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 &

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Epic... And still they struggled on.

The immortal still was fighting strong
but his doubts grew, this fight too long.
He thought he should have won by now
But the mortal persisted, he knew not how.

... And still they struggled on.

The mortal was tired, his body ached
Fighting with thought, and speed, and all his strength
Against a foe no one could beat
He had to be quick on his feet.

... And still he struggled on.

In the fight, beneath the ponderous moon,
The two were locked for ages
And for the mortal, it must end soon
Or the turning of the pages
Of life's book would leave him behind
Out of sight and out of mind
Having done noth

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Prisoner version 2

by ~Panther-Nora, Jun 27, 2004, 3:34:02 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

I miss the air…
I miss the tempest sandstorm
And the choking desert dust
I miss the thunderclouded sky
Miss the cool night breezes
Flowing cross my face
Beneath the stars

I long for stars,
Sparkling in the dark sky
The radiant moon,
Growing, living, dying
Always changing, always same
I’d die happy
If I could see it all once more

I beg you let me one more time
Swim in a river that runs free

Please let me play in the ocean sand
I beg once more

Let the sun shine on my withered frame
Let my ears hear the sound of a living thing
Let me taste a wild fruit that no farmer grew

Don’t let me die in this darkened cell alone!

But the time is past
For the good things in life
For the riches beyond compare
And I’ve done what I’ve done
And now this is my lot
I have drawn the bitter share

I always knew that I would die
That there was an end to this life
But I hoped against hope that it would end
On the point of an enemy’s knife
And not chained away from the rest of the world
In a cold dark cell… alone

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Prisoner version 2by ~Panther-Nora

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I didnt like the former version of this poem. So I fixed it to my liking.
I suppose I wrote this because I feel a bit trapped myself with work and home situations and such.

anyway, Enjoy and please comment.

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Submitted on: June 27, 2004
File Size: 1.3 KB

Views: 60
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Comments: 17
Downloads: 9

~Kyaku Jul 28, 2004

DAMN!!!
this encapsulates so perfectly...everything...and as my dad would say, so well the ungrateful generations of the west...lol
well, despite that opinion, ur words depict very well the prison of the mundane

hats off to you!

~Panther-Nora Jul 28, 2004

Thank you very much, I'm glad you liked it.

~faeryzeph912 Jul 5, 2004

i also got the feeling that this poem was related to freedom. this is amazing.i get so many images from it. its very very good.

~Panther-Nora Jul 5, 2004

*blushes madly*
Thank you

~faeryzeph912 Jul 5, 2004

no problemo!

~Kriasai Jun 30, 2004

Great imagery, I can really relate to this too. Sometimes I feel so trapped at school. Week after week after week, two more years then what future do I have?

~Panther-Nora Jun 30, 2004

College is the most awesome thing that could possibly happen to anyone... if you get in a good one.

~fat-lionell Jun 27, 2004

It bring backmemories of home. I like it, it's very beautiful.

~Panther-Nora Jun 27, 2004

Beautiful? how so?

and what does it say about our home that it reminds us of it?

~fat-lionell Jun 28, 2004

It just made me remember the stars, and the river. It's beautiful because of the way it makes me feel. I was really happy there you know.

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Prisoner version 2by ~Panther-Nora

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