couples show your love, but explicitly has always been grime
Nimble kisses and a hug, anything else will be when you reside

Just remember to show care to the one who’s fair
It’s Valentine’s Day after all, and I’m sure you’re aware
That the “special someone” is waiting

Worth A Thousand Words“Daddy, can you teach me how to draw?”

The five year old girl cautiously entered the dimly lit room, eyes wandering curiously at her surroundings. It wasn't often she was allowed to stand in this room, and so she wanted to savor the rare moment.

The man sitting inside the study sighed audibly. Pencils were scattered across his desk, his paper coated in various amounts of graphite.

“I'm busy right now,” the man said tiredly, “and I need to have this done for a client by tomorrow. Go play.”

The girl replied defiantly, “But Daddy, I want to learn how to draw just like you! Someday, I'll be a famous a

LullabyHush now my little one
It's time to rest your head
Hush now my little one
It's time to go to bed

Forget your troubles little one
Let the sandman wash them away
Forget your troubles little one
It's time to end the day

Close your eyes my little one
I will never leave your side
Close your eyes my little one
No need to want to hide

Don't fear the dark my little one
Nothing can sneak up on you
Don't fear the dark my little one
I will help you through

Sweet dreams my little one
Let pleasant thoughts fill up your mind
Sweet dreams my little one
Who knows what you will find

Goodnight my little one
Sleep peacefully like a dove
Goodnight my little

On A Rainy DayI awoke this morning to the gentle patter of rain,
It drummed and drummed, the rhythm never the same-
When the dark clouds came
Everyone was in dismay
But not I,
For I felt all my pain
Just wash away with the falling rain.

I smiled and arose
Looked down from my window and found my mother’s rose
Beads of water dripped from its vibrant pedal,
Facing their life’s ends with such mettle.
I smiled and whispered “beautiful”
For this,
The joy from the sight, was plentiful.

Each small droplet landed with its own individual thud
Bursting on the glass
And racing down, so fast.
There must have been a hundred of those small outca

LockedLocked

So long ago
I've been trying to escape
Giant walls grow bigger
In my place

There is not place for anyone else
Just loneliness and myself
Heavy air is what I breathe,
Heavy tears are what I expect

Lonely whispers surrounding me
Adding more weight to my chest…
This pain around me is so dense,
It can be cut with a blade

Thousands of swords are falling
Willing to hurt where they can…
Painful cries are drowned,
By cruelty herself

Long I've been running
From here, to there…
Locked in a concrete prison,
Locked in a trees jail…

What is the difference
Between being alone here, and being alone there?
I am a captive in this

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Together We Are Strong"So warm," I hear a small voice whisper.

I sigh and get up from where I was uncomfortably laying. The sand moves beneath my body and sticks to my sweaty palms. Why we had chosen to come to the beach during winter, I will never understand. I stand up stiffly and look up at the sky; dawn is approaching.

"What are you doing, big brother?" my little sister calls, her high pitched voice again penetrating the cold, silent air of the beach. She is sitting next to the fire it had taken me an hour to make, warming her hands near it. She is wearing our only blanket around her small, shaking shoulders.

I don't reply to her question, but instead take

BrotherI was so used to having my older brother around, and I went to him for everything.

Especially when I wanted something. Because, really, what are little sisters for?

As he walks in, I say in a melancholy voice, “Hey.”

He screams and puts his hand to his heart in a mock-startled way. He lets out an exaggerated breath. I ignore him and say, “There's no food anywhere!”, over-expressing my hunger.

He tells me to follow him into his room. He walks over to the plastic bag that I saw him walk in with.

“Will this work?” he asks, holding up a bag of lightly salted Lays potato chips.

“No,” I reply,

Six-Word Story: TruthTruth is not a relative term.

MinesweeperLife is like a game of Minesweeper.

Nobody really knows what it is or how to get through it.

Sometimes you get stuck in difficult situations, and you just want to start over.

You're driven to giving up.

You make stupid choices.

You're driven to take guesses and leaps of faith; sometimes they work, sometimes they don't.

You just click the wrong button, and it ends up ruining everything.

Once in a while, you're given a huge handout. Other times, just a small piece.

You don't know why you keep going on with it.

But you're damn well not going to close out the window before you win.

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Promises, Promises

by ~SourAir, Jan 25, 2013, 12:38:14 PM
Literature / Poetry / Family Life / Concrete Poetry

You said you would come,
so why aren't you here?
You walked out of my life,
you disappeared.

I have so much to tell you
since I saw you last.
Don't you want to hear
all about my new class?

How I'm making new friends,
how I'm learning new things?
How everyone jumps up
when the dismissal bell rings?

I'm waiting here still,
staring out the window
of the room where we once sat
and spent the day watching videos.

My Sesame Street doll
sits at my side.
It's the one you gave me,
once upon a time.

My old blue blanket
sits around my shoulders
as I remember us playing,
until we got older.

The sun has long set
upon the great times
of sledding and monsters
and small metal slides.

The slam of a car door
breaks me out of my daydream.
I spring up towards the window,
and I'm met with a gleam.

A smile graces my face
as I jump up off the floor.
I run to the entrance
as you walk toward the door.

"Greetings and salutations
to you, good sir!"
"Calm down," you smile,
and things are as they were.

Promises, Promisesby ~SourAir

Literature / Poetry / Family Life / Concrete Poetry

He's still not here.

love 2 2

joy 1 1

wow 1 1

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~ninjakookies Feb 20, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Ok, critique time. _{This is my first one though, so sorry if it's bad in some way...}

Honestly, this is a very poem and had a good rhyme scheme. The only thing I have a problem with is that some of the stanzas are much wordier than others and sometimes, you use slant rhymes that dont go together very well, but that's just me.

Over all, this a a very good poem and I enjoyed reading it.

~SourAir Feb 20, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you very much! ^^ I agree with the problem with the stanzas. That's one of the things that bothers me a lot about this poem, haha. I'm glad you enjoyed reading it though! ^^

~ninjakookies Feb 21, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Welcome!
Yeah...

No problem! I loved it!

~MockingJay1256 Jan 27, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

I am at loss for words... You really have a talent and it shows plain as day right here. Absolutely amazing. Something I won't be forgetting for a long time.

Thank you twitter for featuring this wonderful piece of literature!

~SourAir Jan 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Wow, thank you so much!! That really means a lot to me!

I'm glad that it could make an impact on you!

Wait, Twitter? XD

~MockingJay1256 Feb 3, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

you're welcome!

and no joke. dA tweeted it under literature a while back.

~SourAir Feb 3, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Really?? I had no idea! XD Thanks for telling me about it!

~MockingJay1256 Feb 3, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

ha! you're welcome.

!ZahilaraBennett Jan 26, 2013 Student Writer

Okay. I really don't know what to say. This is sooo good. Your talent really lies in turning a story into a poem, and then just pumping it full of emotion. Really nice.

~SourAir Jan 26, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Wow, thank you so much!

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Promises, Promisesby ~SourAir

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