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Cinderella
Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.
IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.
Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun     /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone
Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu
i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel
moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.
L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that
Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do
Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they  thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk  in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013
field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.
Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.

Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.

Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,

Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.

Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.
MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee
blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled
van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
crying
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
bullshit.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
in hell.
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
misconception.
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
a crowd
of murmuring lips of
god's will.
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
could hear.
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
with chiv
thieves of nocturne skiesPaper lanterns                                                                                            are midnight requiems
            That tell me                                                                            to look beyond the
                   light and have    &
Browse More Like This

More from `sanguru

Broken pieces of my soul"Broken pieces of my soul"

Pieced words go together
like pieces of my soul.

Anger gone
you have nothing left to say
I really didn't think you
could become this way
Sadness has come here
it's been like hell
I'm sick and tired
if only you could tell.

My legs are hairy
I should have shaved
My skin is dirty
I should have bathed
My thoughts are muddled
I should have stayed
My tears are unstopping
they cannot be slayed.

I cried into your shoulder
filling it with my pathetic tears.

I've been watching you
I see your sadness
your pain that you hold
as if it's been part of you.
I wish you'd let go
come and be free
because you
Hiding pain and me"Hiding pain and me"

I'm hiding behind the laughter
pretending everything's alright
I'm looking for the answers
but I'm loosing everything in sight.

I act like it doesn't hurt
but all I do is hide
behind jokes and smiles
as my insides curn.
I feel like fleeing from the friends
that hurt and the jokes that kill me
as I grin, pretending I'm a strong
but in reality,
I feel I'm already dead.

I'm hiding behind perfection
there are no flaws here
I'm still looking for myself
but I feel I'm no where near.

I'll sit here till I get it right
I can never be wrong again
for the laughter of failure
is always too much to handle.
On the
Beauty burned"Beauty burned"

--------
--------
I lost my innocence
in the tangle of arms and legs

...

we lay on the floor
tired - tangled
words mean nothing
above the heavy breathing
of two souls in heaven.
i'm naked on the floor
never thought i'd feel this good
this dirty - scared
i'm here beside you
but i still feel alone.
we sleep on the floor
resting - but still tangled
as if we were one
conjoined by hands and feet
wishing to die on this floor.

--------
--------

I lost my beauty
in you

...

i'm molding myself
to your will
your every wish and desire
i will meet
i am yours.
burn me with a touch
and shower me with nothingne

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Barefoot beach

:iconsanguru:

Barefoot, these soles beat across the sand
dancing a mystery of footprints
that disappear in the coming tides.
We jump, soaring above--
for a moment, there is a mix of body,
reflection and shadow.
Upon landing, we relish the warm water
that greets our toes
swimming in the laughter that echoes
in the crashing surf.

188

2 1 5
:iconsanguru:

Barefoot beachby `sanguru

DescriptionDetailsShare
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A short one for Google Imagination Contest

Brought to you by the word miracle and [link]
©2011-2013 `sanguru
Category: Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

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Submitted on
August 3, 2011
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:icondoomit:
~doomit Aug 6, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
Aww now I wanna go to the beach! *sounds all kid like*

Nice work Sanguru! It's full of images and the truth of the place. Nicely done.

Such images in something so short! Twinge of envy here.
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