Literary Collection

A young traveler settled in the woods His journey not done, yet hardly begun. He stopped to rest in a shady acre A circle of sunlight cascading down. He looked around the vast expanse of green When his sight affixed upon a flower, A purple rose sitting just above a Log covered in toadstools. He moved closer To the weed, having never in his life Seen anything so beautiful as it. His hand caressed the delicate petals, His nose sniffed the tantalizing fragrance. “I shall pluck it and take it home... Sign in to see full entry.

Krystaline the nymph bathed in her secret spring, A secret spot she picked out amidst the trees She sang as she washed, a voice so pure and dear, Not worrying much to be seen by mortal eyes, Content in her haven amongst the hanging weeds This lovely maiden of the forest. Along came a traveler through the forest, By the name of Ian, and stopped not far from the spring. When what did he see amongst the weeds, But a purple rose nestled between two trees. It’s sheer beauty brought a tear to his eyes... Sign in to see full entry.

He sat in a dark void of grey nothingness, as a bird slapped the air with its wings above him. The bird was black, as black as onyx The bird swooped and in one quick motion Swiped its claws along the boy’s shoulder, As if striking a match to light the darkness. As a thousand little red rivers ran down from the crevices in his skin, he watched the bird pry open its beak, And he heard it caw, teasingly You’re nothing. It placed its wings over the boy’s eyes to blind him. What’s the matter? Can’t... Sign in to see full entry.

Waking up from a dream, surfacing on A bottomless lake of discovery. A lure bobbing in the lake known as fantasy, Tempting me with danger, lust, euphoria, Knowing I crave these things, knowing that I will bite and be pulled out into the cold, stagnant air of reality, where my asthma burns my lungs from the inside. Now I turn from fish to fisherman, Throwing out my lure, hoping that meaning and understanding will close it’s sharp jaws and allow me to pull them up. But my baited hook remains... Sign in to see full entry.

It’s pretty cold outside, Better wear a coat. Wind blows through the street, Too dark for the eye to see alone, So I seek the guidance of burning hot streetlights. An automobile zooms by, Blowing a newspaper by my shoulder. Is there any important news tonight? Nothing. Bad news is the agenda. I, wandering as a feline, Beginning to realize that there is nobody else. I have a home- somewhere. Yet, tonight, I am as an eremite, Begging for aegis, willing to expiate Any mistakes I have made, Walking... Sign in to see full entry.

The train went off the track in a violent whirlwind tumble. And now I wake up from a daze in a forest of mangled steel and flame. Everyone else stays on the ground, dead and bloody. There's a deep gash above my right eye, bloody and dark, but I'll just stitch it up on my own and limp away on a ruptured heel. That's how I've always done it, no help from anyone. Where the hell am I? All I know is, I have to make it To where I was going. Walk off into the horizon, as the sun sets Into the sea of... Sign in to see full entry.

Talking to one of my fellow classmates, she says She saw one of her favorite poets the other day at the museum. I reply, "I envy you. You get to meet your favorite poet in person; All my idols are dead." Names like Herrick, Donne, and Eliot Sieve through people's minds and settle On the floor. Smoldering ash collecting on the floor of society. I alone am left to pick up the pieces. Sign in to see full entry.

On my face Is written the story of my life. On my chin is the mark of my manhood. Thousands of tiny little hairs clumped up In a miniature forest. I’ll wear it forever. Without it, I would not be me. A beacon, a warning post To tell others who I am. Sign in to see full entry.