GildedLily

A bit reminiscent of a hagiography. On ANOTHER note, this prologue is neither gripping nor poignant--in fact, its telling us that we 'will' cry, and 'want to help me' actually ...

Mainly I think that it depends on how well-formed the piece is in your mind before you write. If, in a sudden bout of inspiration, the idea justs come to ...

Mainly I think that it depends on how well-formed the piece is in your mind before you write. If, in a sudden bout of inspiration, the idea justs come to ...

Mainly I think that it depends on how well-formed the piece is in your mind before you write. If, in a sudden bout of inspiration, the idea justs come to ...

I need you to know, when the sun's eye brazens the treetops at the right angle, or when the too-white moon gapes in mourning at all beneath her that decays, ...

Motes of dust cloud the bottom of the bed, choking me as I pant the old air frenziedly. The grains in the wood are carving reddened murals into my skin ...

Rise Sunflower, rise To the sun of longing, rise From the weary, listless earth, rise In your heart and soul, and embrace the warmth of June. Sister, rise To your ...

Saccharine Honeyed words, slipping off a sugary tongue Amber, syrupy syllables gloss the air into a nebulous sheen. Ephemeral thoughts are branded everlasting, Illusions of grandeur crystallized in ma

Our One Duet If we were to have our one duet, The only song to sing together, let it be That we draw breaths on the same beat, That we ...

The Struggle of the Orchid In a fortress of shoots, leaves, and amethyst, Far away from the deceit of night and the torch of sun, The orchid is conceived. Curling ...

Viscous Memories When we first met, I did not see your face. Like an incensed mutt barking at the moon, streaks of wanton fire—flickering fingers harassing midnight’s hazy zephyrs—rose to ...

Retrodisco666, Yes, the ending is meant to be abrupt-- as if the whole entirety of the poem was more of a solemn burst of revelation to the narrator--and it is ...

Thank you very much!

Pin Your Regrets to the Earth This cemetery is a land of giants: Erudite oaks towering above, cooling the blunt tombs planted in the grass, markers the size of moon ...

Vestiges These nights are alone, hiding beneath the floor in a midnight’s cobweb with only a monitor’s light, dreaming of successes and contemplating failures.