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BedriddenThe pile of tissues under my covers, wadded, snot filled and damp, brush against my arm when I turn over. The tissues are multiplying with every sniffle, every sneeze. I think I've lost a few tissues that will only be found months later,Bedridden
amongst the wayward socks
and lost homework assignments of yesteryear.
by *laura-beth467
ObservationsThe sticky, green table wobblesObservations
as I type these sorry words, shaking as if it is the epicenter of
a miniature earthquake.
The sky is overcast,
a surreal blanket
between my skin and the sun. Blocking out the light and the monsters above.
The roof is simply protection.
These fingers are simply translators.
by *laura-beth467
The Drive HomeThe headlights sweep over blackened grass fields as I hit the accelerator. Windshield wipers move methodically, back and forth pushing the hot rain from my view. August rains feel like showers outside, the humidity swells in your throat and chokes you. The rain dies down and I roll down the window, hoping and praying that the rain didn't suppress the smell of the burned fields. As the hot air hits my face a take a deep breath in and laugh at myself in surprise. The smell of rain and burning grass fills my chest and I reach my arm outside as if to grasp the passing wind. The speedometer tips sixty and I turn up the stereo. As the piano crescenThe Drive Home
by *laura-beth467
Hey, boy.I was just wondering, boy. You think you'd miss me at all if I up and left? Well yeah, that'd be mighty terrible of me, and yeah, I'd never do that to you, boy.Hey, boy.
Hey girl, you think it's possible to miss you when you are in my arms? Well yeah, you're with me, and yeah, what's there to miss afterall? But you think you'd ever think of me? Yeah, of course my stuff would be around, and yeah, sure, I might cross your mind.
I was wondering, girl, why can't I stop thinking about you? Yeah, I know you're mighty cool, and yeah, I'm a bit nuts. But, boy, you think you'd care if you never saw me again? Well no, no I'd never leav
by *laura-beth467
The Floor LightsLights flashed on stage as the last note rang through the near empty room. Cups and cigarette butts were strewn about the floor. Sticky residue covered all the tables. The last band on Friday night had just finished their set for the waiters, the passed out drunks, and the roaches in the bathroom. Jason moved back from the microphone, avoiding the smell of weed and vodka that had threatened to make him puke throughout their whole set. While the rest of the guys packed up their instruments, rolling up amp cords and putting guitars in cases, Jason stepped to the front of the stage and sat dangling his legs off the edge like a small child. The rThe Floor Lights
by *laura-beth467
Random Favourites
Yesterdaysby ~laurabeth
symmetry.lightning was her favorite. she'd pull her arm like taffy stuggling to tightrope on tiptoes needing to catch just one.symmetry.
Just a few inches more.
by =Osiristhrasher06
LimerenceThe gosling Sun is anchored, treading against tranquil tides, hoping for one more hour of floating time. A little mallard lost its way and with no strength to speak, washed up in a light foam littered with frosted sea sapphire.Limerence
You always bought two loaves - standard white and dark rye -
flocks made drip-drop ripples with ruffled feathers and played pretend; ponds were pines, they were woodpeckers.
Rarely do I see more than a
casual couple paddle-boating. Sometimes I wonder if it's
the brand I buy that's wrong; perhaps
by =Osiristhrasher06
ivory and wine.01.ivory and wine.
The asphalt stole the surface of the moon.
Lost, I found myself wandering in a war of
wispy winds. Cannon smoke smothered sycamore and bullied the day's new birth.
Remnants of a different time when beauty meant more than eyeliner and invitations - every guest lay comfortably under patchwork quilts of cotton grass
02.
A cemetery symphony had begun.
The epicenter of the boisterously calm crowd held a Parthenon, doused in
ivory and wine; Cupid was there, guest conducting, his Pegasus-w
by =Osiristhrasher06
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| My name is Laura, I attempt to write poetry, and some days prose. I'm an administrator for #Distinct. Everyone should check out *DistinctLiterature and submit to their magazine, so we can make it as good as possible. |
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