Shapeless Emotion

The poison is running through my soul.

An evil, albeit minor in comparison

pumped through my body

by a magnificent instrument placed by God.

It moves freely throughout me 

with the rhythm of its beat.

A symbolic black strand of liquid holding no form,

floating helpless within my veins.

I am unable to control it

and sadly unable to release it.

It is a shapeless strand of life form

often hibernating for longs stretches of time.

giving me some pleasurable relief.

Even if only fleeting.

Then reborn as it re-enters the heart

giving me the spectrum of emotions which ultimately define me.

Pain.

Sorrow.

Hatred.

Ultimately it was gain form and block the passage

of the liquid where it now survives.

Then my heart will cease

and the evil will die.

Forever.

This was written for The Mag #170

The Unfinished

Gaze into nowhere

and look into eternity.

See the unfinished

in all its glory.

Its beauty is unique.

Your imagination grabs a vision

and expresses it in form.

Captured as only you can.

Shared with those who understand.

You see what is within and express it.

We only see what is before us and feel it.

You make us feel what you see

when you gaze into nowhere.

We are mere mortals needing your talent

so we can experience the within.

Show us beauty.  Show us pain.

Show us what is not yet there.

For you are an artist. 

For eternity.

This was written for The Mag #167

Let Blood Pour

 

I thought I would love.

At least once in my lifetime

with every ounce of my heart.

But it’s sealed within an iron wall

impenetrable to every emotion.

A wall built over time 

with the craftmanship of a skilled welder 

following the blueprint of a scarred soul.

Not a madman steered by ills

but a kind, gentle man protecting.

Protecting what… he never knows.

I yearn to love.

To torch an opening so blood can pour

and feel the emotion built up within me

all these years.

I thought I would love.

But I only protect.

My selfish self.

 

Written for:

 

Their Souls Weep

The silence broken by breaking waves

moving sand inward then outward.

Into the vastness and endless blue water

that have taken many a soul over time.

Listen to the howl of the crashing waves

or the slight whistle of the waters breeze.

And hear those lost at sea

cry for help from the depths below.

They couldn’t escape the waters grasp

nor nature’s wrath.

Their last breath taken away by

the very beautiful waters before us.

Hear their cries in the waves.

Feel their tears in the mist.

We see beauty from the beach while

they saw a beast from below.

Now their souls weep.

May we honor them forever.

This was written for The Mag #159

My Voice

I have a voice.  

A voice not mouthed.

One expressed along an artistic highway

from my brain through my fingertips.

Exiting onto paper, instruments or canvas.

For everyone to hear 

My voice is loud and soft.

My voice is dark and colorful.

My voice is high and low.

Often left to ones interpretation

and with hopes of stirring emotions.

Yet, it is my voice.

Expressed through my brain.

Yet from my heart.

Listen.

For it sings and speaks

in music, words and color.

My voice I give to you.

From my fingertips

to your heart.

This fiction was written for Picture it & Write.

Till we meet again.

Good Day.

Mind of Shoo

I am Me

I am me.

A complex being wrapped in skin

with a functioning mind of my own.

Some see me as stiff and cold.

While others see me warm and caring.

Get to know me for what I am

not for what you believe you see.

My flesh is not me.

My spirit is me.

My body a dresser

My mind its drawers.

Open them and you will find

The beautiful being I am.

Search those drawers

and you will find

the variations that make up me.

Close those drawers, then look and see

that I am simply me.

This was written for The Mag #157

I am a Literary Giant

I have exhausted all avenues.  My pile of rejection letters can account for its very own forest.  I have tried all genres.  

Poetry:

Rose are red violets are blue.  My writing smells like poo!

Or what about something deep.

Like this:

The raven flew above the home of those who are suffering.

Circling like a draft that swirls like the mind of someone in pain.

Those who suffer are not suffering but only feeling a pain that is not really there.  

Smile.  The sun is shining into your soul.

Oh yea!  Now that is deep.  Can you see the earth’s core from your spot next to that poem?  Bet you can!

Ok, lets try fiction:

My phone rings unexpectedly.  I answer with a quick “HELLO.” 

“Mr. Shoo, this is Aaron Priestly from the Aaron M. Priestly Literary Agency.  I stumbled across one of your stories on your blog.  The one about the guy who gets the girl and beats up the boy who had the girl. You know the one! Excellent writing.  Suspenseful!  You are a literary genius. I’d like to sign you to our agency.”

Wake up loser!  Your genius is getting people to waste time reading your crap.

How about speech writing:

“Our nation is at a crossroads.  Like one of our great leaders once said, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the oven. We are in a time of crisis.  When the going get tough, the tough go.  Our nation is one of division.  Long division.  And we have all failed math.  Expect for Bill Gates. And Lebron James. Pay your damn taxes and shut up.”

Wow! Where is Winston Churchill when you need him?  Or Martin Luther King. If that speech doesn’t get our ass in gear what will.

Want more.  Than stay tuned!  This blog is headed in the write direction.  You get it, right?  Or is that write?  Huh? Well you know what I mean.  My righting is improving. 

Like this.  Comment on this! Follow me.  I will be a literary giant!

This attempt at dry humor was written for Trifecta; Week sixty-five.

Using this week’s one-word prompt:

EXHAUST (transitive verb)
1a : to consume entirely : use up <exhausted our funds in a week>
b : to tire extremely or completely <exhausted by overwork>
c : to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent <exhaust a photographic developer>
2a : to draw off or let out completely
b : to empty by drawing off the contents; specifically : to create a vacuum in
3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely  

  b : to try out the whole number of <exhausted all the possibilities>

Please remember:

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.

• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

• The word itself needs to be included in your response.

• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.

• Only one entry per writer.
• Trifecta is open to everyone.  Please join us.

They Never Open the Gate

They Never Open the Gate

I feel all alone

in a world of millions.

I stand in clear view

yet no one sees me.

I would cry 

but no one would feel.

I would laugh 

but no one would hear.

I would touch

but no one is near.

I yearn for attention

but everyone walks past me.

Their tracks lead to beauty

that lies beyond me.

They never open the gate

to view the beauty within me.

This was written for THE MAG 156.

Too Long

We go through life not knowing those we once knew.

I hadn’t seen you in what feels like light years.

Now you are gone.

So sad.

Why did you leave us so soon?

In memory of my cousin Faye.

This was written for Trifextra: Week fifty-five.

For this weekend’s challenge we’re asking you to include some hyperbole in your piece.  It doesn’t have to be the whole piece, but it needs to be in there, and we’re looking for 33 words, as usual.

A Short Distance

Standing on the building 

seeking a facelift from time.

Scaffolding on the roof

unable able to hold

those who don’t want to be held.

So high above

So far below.

The distance between the two

separated by only seconds.

Feeling the air, hearing the thud.

Now motionless, breathless below.

In pain no more.

This was written for THE MAG 154

Write a poem or short vignette using the picture featured in this post as your inspiration. Feel free to take the image to use for your post.