the scars on your shouldersthe scars on your shoulders
are braille to me, so that i
can read your skin, so that i
can know you better.

i like to listen to your heartbeat
and how it resounds differently
from mine, just so beautifully
like two songs played in tandem
to harmonise in rounds;

i like to hold your hands
and rub your back
so that maybe my love
can find its way through your pores
and seep into your blood
(never can i find the right words
to tell you just the way you feel to me)

and to think that and how i nearly missed you
makes me miss you more
every minute and mile we spend
elsewhere.
i can't sleep with another body
in my bed,
but sleeping without you
leav

PocketLeftover religion in the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
A key that unlocks nothing
A penny, a scrap of paper
With half of your name
Written in black ink

A song that is usually in my head
In the shriveled carcass
Of a long-dead dream
In the pocket
Of my trenchcoat
With the lint

we are not a fairytalewe are not a fairytale.

I am not the strong lead with a heart of fire,
bones of steel, and eyes of vapid curiosity;
motivation seeping through
my every last intended action because
I was written this way

(the heroine falls only to rise again:
proverbial phoenix, burning out
because it is the cycle of my
life) and you, you are not

the beautiful travesty, perfectly composed
to strike me where I’m weak and
[almost]human, delicately woven
like the tapestry of my dismantling—
a subtle irony where somewhere, a writer
chuckles softly, understanding

we are blinder than church mice, born
in a makeshift world of darkness where
I&rsquo

Onceyour beauty lies restless behind those
hills, where you fought valiantly. and
the man you once were was brave and kind,
but now you are possessed by a passenger
of darkness, whispering words of your
loneliness.

the man you once were is forgotten, and
the man you are today, is only a ghost, a
shadow, of what you were before.

SurelyIt was raining
when we kissed for the first time,
for the last time.

Thin rivulets
sunk into the shrunken space
between our bodies
and divided us
like nothing could before,
like everything will
from now
until that never again
when we will
see each other once more,
no more.

Your eyes were
that bewitching shade
of dull brown blue
with all of the light darkness
whirling
in a placid pond
around a pupil
overflowing with vacancy,
and me
and my frowning smile.

The winter heat
fell like a rising tide
and,
for our every breath
was another death
so black and full of life --
embracing our boiled ice skin
as we drew apart,
came together and broke free

Condemnedbeneath the beaten earth they lay,
their dreams condemned to ashes,
and our restless bodies stretch,
for forgiveness, for direction –

survivors of the abyss,
amidst wide-eye, silent soldiers –
so many dead, so many maimed,

how many graves are we standing on, today?

Life, Death And A Pork Chop SandwichAll tangled up, hard to breathe
This steel cloud day that swirls
With heat and pounding hammers
I shake in my boots and cough up
Blood, rust and damaged flesh
Waiting for the second coming
Maybe next time around there'll be
Some chance for more than this

A twisted barbed wire halo
Wrapped tight around my skull
Blinding white light aura
Swarming with flies I'm flying
To pieces, thousands of shards
Cannot be brought back together
But I will remember the summer
Of my first Chevrolet in each bit

Gleaming bits of glass in the desert
Each reflecting a different moment
Still, now, enduring until the waves
Of a new ocean sweep them away
No pain

FossilizedLiving proof of fossils alive,
and no horseshoe-crab am I.

Nor, inhabitable harsh compression of plates,
residing under humid marsh-scapes.

I mold into the walls, as chalky old coal.
But I am no mineral, no era.
I am not, Mesozoic.

Through the ages
Iron
Bronze
silver, gold and heroic.

I remain a still-life; and no Iduna's apples would retain my youth
No magic fountains, or time devices, or wrist watches.
I am the machine of time.
The watcher, omnipotent, the wise.

But

no God am I

Somewhere, sweet tangy sap trolleys down cracked bark.
Somewhere, celestial bodies erupt unseen.
Somewhere, a abrupt breeze blows overturned bi-cycle tire

SisterSister

A sister is like a soul mate;
Someone who is always there
to guide me through fate.

A sister is,
a part of childhood that I cannot erase;
A sister like you,
is one that I would never replace
because you always know how to
put a smile on my face.

I know I can depend on you
to always be there for me;
This is one hundred percent guaranteed!

I've had great memories with you
in the past;
and I hope there are many more
to come,
in the future.

Puppet My tears fall,

like invisible

diamonds.

My heart beats,

like soundless

drums.

Unwanted,

because of the

strings attached.

bookworm“there is no such thing
as reading too much.”
that is what I tell you
when you insist

that there is some danger of
becoming lost in the stuff—
mistaking seriphs for serpents,

swallowing a story so whole
that its hook
sticks in my throat.

“there is no such thing
as reading too much”
I tell you, boldfaced,
surrounded by snakes
with a line through my lip.

HorsepowerHorsepower

There’s a knife turnin in my soft parts
And heat burnin my mind on hard starts
The motors runnin but I lost the wheel
Just want it to be numb don’t wanna feel
Take two steps back and put it in park
Before I leave scarred up black marks
I need a u-turn on this highway
But can’t go back on the by-way
So look ahead, the pavement goes on
Break the rear-view mirror it’s gone
Contemplate
Reiterate
Put it in drive
And say goodbye
Let’s see how fast this bitch can fly

-Cygam7

nightmarethe foxes are at your bedside and singing--
feversongs,
songs of boiling thoughts
and broken muscles.
their lullabyes.
they sneak so quiet, and
somehow,
you can't quite
dream
anymore.

Lost In ConfusionMy mind is spinning without a rest
emotions whirl and twirl around
A merry-go-round gaining speed
Until the world blurrs before my eyes
What's happening? What's going on?

The simplest thought slips away
Right from my mind, fading so fast
Trying to focus, I stare and stare
Until my eyes are heavy and unclear.
I don't understand, what is going on...

Emotions rise and fall again
Within the blink of an eye
I'm crying, laughing, and depressed
A rollercoaster ride that never ends
Am I losing my mind in this ?

I try to close my eyes and rest
But the world spins me around
I feel like I am failing this test
Voices and noisies echo in my min

Here and There, Now and ThenBurnt umber dawn, swaying electric trees
Thousands of souls chant in the summer wind
Journals of the dead are read by schoolchildren
They awake shaking someone else's dreams from their heads

Static electricity on the nape of your neck
In the television, on your phone, in your dinner
The calling of a murder of crows from the trees
You remember the view from the hospital room window

A smorgasbord of life and limb, death and decay
The antiseptic smell has an undercoating of rot and dirt
Talismans won't work any more than prayers and candles
Soldiers still fight lost wars, glory in the faded night

Tall fences are built to keep the worlds separ

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In A World Of Rain.

by ~sarah-15, Apr 29, 2008, 3:14:39 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

And in our minds,

We are the very commanders of our souls.

With paper hearts taped together,

A miracle, it will take, to survive.

As we runaway from all that we cower from,

Our hearts' paper edges soften,

With the tears spilled, seeping down within.

Our hearts begin to tear.

Wear and tear.

Rip and shred.

Such paper dolls we are.

Made from the thinnest of material.

The slightest rain would make us fall apart.

We are paper dolls,

Living in a world of rain.

So ask yourself,

Why are we running?

When there is no where to run.

38

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In A World Of Rain.by ~sarah-15

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Where should I go? What should I do? I don't understand what you want from me.

Keep smiling. :]
-Sarah

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!TroglodyteSpacebird Mar 5, 2010

Fantastic. You are so good at such young age. I wonder what fine writer will become of you in the future. One day you gonna publish a book maybe. Sad thing today is, poetry is not relevant to the modern book market anymore. The time of poets is pretty much over for the world. For the poets it will never be over. I come what we called the "Nation der Dichter und Denker" (nation of poets and thinker). It is all gone, this was in 19th century, maybe early 20th century. Then Hitler destroyed our nation and identity. I am glad there are still people who like poetry so much. Novels are much more market orientated. But we know, we just cannot stop write poems, huh?

~sarah-15 Mar 5, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

Oh, I would love to publish a book one day. It's on my list of things to do before I die. :] I'm so honored that you think my poetry is good! Thank you! I can definitely not stop writing. It's just such an important expression of who I am and keeps me sane. I have to write out my emotions or I will go crazy. I wish people did enjoy poetry more. It's such a wonderful part of art that should never be forgotten. :]

!TroglodyteSpacebird Mar 5, 2010

I will also try to publish a book. I dunno if there are much differences in the book market in the US and Germany. It is very boring and strict here.Famous people can publish books, no matter if they can write or not. Talent is zero-image is everything.

~sarah-15 Mar 5, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

Haha, that sounds quite a lot like here in the US. We have a lot of famous people writing and publishing. It's also the same here with, "Talent is zero - image is everything." So very true. I hope you're able to publish your book! I wish you the best of luck! :]

!TroglodyteSpacebird Mar 5, 2010

Wish you the same. Just keep in mind that everything you do is alright if you do it by heart. If publishers do not like it, it means nothing. Most of them have really no taste. They are only looking for cashcows. I prefer to die poor but honest, if this situation wont change.I wont betray myself for money.

~sarah-15 Mar 5, 2010 Hobbyist Photographer

Aww, thank you. :] And, I agree... money isn't worth that much at all. It is just paper, after all.

!TroglodyteSpacebird Mar 5, 2010

Money can buy nothing.If you have no love in life, money can do nothing more than satisfy your daily needs and shelter. All the things like entertainment are pretty worthless if you cannot share them with someone you love. Love of a friend or family, or love of your partner.This is how I see it. When I was single I consumed so much movies and other stuff. Buying things satisfied me for a short time. Watching the movies alone was no real joy in the end.I had noone to talk about them or noone that wanted to listen.I have no friends also.I found some after the teenage years, but they are all gone again. Only have a lose contact here now. We were friend once, but it did not work out so well. Since my girlfriend is gone I spend my time alone again. On weekends I see my mother at least. The best things in life can never be bough by any money. Humor, talent, love, nature...all so priceless.

~CBJ3 Apr 30, 2008 Student General Artist

Excellent poem, sweetheart.

Excellent visual properties as well as symbolism.

We run with faith. It forces the rain to part from us, and shows us the joyous ending of the long path we take. Take my hand, that's all I've ever desired, for I fear that if you don't... the rain may reach you. Please allow me to bring out the Sun.

~sarah-15 Apr 30, 2008 Hobbyist Photographer

Thank you, honey. I'm glad you like it.

~CBJ3 Apr 30, 2008 Student General Artist

You're welcome, sweetie.

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