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The White ThingsNothing is as far away as a minute ago.
No matter how hard you row against the tide
we can never reach it, never return there.

It's hard to sleep in the light of my regrets
that creeps through curtain and barriers
to rot away and bleach all things white.

It's hard to sleep knowing that no distance
is as far away as sixty small seconds ago.
Immalleable, we rot, and things turn white.

HAIKUWRIMOCOMPLETE 2013

February 28th, 2013

Dire desperation
A feeble whimper for help;
roar of these raw times.

February 27th, 2013

Gluttonous ash cloud
sucks the moon's blood
and swallows the night.

February 26th, 2013

Bark! An explosion!
Angry bodies escape the
network of lung cells.

February 25th, 2013

Silently cloning,
multiplying, honing in,
determined to kill.

February 24th, 2013

Tea and sympathy
readily available
for my dear sister.

February 23rd, 2013

I will hold my breath
as the north wind does the same
waiting for your love.

February 22nd, 2013

He hovers behind;
Hamletian apparition.
Always following.

February 21st, 2013

A lo

In absence of a poem.I chewed my pen to the nib
and swallowed the ink thoughtlessly,
but no matter how long I thought,
I couldn't say what you mean to me.

I tried, I tried and I tested,
every word in my diminutive range,
but I screwed up more pieces of paper
and happened upon something strange;

I noticed words, which have served me,
for all of my formative years,
had no power to convey my gratitude
for the times that you dried my tears.

Whenever I doubt myself (often),
You're the one who tells me I'm wrong
You lift up my chin and remind me, wait
for the good things that will come along.

I can't find a way to express how
you are the saving grace in my head.
So

Sometimes, it's the little things.He always told me I was deep.
An unfiltered distillation of a humanitarian ocean.

He accepted me, gills and all -
He knew that I needed my eccentricities to breathe
under the seascrapers of pollution
that hung over my head.
Or he said he did.

At the end of it all,
he tugged the gills open to expose me;
my innards trailed across the coral reef
as I swam trustingly forward, hoping for the best.
I tried to believe.

I believed him, gills and all -
But eventually, he left me, with holes in my sides
Where he had spooned out my intestines
To tether them to a boulder.
I tried to breath

Finding Neverlove - Draft OneHear me read it

I have never loved you.
I did not love you since the day we met,
I did not love you the moment
I looked into your beautiful eyes.

I have never loved your soft voice
As it whispers my name in adoration
And I have never loved the look in your eyes
When you look at me.

I don't love your hair,
Or the way you look in the morning,
Half asleep and vulnerable and shy.
I do not love you.

I did not love you at the first touch,
At the first kiss.
I did not love you the first time,
Or the second time,
Or the last time;
Not even then.

Listen to me carefully -
I have never loved you.
I will never love you.
I will not love you until my

BathAn untidy circle of golden peaks
with shimmering gems tumbling down
that thrum through with shafts of sun.
How welcomed I feel when I see
the emerald shrug draped about
your fine matriarchal shoulders
reaching out to draw me close.
The sapphiric glint in your eye,
you invite me in and give me shelter.
All through your house you're present
every corner shines antique brass
and the small blemishes I see
only endear you to me further.
Settled on your asparagus bedding,
with the sweep of ruralesque tones
down the front of your stately dress,
Austen's own, I desire you.
I want to steal you.
Pluck you from your landlocked throne
and throw you hard

Star-writHear me read it!

It is nebulonic fate that we should dance
together in this burning bald ballroom
as the flames lick up the sepiatic walls
and drip curled paper down upon us.

It is our right to spin each other here
in the torrentous reign of flames and ash
as the chandelier, already hanging,
spits and sparks at us, trying to take us too;

and as everything we ever loved or cherished
in porcelain veneer or hand-crafted sycamore
crumbles to a close, still the thought remains-
that it is our star-writ fate to dance on.

In The StarsIn the stab of the night,
when there is no moon
or modern light to guide you -
there will be stars.

They will burn themselves out
with the vehemence with which
they shine for you.
They will desperately radiate
their message to you
across lightyears of dead air,
they are full with it.

They are children
holding their breath
until you beg them to stop.

They are waiting for you
to be ready to hear them.

In the ache of the night,
when there are no whispers
or echoes to guide you -
there will be stars;

and those stars will be couriers
baring these words to you
emblazoned with their royal seal.
They will be eternally pressed

MutantHear me read it

I am a mutant.
   | My skin does not sallow in the sun
   and I do not blush jaundice through my cheeks.
   | I do not have extra fingers, or toes -
   although my spine;
      it boasts an ironic vertebrae,
      it is a long tally of the hearts I have broken
      and when I straighten my spine the bones Pop out of place.

United, We WriteHear me read it

0hgravity, if by some divine fortune you should decide that today is the day you will fail me, then let me soar through the ChemicalSkyline. Grant me a-lovely-anxiety that raises a storm InTheStarryNightSky for me to riseandbe above all else. Let me soar.

How I long to be the frail rider-on-the-storm and not a victim of the RoamingShadow, Rogue-Of-The-Night, that BlackVelvetNightmare of my nights and days. I long for awaytobefree, won't you grant it to me?

I desire to be great, to feel greatness, to be more than one of many Sad-Writers spinning Sacred-Literature into SanguineEpitaph after saturninesweetness. scarletwave of

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4. One vertebral column with or without spinal cord to suit buyer. Can be gift wrapped to taste with a personalised card. Leave y

Mother EarthMy body is the earth;
See how under this bruise
A seed of malcontent sleeps.
See what grows out of each pore
As the pain pours over again.
There is rust in my fingerbeds
That poisons the roots
Of all good that hopes to grow here.
I am the convulsing, revolution
of the convoluted Earth...
I am the tectonic blades that clash
and shout when I curl up and hide.
You will feel me when I tremble,
and fear me when I explode
for under the magmanimous skin
There burns a core of hate
That can't be marred by human hand.

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.

At Least Your Body Doesn't LieClandestine kisses, of peaches and pearls
with half written romance by half witted girls.
Your tongue tells a tale as strong as the liquor
each passing heartbeat taints my heart bitter.

Your inaccurate adaption of saccharine truth,
whispered affections with the afflictions of youth.
You lie with your eyes and deceive with your hips;
I die in your arms and taste death on your lips.

Liar boy, lover boy, whom I love the most,
lift up your glass for a seraphim toast.
You lie when you speak but can't lie what you feel,
I know what you moan to my teeth is all real.

ShockwaveFoetal
Trying to fold the pain up
To trap it between the paper cut limbs.
Curled up
Protective
But the shockwaves come
Pulsing from inside
Destroying cells
Radiocactive
Curled up
To trap it between the paper cut limbs.
Trying to fold the pain up.
Foetal.

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More from `KathrynODriscoll

Responsif - Draft One /Responsif

My scars are not tallys of the past
but foretellings of the future
death has marked me as his own
these are my brandings

I am set aside for misery.

Origami - Draft One /Origami

I was origami, that I cant defend
If you fold it up, then you can just pretend
And in the middle of the creases
I had no point of view
I could not see all I had to unfold to

Owen - Draft One /Owen

Owen Mclowen has a happy face,
But no one sees him cry,
So Owen Mclowen hung himself,
And no one saw him die.

OIC - Draft One /OIC

Oh.
I see.

and the pieces emerge from the gloom.

There was a reason after all.

there's a reason why
the doctors won't help me
or let me have the help from those doctors
who actually could.
(who actually would bother)

there's a reason why
he left me
for being too crazy
and unpredictable.

or maybe too predictable.
He predicted the future being the same as the present.
You were wrong.

Oh.
I see.
There is a reason after all.
A reason to rhyme.
A reason to bleed on the carpet again.

It was all a journey.
One designed to blister feet
and break hearts.

Well.
I see.
It was a pretty landscape to look at.
A hell

PDA - Draft One /PDA

The inexplicable sunrise,
That casts a glorious stream of gold,
Across every trail of thought,
Interweaving glittering memories,
With glistening fantasies.

An all consuming completeness,
And a warmth that floods my veins,
With the occasional flash of fire.
The soft murmurs of a morning consent,
Permission to love, to fall in love.

And those irreplaceable kisses.
Each one spent carefully,
Priceless and limitless, God willing,
As love speaks for love by itself,
And words slither hopelessly to the floor.

The Rolling Stones - Draft One /The Rolling Stones

He named his heart Jack,
and pushed it down hill with his brain
Set ablaze with self doubt and strain
As Jills words stalked angrily after.

No love in the execution
the action nor the effect,
His heart tumbled and tumbled again
No foothold could poor Jack obtain

It was falling, poor Jack, he kept falling,
The unrequited love in dead veins,
and Jill speaking nought but profane,
Her own stone heart pumping distain

While the rolling stone gathers no moss
Jack's rolling heart brought him just pain.

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Submitted: February 25
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by `KathrynODriscoll, Feb 25, 2013, 2:42:08 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Concrete Poetry

I speared you with a   black-ink pen.
I tried to balance    the weight
of our weare-worn shoulders.
Tried to counter   it with beauty
and hopefulness , with my hopes,
persistence &   with my dark love.
They came to see it in hundreds,
Droves, of   similarly seeking
hope and a reason to continue.
Reasons to love, even when it
hurts. Reasons to try when the
vast weight of differences 'tween
us can't be fixed by adding
a single strike of strength
through the middle. Our love
wasn't strong enough for poetry
to save. It crumbled to nothing
but the paper beneath the pen, and
  my half broken voice whispering a
tale of our forgotten, broken, love.

Parchmentby `KathrynODriscoll

Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Concrete Poetry

©2013 `KathrynODriscoll

Despite hundreds of you falling in love with 'You will never die', the love died nonetheless.

New word time!

weare-worn: worn down and weary.

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Athazagoraphobias Mar 10, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

The formatting is particularly stunning... in a 'the first cut is the deepest' kind of way.

Reply

`KathrynODriscoll Mar 22, 2013 Student Writer

blushes, thank you so much. I did think of that song when it was done too. How odd.

Reply

~KuraiTenshiV Mar 2, 2013 Hobbyist

It's great, and sad. It makes me miss people

Reply

`KathrynODriscoll Mar 5, 2013 Student Writer

me too

Reply

~KuraiTenshiV Mar 10, 2013 Hobbyist

yay hugs

Reply

Mood: Love

~WinterLeave Feb 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

very interesting and pretty, but don't regret love, dear <3 it's not the love that hurts or dies, it are the other things!

Reply

`KathrynODriscoll Feb 28, 2013 Student Writer

I dont :]

I am very very lucky, having lost my sister so young, in that no matter how much a break up, or a loss, hurts I don't regret love in any form.

Reply

~WinterLeave Mar 1, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I'm so happy to hear that! You're a very kind and strong person

<3

Reply

`KathrynODriscoll Mar 5, 2013 Student Writer

Aw!

! Thank you Winter :>

Reply

Mood: Love

~WinterLeave Mar 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

you're welcome!

Reply