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Something BorrowedHear me read it

In the back of my mind I am sure I was remembering the discussion we had had a few days previous, wondering whether or not I should see her that morning. Somewhere in my mind I am sure there was a logical and rational thought but if there was, I didn't hear it.

I stepped into the room and was greeted by a rush of perfume, the heart wrenching scent of roses that seemed to cover every surface of the broad mahoghany table in front of me. I didn't see them, she turned as I came in and her eyes were alight with fire and for one beautiful moment everything was a fairytale, I gazed without censorship at my beautiful princess. We ha

with a whisperthis is how we rule the world,
the underclassed
the uncapitalist
(uncapitalised)
the forgotten, lobotom-ised,
relics
of a long lost dystopast.

not with a SHOUT,
we do not argue.
we do not even unsheath
our mightier-than-the's.
we whisper in your children's ears
the memories of what should have been.
the life we all crave.

the death we all crave.
WE do not discriminate
or obstigate
our opinions onto others
pressing the side of the blade
down onto the fles

ArtI tapped yellow and rouge onto his high cheekbones.
I wanted to dull their sharpness. Dull his shine.
I swiped royal and tiffany across his forehead,
An impermanent reminder of how precious he was to me.

A fuschia flush down the bridge of his nose
dipped into the corner of his eye - he went cross eyed
and I laughed, dropping pink glitter on his collarbone,
he became serious as I pondered. He wanted to be Art.

The sun rose on his temple, I wanted to give him life.
I wanted every day to be a riotous sensation for him.
I left his eyes as they were so he could look at me,
I guess that, deep inside, I wanted to be Art too.

Rock BottomThey say a rolling stone gathers no moss,
so when I shudder to a halt
The rocks in my feet continue to grind.
I feel the sand in my lungs
and the regretful mist silting in my heart
as the waves come back in
reaching eagerly for my legs, spooling, churning
over me. Rooted in my misery.
I know the rocks in my feet will help me drown.

OIt permeates everything
It is the cells. It is the cell
in which I am rotting.

The sheen over my eye,
the flesh I rip from the side of my nail,
the teeth I grind it with.

The tears, blood and sweat.
It is below carbon and hydrogen,
embedded in the air I breathe.

It is sleeping under my fingernails,
It is the undeniable, genetic, atomic truth.
Oh, my oxygen permeates everything.

It is the cell.

My FavouriteShe is my favourite.
No siren song marks me deeper.
There is nowt but dust between us.

She is the herald of my thoughts,
The anthem of my days
She knows all my knowings well.

She is tense and bitter
when I must wear my Brave Face.
She weeps when I may not.

She pours her secrets, vermillion,
From ink to blotted page
So I may toss them aside, and breathe.

She is my favourite,
She who unmarvels me marvellously.
She who whispers in my tongue.

BlackI chew on the blubbery meat of my tongue,
But it revulses
So whenever I swallow I gag.

I try not to inhale the acrid hiss of discontent
That seeps out of the corners of my mouth
And runs a river down my chin;
It reminds me of peaches. I cry.

I have digested the venom
The black rotten root of my own plague;
Ingested it. Injected it. How quick I am to accept death to me.

As organs revolve, revolt, regurgitate
I caged butterflies in my abdomen
As if lushness couldn't catch them there.
I knew better.

I ple'd to the sewn-in stars and their makeshift tenants,
For salvation and for suicide.
They offered neither.

So I sit and stew in these bodil

Get upHear me read it

She sat on the edge of her bed staring at the floor. Within her scope of vision there were many things she could look at. Many things to think about and process. There was a slate blouse that had wilted at the bottom of her bed, or her pale foot placed beside it. The foot looked unnatural there, with no pressure to grip it to the ground it looked unbelonging, like a cast aside prop. Yet she did not look, or think, or notice.

She just stared, blindly, for an hour, her thoughts were obnoxious and churned the paltry paste of self-disgust in her heart muscle, but they were relatively quiet as she repeated over and over in the fo

The Waiting GameHear me read it

I gripped the ladder fiercely until my knuckles whitened and my bones complained at the strain. I remained this way, like a rigor mortised superhero until my mind associated the tight throttling hold on the wood with the concept of choking someone; at which point I let go, momentarily, alarmed by the violence of my own thoughts.

The slight shudder rippled up through the fluidous wood and you complained loudly of my carelessness. We laughed and you dripped paint down trying to cut open my scalp with splashes of mint. Mrs Coraline banged her walking stick against her kitchen window with a resolute scowl and we tried to straigh

The EditorMakeshift by the lake,
I watched you finish my sentence
- Hastily retracting the bitterness
and editing out
my overstated meaning.

A fly serenaded you,
As you derooted the root,
- Deflowered the bud
and edited out
every semblance of a meaning.

I allowed it, in the summer haze.
For you to slather me
- In someone elses
typewriter ribbons
soaked in someone elses feeling.

But when you slept at last
I arose, painted bleach by your tongue
- Shook off your petty rules
and crossing outs
and ran away, free - and feeling.

a Novella of LoveShe wrote a novel on the back of my left hand,
It washed away when she left me.

Holding a Hostage - Draft One /I daren't close my eyes
The moment I do
You may dissapear.

I clutch at your body
Pressed between you
and the slate flooring we chose together
   You and I.

I stroke your hair and murmur
My tearful confessions
- You've heard them a thousand times before.
Not today.

There are sirens, love
and they come for me
   They come for us.

They seek to part us, my darling
and I cannot let them.

No battering ram or tear gas
Could bruise me more
       than seperation.
Nor make me cry more
       than departure.

I kiss your face
and try not to remember
How you looked when I fell in love with you.
You're not so different angel,
Not

TattooHear me read it

I splashed black ink onto your spine;
unintentional as I frenzied and fawned
to try and catch the elusive thought.

You patiently waited for me to return
out of breath and triumphant with my trophy.
We hung it on wood next to the elk.

In my haste to write of the love of you,
I'd written in you. I'd marked you as mine,
as my words intoxicated your weak heart.

The ink had permeated your flesh, your blood,
until it silted, deep inside you,
a permanent, unedited, tattoo of our love.

Haiku: GoneThe moonbreath exhales,
Skypaint blurs the horizon,
Stars go out. You're gone.

Not yet"father, are we belonging yet?"

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More from `KathrynODriscoll

Swallowing The Darkness - Draft One /Shes swallowing the darkness,
Poisoned with every bite,
Shes wallowed in the darkness,
And the suffering, and fright.

Stalking - Draft One /Concealed in the follow
unseen in the hollow
he traces a map through the town
a map of where she has been

revealed himself true
in a twilight blue
she traces a map over his skin
a map of where she has been.

Skin - Draft One /Skin

My skin is angry
rubbed red red raw
in that tiny landing strip
of forgiveness

and my skin is burning
just swallowed down words
and broken rememberances
of memorials and desire

sickness of twisting things
twisting 'til they break
and are no longer usable
for anything but grief

I'm falling through it again
every moment in quick step
and as my heart stops and starts
and the fingers forget

I don't want to forget you
I'd rather cut right down to the bones
of the problem
and hide away
in tears
and solitude
that I deserve
solitude of utter madness
and fucking nothingness
of what I deserve
and I feel sick
right down t

Silence - Draft One /Silence

No sleep.

She lies in the heat
Gazing at the ceiling
With tear-filled eyes
And tear filled heart
With a swollen tongue
That cannot speak for her
She lays next to him
Alone.

She is broken
And incurably hated
And he is lost
And worried every day
With a swollen heart
That aches for her
He lays next to her
Silently.

They are talking
And not saying much at all
Gazing hesitantly left
She is uncontrolable
And he is inconsolable
And they seek comfort
But barriers leave them
Alone.

She, Song Version - Draft One / She

She is violin.
A graceful flourish of her fingers,
One hypnotising movement,
And I sing for her.
The mournful, aching sound,
Of hearts in love.

She is flute,
A cool breeze across my neck,
One mesmerising whisper,
And I long for her.
The whimpering, broken sound,
Of men in love.

Touch my soul with symphony
And together we will sing
With love notes and with lyrics
We'll survive anything
Kiss me with your chorus
Converse me with your rhymes
Drums take over heart beats
As we whisper stolen lines

She is guitar,
Fumbling with notes and chords,
One revitalising gesture,
And I play for her,
The quickened heartbeat sound,

She /She is violin.
A graceful flourish of fingers,
One hypnotising movement,
And I sing, for her.
The mournful, aching, sound,
Of hearts in love.

She is flute.
A cool breeze across my neck,
One mesmerising whisper,
And I long for her.
The whimpering, broken, sound,
Of men in love.

She is guitar.
Fumbling with notes and chords,
One revitalising gesture,
And I play, for her.
The quickened, heartbeat, sound,
Of fools in love.

She is harp,
I caress tense heart strings,
One tantalising murmur,
And I love for her,
The silent, beautiful, sound,
Of falling in love.

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Submitted: January 13
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4 word poem

by `KathrynODriscoll, Jan 13, 2013, 5:12:27 AM
Scraps

Pole |
Dancer. |
| Tuition
| Fees.

38 Comments

4 word poemby `KathrynODriscoll

©2013 `KathrynODriscoll

_{Thought I'd try it. Still think it could benefit from some more words but at least I gave it a go. XD

Wrote this for the #FourLinePoems' Competition, mainly to see if I could grow to like this style but I don't think it suits me. That said, why don't you give it a go and see if it suits you?}

~disrhythmic Jan 16, 2013

I love this.

Reply

`KathrynODriscoll Jan 16, 2013 Student Writer

_{Giggles mischieviously}

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~disrhythmic Jan 16, 2013

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=LadyofGaerdon Jan 14, 2013 Professional Writer

Niiiice.

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`KathrynODriscoll Jan 16, 2013 Student Writer

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`FuzzyHoser Jan 14, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Ahahahaha....how clever.

Reply

`KathrynODriscoll Jan 16, 2013 Student Writer

_{I'm devious. I wonder if |||| counts as a word. lol}

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`FuzzyHoser Jan 16, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Erm....I'll allow it.

Reply

*nightshade-keyblade Jan 13, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Oh, good. I'm not the only one who read that article in the Independent. Man, the government in the UK is b******s. I'm not even British and I'm so disillusioned. I was lucky enough to have gotten into Uni before they hiked up tuition fees, thankfully.

Reply

`KathrynODriscoll Jan 14, 2013 Student Writer

_{< Brit. Going to start uni in September. haha.}

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