Jonut
Wanna Blessed Be
Hey guys,
I had a search for a thread like this and all I could find where really old threads so thought I would start a new one. Is anyone on here a writer with anything they would like to share? Poems, stories, songs, anything creative, put it in here. Or do you have a favourite piece of writing you'd like to share from someone else?
Hopefully we'll get to read some musings from the brain, or learn about what people to enjoy to read and whatnot. I understand that if people write themselves they may not want to share.
I guess being the starter of the thread I should go first. God I haven't wrote in so long and hate the annoying rhyme schemes so forgive them...
'Her Mistress'
For years it's been her mistress,
The driver of her train,
A conductor of her orchestrated
Aria of the brain.
It has mapped out all her footsteps,
It whispered through the air,
Each time she stepped outside her house,
She inhaled it, unaware.
It's always been her captor,
Her burly matador,
She never saw the red rag,
Until she crumpled on the floor.
It's been her circus master,
In her carnival of lies.
She's simply just a puppet
that it loves to victimize.
She tried to break it's shackles,
They were strong and bound in steel,
The chains would tighten closer
Any time she tried to heal.
It bubbles in her diaphragm
She hiccups down the signs,
She wont let anyone close to her
Know it's the master of her mind.
For years it's been her mistress,
The gun has voiced to start the race.
If she doesn't outrun it fast enough,
She'll be trampled in the pace.
'Little Girl Old'
The curtains flap against the windowsill,
The window, opened to voice some hope for air.
It's chilly but it's left to fuel the drafts,
The room inside is derelect of care.
Theres ambers burning in the next room down the hall.
There's heat there deep inside the stacks of books.
But back inside the chamber left in cold,
A girl ignores the constant sideways looks.
The sheets are crisp and white upon her bed,
She sits upon the floor thats made of tiles.
Her hands finger the ribbons sat on her lap,
They ripple through the shades of blue and golds.
Her hair cascades in curls down by her cheeks,
The perfect way to hide away the tears,
That drip down close beside her teddy bear.
Whose seen everything that she's seen
All these years.
Decades past now and his fur has left in clumps,
He's missing one eye now and his smile
Is wonky from the time she tried to sow
Him back together to wile away the time.
She doesn't care that people find it strange
At thirty, how she still keeps him close to hand,
He's the only one that knows the truth,
That can look her in the eye and not reprimand.
She loves him even though he's far from clean,
She can understand that dirty feeling too
And sees the patches of his stuffing bare,
She figures thats how she looks sometimes here too.
Her frock is stained with food and god knows what,
She's never really kept up with the times,
Her ankle socks and sandals are not so new,
But fashion where she is is hard to find.
She hears the whispers once more down the hall,
She fidgets and she pulls down at her wrists.
For at this zoo it's nearly visiting time,
A time which she would gladly try to miss.
She pulls the bracelet thats fastened round her wrist,
She holds the teddy safe under her arm,
The words emblazened on the plastic cuff,
Will never leave no matter how much she tugs, alarmed
Her name, her doctors and her allergies,
They say too much about her when they come.
So when she can't remove them once again,
She sinks deep back inside her mind, succumbs.
When the vistors enter her room,
And shut the window, killing all the cold.
They find her with a grin framed by her curls,
A little girl whos never felt so old.
'When is it enough?'
Is it enough to make her breathe,
Enough to make the wind blow through her hair?
She's timid and she thinks she's make believe,
When everyone around her seems so fair.
Are the words enough to make her stop,
Those melodramatic antics in the night,
When everyone around her feels so lost,
To her, the only light around is dark.
Will the man beside her learn to cope,
Cope with the semantics of her thoughts?
She's comatose but brazen with desire,
To see through all the poisons and the loss.
A tattered china doll lies on the shelf,
The dainty features mock her through the dust.
The limp, hard pieces of ceramic toys,
Perfects her skewed visions left of trust.
Is his touch enough to stop the fear,
Of intimacy in her blacked out room?
Will blankets mask the scent of discontent,
When the visions meet her, writhing in full bloom?
Is it all enough to keep her sane?
Her clothes piled high around the moving mass,
Of pleasure masking unrelenting pain,
Of innocence reconciled once more at last?
Will the world around her see the clues,
The hints of what she lost and and has still to find?
Will someone see the flares she tries to send,
Subtle now because they've dulled within her mind.
Are the words of strangers passing by
Enough to bring her conscious on the street?
Enough to stop her thinking of the man,
And running through the blisters, to retreat?
Will the desolation melt away,
When he wraps her soft inside the shell?
Of lust and passion deep inside the life,
Of the cracked and jagged lifestyle in which she dwells.
Or will she always forget inside to smile,
And to inhale the morning's fresh and cleansing air.
How easy it is to just suck in and breathe,
Than being lost, fragile, broken and unaware.
I had a search for a thread like this and all I could find where really old threads so thought I would start a new one. Is anyone on here a writer with anything they would like to share? Poems, stories, songs, anything creative, put it in here. Or do you have a favourite piece of writing you'd like to share from someone else?
Hopefully we'll get to read some musings from the brain, or learn about what people to enjoy to read and whatnot. I understand that if people write themselves they may not want to share.
I guess being the starter of the thread I should go first. God I haven't wrote in so long and hate the annoying rhyme schemes so forgive them...
'Her Mistress'
For years it's been her mistress,
The driver of her train,
A conductor of her orchestrated
Aria of the brain.
It has mapped out all her footsteps,
It whispered through the air,
Each time she stepped outside her house,
She inhaled it, unaware.
It's always been her captor,
Her burly matador,
She never saw the red rag,
Until she crumpled on the floor.
It's been her circus master,
In her carnival of lies.
She's simply just a puppet
that it loves to victimize.
She tried to break it's shackles,
They were strong and bound in steel,
The chains would tighten closer
Any time she tried to heal.
It bubbles in her diaphragm
She hiccups down the signs,
She wont let anyone close to her
Know it's the master of her mind.
For years it's been her mistress,
The gun has voiced to start the race.
If she doesn't outrun it fast enough,
She'll be trampled in the pace.
'Little Girl Old'
The curtains flap against the windowsill,
The window, opened to voice some hope for air.
It's chilly but it's left to fuel the drafts,
The room inside is derelect of care.
Theres ambers burning in the next room down the hall.
There's heat there deep inside the stacks of books.
But back inside the chamber left in cold,
A girl ignores the constant sideways looks.
The sheets are crisp and white upon her bed,
She sits upon the floor thats made of tiles.
Her hands finger the ribbons sat on her lap,
They ripple through the shades of blue and golds.
Her hair cascades in curls down by her cheeks,
The perfect way to hide away the tears,
That drip down close beside her teddy bear.
Whose seen everything that she's seen
All these years.
Decades past now and his fur has left in clumps,
He's missing one eye now and his smile
Is wonky from the time she tried to sow
Him back together to wile away the time.
She doesn't care that people find it strange
At thirty, how she still keeps him close to hand,
He's the only one that knows the truth,
That can look her in the eye and not reprimand.
She loves him even though he's far from clean,
She can understand that dirty feeling too
And sees the patches of his stuffing bare,
She figures thats how she looks sometimes here too.
Her frock is stained with food and god knows what,
She's never really kept up with the times,
Her ankle socks and sandals are not so new,
But fashion where she is is hard to find.
She hears the whispers once more down the hall,
She fidgets and she pulls down at her wrists.
For at this zoo it's nearly visiting time,
A time which she would gladly try to miss.
She pulls the bracelet thats fastened round her wrist,
She holds the teddy safe under her arm,
The words emblazened on the plastic cuff,
Will never leave no matter how much she tugs, alarmed
Her name, her doctors and her allergies,
They say too much about her when they come.
So when she can't remove them once again,
She sinks deep back inside her mind, succumbs.
When the vistors enter her room,
And shut the window, killing all the cold.
They find her with a grin framed by her curls,
A little girl whos never felt so old.
'When is it enough?'
Is it enough to make her breathe,
Enough to make the wind blow through her hair?
She's timid and she thinks she's make believe,
When everyone around her seems so fair.
Are the words enough to make her stop,
Those melodramatic antics in the night,
When everyone around her feels so lost,
To her, the only light around is dark.
Will the man beside her learn to cope,
Cope with the semantics of her thoughts?
She's comatose but brazen with desire,
To see through all the poisons and the loss.
A tattered china doll lies on the shelf,
The dainty features mock her through the dust.
The limp, hard pieces of ceramic toys,
Perfects her skewed visions left of trust.
Is his touch enough to stop the fear,
Of intimacy in her blacked out room?
Will blankets mask the scent of discontent,
When the visions meet her, writhing in full bloom?
Is it all enough to keep her sane?
Her clothes piled high around the moving mass,
Of pleasure masking unrelenting pain,
Of innocence reconciled once more at last?
Will the world around her see the clues,
The hints of what she lost and and has still to find?
Will someone see the flares she tries to send,
Subtle now because they've dulled within her mind.
Are the words of strangers passing by
Enough to bring her conscious on the street?
Enough to stop her thinking of the man,
And running through the blisters, to retreat?
Will the desolation melt away,
When he wraps her soft inside the shell?
Of lust and passion deep inside the life,
Of the cracked and jagged lifestyle in which she dwells.
Or will she always forget inside to smile,
And to inhale the morning's fresh and cleansing air.
How easy it is to just suck in and breathe,
Than being lost, fragile, broken and unaware.
P
punkypower
Great work!! Can't decide on a fave..