Adnamarine

[pre]Love: the paradox that in the telling you have to lie in order to tell the truth; love that it is a good way to show the world as it ...

Feet. One, two, three. Each one different, Encrusted with dirt, the skin is leather. He takes them with his hands, dips them in the basin, one by one, rubs the ...

Used You always knew that I was a liar.You knew that I was aiming higher.You were never the object of my desire. You always knew that I was a liar. ...

I need an inspiration, something sure and free. It's as though the mist today has cast its gloom o'er me, and the rain has washed away all the words I ...

Shivers run down even in that warm place, her red-tipped fingers poised on the surface of the paper. Pen in hand, eyes closed, she murmurs, "Pen in hand, eyes closed, ...

Fly on the wings of an angel, come sit at my feet, as you sing on, your melody so sweet. Every note you sing here casts its spell,for you've the ...

"The paper burns, but the words fly away." -Akiba Ben Joseph Like a white pidgeon it flutters down, unsuspecting, to his hands. A sigh it utters, hanging open like a ...

It glares into the corners, thrusting their contents into view. The bare ones it discovers, and lights up all their flaws. It thrusts its glowing fingers into cringing faces, whose ...

July awakens, born from the middle month in the balmy peace of summer midnight. Heat neither slackens nor increases, quivers like a moth around a light, waiting for the moment ...

Let's see if I can do this when I'm angry. It's not called venting. That I did. I lashed out at those around me furiously. Strangers, stay out of my ...

Shooting Stars The sky is poetry; all shades of blue. At night it could be a circus canopy— after the show is over— points of white painted on the roof. ...

Torn If mirrored in the other’s face she found the image of the first the choice would be no simpler. The one—mature, open, striking. The other—sweet, amusing, familiar. He would ...

She is my phoenix, rising from the ashes of the old year, a past life, a neglected child. She is a new shoot, peeking over the snow just before spring's ...

To my unspoken name [edited version]Unthinkable thoughts can’tcome into existence without being thought.How do you learnknowledge unknown?I experimented with creationsneither as scientist, nor inven

Look past my depths. Look through me, To a darkness beyond, A blank wall. Succinct and Pertinent. Long-winded flames and Inspirational, enlightening light. Consistently inconsistent. I flare high and

If possible, please use the attatchment; that's the form I wanted the poem to be in. But I have it in the post just in case the attatchment doesn't work ...

Can I have a bit of earth?It won’t forget the one who gave itSeeds to grow. Why won't she ask for riches? It will freeze and kill— dream trees.They’ve been ...

SoundsThere is a hum of voices,Rising and falling,A cacophony,In tune and out weaving—A kitten purr, a hyena cackle,An opera soprano’s resonating… chirp:Purely instrumental,no the conductor's ha

He wasn't stale like Winter's breath.He wasn't naive as Spring's dreams,not disintegrating like Autumn's lightbefore our eyes.Varnished Summer.Far gone from the cold months' stripey shadows, we'llfind

First even semi-decent thing I've written in a long time. At least I hope semi-decent.

I haven't liked much that I've written lately. I'm not sure about this piece yet...

This turned out angrier-sounding than I meant it to. Written for an assignment about experiences reading realistic YA fiction.

Like a lot of my pieces, this doesn't feel finished. But I guess that's a matter of perception.