I've actually written some kind of decent free verse lately which is unusual for me. Here's the first one, which I don't like as much

~ 

Roses, love, it’s all the same, really.

The thorns prick with resentment just as you do, and the wilting 

blossoms also yield to the ground, 

torn from the overgrown tangle of wood with barely an ounce of life left in it.

Have tea with your love in the garden -

but strain the rose hips carefully, my dear,

(strained like your laughter at another stinging joke),

And dispose of all the tiny hairs that itch. And hope -

For maybe, if you keep the conversation light enough, act 

like you know you’re supposed to, do things right - good enough - 

just this once -

You’ll never even realize the petals are the color of

Blood.  

the second poem

~

If i could throw open the back door to home, breath stuck in a cave that never stops because the cave is made of fear,

Pocket the lock picks made of dreams (dreams like cotton candy abandoned under a rosebush, cloudy mostly with mold at this point) 

and check they’re there again and again because i can’t trust myself and i’ve all i’ve got

(and wish there was no going back)

Step through the hall of mirrors - ignore the smoke - step over the scattered house of cards until

Light -

It’s only the carousel, horses’ eyes gleaming

(the carousel shouldn’t be lit at this hour)

If I could go back, redo 

Everything,

Never taste cloying real air

Live forever in the carnival of dreams, illusions, 

figments of my imagination (like friends and being myself because magic is the least of it)

And grow stories like glass lilacs and forget the real world (because the real world’s a venus flytrap and i’m the fly) -

Would I get lost in the mazes of rosebushes and friends?

Savor every cup of pumpkin cocoa and content?

Leave chaos far behind?

Would I be myself?

Would I be happy? 

Would i be free like the ghosts that are chained to this place?  

Didn't see your poems till now! But I JUST read them, and they are soooo good, as usual! I especially like the second one, the one that starts out with rain, I believe? Anyway, AMAZING stuff, and PLEZ dump more on here!

~Hawkstar, your avid poetry reader :P :DD 

If left is right and right is left

Then does the sun rise

In the west?

Do two wrongs truly

Make a correct act?

If day is night and night is day

Then is any time

Time of any? 

The sun with stars 

And the moon with blue?

If girl is boy and boy is girl

Then is everyone

Exactly the same?

Identities renounced

And blurred as one?

If good is evil and evil is good

Then is everything mixed

With no boundaries?

Any walls demolished

And all rules crossed?

If this is that and that is this

Then what are you reading

A poem, or song?

It could be this, or could be that

I’ll let you decide.

When it comes to poetry 

I think of the same things

Looped on repeat a million times

Water; the way it falls, dripping languid

As rain or swells in tidal waves

Over the word "Ocean," 

Words swallowed down smoothly

Or laced with venomed barbs.

Wings; on butterflies, bird and usually me,

Stars in a celestial ocean, bobbing

Casting their cool, pale light

Strained even harder by the song of the moon

Slipping silver over our heads and dulling our senses.

I write of the same things over and over,

Dolls and roses,

Strings being pulled backstage

Masks being fused to our faces,

Cold bleached white cooridors, 

And doors that shatter at the lightest touch;

Hearts and dreams together broken

With their owners, on the floor; 

Indigo and gold and liquid scarlet stinging

As they mix together, strands of emptyness. 

I write of the same things over and over again.

I am stuck, trapped --

Longing to run away, to hide,

But unable. 

Walls bleached white as bone,

Corridors tight and cold;

Floors polished with blood of the ages,

Pristine and shiny and pearly and fake --

After all, it's in the reflections I see them,

The ghosts of the long lost and abandoned.

I can see the tears they shed pooling at my feet,

I can feel their breaths; muggy, frosty and coarse.

I can fear the wailsm whistles in the dark

The wandering tread of deadened feet.

But they tell me it isn't real,

Just stories, tales

Told for amusement,

(Who'd ever be amused by such tales?) 

But I know.

I know.

I know to trust myself

Over others'

Lips.

And as for

venomous lies,

I wouldn't put it past them. 

Be kind, the world says,

Be kind.

BUt what does that mean?

Do you do what you feel is right ---

Should I run away

Disappear from those who know me

As I've always known I should do?

Or perhaps become a reed in the wind

Bending to the whims of this cruel world.

Perhaps demurity is the kindness they want ---

A doormat to trample upon, if I may. 

The sky was a dusty graphite yesterday.

Then lint-purple.

Now it's wisp-marbled periwinkle.

I go home in a few days

And I wonder

If it'll be golden that day,

Or at least snowing,

A kaleidascope of mosaic tiles

Plastered into the wind

Spelling happiness and wonder 

Against my fresh wings,

A master tapestry woven into the sky

Itself, shining glory

Mezmerising, swallowing me up

Until I don't want to hide anymore,

Feel no need to run away

And can finally live

Instead of survive. 

Your words tickling my insides

Make me squirm with excitement;

Eyes alit in luminescent passion.

I breathe in icy shards of whispers

Through the shivering night

Just for a chance to hear your name.

Your gaze falls heavy, secure upon me 

And when I turn around and

Pretend to notice your gaze

My smile pleads to crack the mask I wear

Of balmy cool calmness;

To shatter into the thousands of thoughts

That swirl, slithering in serpentine fashion

Through my head, ready to burst forth

And swallow the Earth like it's high-tide.

I cough up my broken bits,

Remind myself of the wilted white tulip I am,

A Judas to your heavenly presence. 

I can't get any closer, I think

As I wave, rocking on my feet like the Ocean. 

But like a vortex you draw me in;

My apologies deflected, flaws accepted (or perhaps overlooked?) 

You inch closer, dancing around me

Until you've taken my hand

And are whisking me away

Up to the sea of stars, perhaps, for now. 

Maybe it'll be the cloudtops tomorrow,

Then the deep aquatic domain,

And then somewhere else, always far off

And nearly as beautiful as you.

Do you know how much it hurts

When we must part ways again? 

Words are golden 

So I save them,

Bathe them in breath,

Imbue them with heart —

But then I am too afraid 

To dish out bits of my heart to the world

To see and pick apart.

So I hide my words,

Let them sit slack on my tongue

Swallow them down smoothly

Like I have nothing to say at all.

I’d rather look dumb than pretentious

Sometimes

And so I listen, absorb, bloat my belly 

With others’ winding words

Waiting for the day I will be brave enough to

Regurgitate them in a way that 

Sounds beautiful.

I’ve always liked consuming knowledge, words;

Collecting treasures and holding them inside,

And feared letting the shapes I mould them into,

Intricately carved and crafted, spill out;

Escape me.

After all, words are golden

And I am not going to be the one

To inflate the economy until it bursts

By introducing so much gold

That everyone drowns.

Amaryllis

The way the water bubbles

Smooth and glossy

Beneath your tongue

Liquid ruby

And pearl

Swirled into a marbled display,

Diluting each other

In a creamy crescendo of carved wax.

The cold, clean scent

Wafts up,

A tinge of sweet lilting on the edge,

Pinching your senses into a fine pastel point

As saliva pools

Softly,

Pupils large and soft and round

Like a perfect drip of ink,

Sitting on liquid glass. 

I feel crunchy,

The way balled up paper crackles,

Like every breath

Holds a million pop-its,

All bursting in tandem

While I'm also inhaling, sleek

As whale's oil off their backs

When they dive —

Exactly like that, in fact,

Not real — 

'Cause it's just the way 

Water slides off my skin.

The exact opposite

Of what it looks like, really;

The way it seeps into every pore

Like I'm made of  layers of mesh

With a wool core

Tricks you

When I shatter the surface

Makes it look like

I'm producing anything

When I'm just spitting back

What I've taken,

Absorbed from a world so much greater

And 

Filled with people so much more.