Oct 09
adowning's picture

Ice Fishing


Ice Fishing

By Ayden Clark



With a jacket like a heater

And a helmet on my head

I turn

through the

Woods

crunch crunch crunch

As the wheels break sticks

and I cautiously drive out

onto the lake

Swish Sposh

says slush on the water

Then I park

put my green and black

rod in the holder

And wait

And wait

And wait

Until the drag starts to

Ring Ring Ring

Like a bell

from the fish

pulling

The line

I reel

And reel

And reel

And the dark brown with gold

fish

Flops out of the hole

lands

on

the ice

Splash splash

Flop Flop

Success!

Dinner…

<")))><

 
Jan 01

Soap

Write a poem they said, write a poem about the way you wake up, the way the sun is yours at midnight. Write about the small sliver of a soap moon in the corner of the bathtub. The early morning breeze, the open window, his honey lips, the haying field beyond the brook we’re used to calling ours. This is it, the moment we realize we no longer belong only to ourselves. Now, we’re belonging to the steamy stovetop, the old clock, dirty feet, flat tires, homemade ice cream, leaky rain boots, kitchen twine, crumpled letters, beeswax, darned toes, heart patches, hand-drawn maps, warm chocolate, wind-blown linens, winter mud, the city I forget, the hands I never hold, a silent car on a frozen dirt road, finger kissing, apple shining, rock throwing, universe finding, memory collecting, cutting shavings of stolen hair onto the tile floor. The moon is not theirs and neither are we.
Dec 31
Insomniac Dreams's picture

Chronological Identity

Who am I?
I am not the person I was five years ago.
Five months ago.
Five weeks ago.
Five days ago.
Five hours ago.
Five minutes ago. 
Five seconds ago.
I am perpetually altered by time,
If time even exists.
Can I say that time is a human construct
And change is at the core of this, rather than time?
But what is left when time slips away no more?
Do I remain? Who am I? 
I am only composed of atoms.
Of protons.
Of quarks.
Of strings.
Does my identity exist somewhere out of matter?
Or am I bound to exist in the physical world?
What value do I hold in the grand scheme of time?
I can say nothing with the air of certainty.
But I can utter that, and be certain?
And what of this paradox?
Is that too, infinite?
"Perhaps".
Philosophy's great word of speculation.
It looms over conscious thought
But it also hides behind a mask
Dec 24

Millie

Dec 22
poem 6 comments challenge: Vanilla

Vanilla


Vanilla, that’s what you smell like.
Maybe not anymore, but back when I knew you ...
you smelled of vanilla, of singing in the rain,
of running through a forest, and laughing through the pain,
of singing in the morning, and early evening tea,
of seashells on the shoreline, and seagulls soaring free.
So to me you smell of vanilla, of voices heard at dusk,
your eyes the blue of morning, your skin like an ivory tusk.
But maybe it’s just me, remembering the days,
old memories of you and me, fading through the haze.
Maybe you forgot me, but maybe you remember
our fleeting, happy friendship, that ended last
December.
 
Dec 21

Moon Love

The moon drifts above the sea
Its light melts into the water and beyond,
The clouds roll like dark blue waves
Across the night sky.
A blur crosses the water
The black bird carries out the night,
It’s wings flap to the second hand
Ticking the time away,
A countdown until the bright sun returns.
My gaze is cast over the black water
While alone I stand,
The gentle wind playing with my hair.
As my heart aches
For the love that keeps on fading from the world.
The hour glass spills further
As the moon moves along,
A traveler of the sky.
 
Dec 18
JEFF's picture

unique


Each snowflake is unique.
Yet when one falls,
for the first and final time,
no one mourns it.
Why is this?
Each human is unique,
But the same
Rules do not apply.
 
Dec 15

La Luna

she used to be amorphous,
she used to pour herself like wine 
into a glass and become a new shape. 
she used to cascade down rocks and leave 
bits of her soul in between crevices and cracks. 
she used to be inexorable, ineffable. 
but now i see her and i am overcome 
with the feeling of loss. 
like she’s gone somewhere without telling me. 
and i shake in my bed, under ten comforters but still somehow cold, just wishing i could grasp her warmth in my own hands and whisper to her as she sleeps
’please don’t ever grow up without me’
Dec 12
poem 1 comment challenge: Location

Stage Fright

I found it!
That's my line.
That's all it takes.
I just have to say that and hand the cup to Tommy.
I have done it a thousand times before.
But this is different! This is in front of people. They are judging us!
Shut up brain
Not helping.
One line then the next.
Closer and closer to my scene.
Then
Where is the cup?
My cue.
I am about to go up onto the stage and stutter out my line,
When
A flash of light illuminates the theater for a few seconds
Then all is quiet 
The calm before the storm.
My teacher steps on stage and tells everyone the lights went out because of the storm.
I smile at my good fortune
The audience groans and heads home.

In the car ride back,
My mom tells me how unfortunate it is about my line.
I nod along
But in my head
I'm thinking
Nailed it!
 
Dec 10
Anne with an &#039;e&#039;'s picture

I Have Proven

I finally taste a lick of success,
a pinch of pride, 
but you are just one step ahead,
waiting to make my tongue taste
bitter and fuzzy.

I have my arms outstretched,
as happiness and joy blow through 
my hair like a wind gust on the highest
mountaintop,
but you are there to turn my gust of joy
into a tempest of pain. 

I finally feel like one whole piece again,
like one united front standing against
a whirlwind of waves,
but you are there to 
drown me in salty water. 

Now I must rebuild,
and I think you should watch me.

Watch me make a better,
stronger dam.
Watch me summit
new mountaintops,
and feel stronger
gusts of joy, of pride.
The truth is,
I do not fear you.
I welcome you.
Your judgments
and criticism,
your disrespect,
well they just
give me one more chance
to show the world why 
Dec 10
ZAP's picture

an eerie, haunting melody in the night

An eerie, haunting melody in the night
Dec 08

Clear Sky Night

It's rare to have clear skys in winter; white sheets of cloud blanket the sky almost every day.
At night, the atmosphere looks like those in stop-motion Christmas specials.
The moonlight dances over the snow making a silk painting, but cameras seem to ignore the moonlight's presence and the images appear to be taken through a dark woolen blanket.
When fog rolls around the moon, every dormant tree appears gnarly and disfigured, outlined in the hazy light.
At dawn, the snow reflects a pale violet light, a pleasant sight for a kid standing at their bus stop, blowing out frosty breaths of air, waiting for the bus to appear.
Dec 08
hannah.banana23's picture

the sound in the night

I shiver as I walk over to the DiMarco's house. They've asked me to babysit their two kids, Roman and Evelyn, while they go out to dinner and a movie. I've babysat the kids before, so I'm not nervous. Evelyn's eight and Roman's six. They are super cute and fun to play with. When I arrive at their house, I knock on the door. Evelyn opens the door and runs into my arms when she sees me. "Hi Ella!" "Hi Ev," I say, laughing as she squeezes me tight. As I unwrap my scarf and take off my coat, Mrs. DiMarco sees me. "Oh, hi Ella. We're so glad you could come." "Me too," I say. "I love babysitting Ev and Roman." "They love you too! As usual, the emergency numbers are on the fridge, I warmed up some lasanga for dinner, and they should be in bed by 8:30," says Mrs. DiMarco. "Oh, and please call me Kylie." "Ok, thank you Kylie. They'll be in good hands, I promise," I tell her. We wave goodbye as they hop in their car and drive away.
Dec 07
AboutToSnap's picture

Sunlight

Dec 07
poem 2 comments challenge: Power
Mackenzie 101's picture

Power of Kindness

Power is an interesting word,
It has lots of meaning to it.
For example, someone has the power to become president,
But a car has the power to drive thousands of miles.
Just like an athlete has the power to achieve greatness,
And people have the power to do good in this world.
We either use or abuse power.
If superpowers were granted to 7.6 billion people,
People would either take advantage of their powers,
Or be creative with them.
But the best use of power comes from within.
It would be in the world’s best interest to choose a meaningful power.
Sure, people could choose to fly, be invisible, or even read people's mind,
But others may choose to be able to walk, talk, hear, or even smell.
I would choose the power of kindness.
You never know when someone's having a bad day,
Or their life is a complete mess at the moment.
If we’re being honest with ourselves,
All we ever try to be is perfect,
Dec 05
Dubz's picture

a comical injerie

I was six at the time,
 
scooter-ing in Montreal
faster and faster
toward the puddle
looming
slicing through the water
untill, with a mighty spash
I bit the asphalt,
hard,
pain,
searing pain,
laughter?
some where in the chaos,
laughter.
clear
ringing out for the world to hear
joy is everywere.

 
Dec 04

The Warmest, Loveliest, Thing

My throat closed
when you wept
against my cheek.
I heard your heart
thump inside you,
slowing and speeding.
Tha-thwump, tha-thwump.
It was so subtle,
but it was there
against my ear.
My eyes warmed,
waterlines stinging,
as I listened.
You let it out then,
what you felt.
I felt it with you.

You just wanted
to be heard
by someone.
You sounded like me.
I was so lonely,
but I wasn't alone.
You taught me that.
Pain is a given
and when birthed,
you touched my hair
and caressed my back
and whispered.
You reached me
through my nightmares
and guided me,
and in my dream
of certain death,
you held my hand
and whispered to me.

It was the warmest thing
I had ever felt
and the loveliest words
I had ever heard.
I can't imagine
this cold winter
Dec 03
STEINERM's picture

It's About Time

What is time? Most people will think of a clock when they hear time. Others might think of space. When I hear time I think of how old I am. Time is everywhere, time is in everything. Time is in a wall and how many days that wall has been, time is in your food and how long the food was cooked or made, time is even in you and how old you are. There's a saying that time waits for no man; I think that time is a friend. You grow up with time, time is with you from the beginning with the end. Sometimes time can be a pain that some people can get stressed by- like not having enough time to finish your homework, or not having enough time to get to work. But sometimes people need time-like time away from people, or time to go home and see your family.
Dec 03
poem 6 comments challenge: General
mccaffre1's picture

When the sky falls

When the sky falls

I'll catch it on my shoulders

When the sky falls

It won't weigh me down

When the sky falls

I will raise up my chin and await the clouds to float to the ground

But in reality

I’m not strong enough to hold up the sky up when it falls

In reality

It will crush me till I remain consistent to a pancake

And in reality

The sky probably won’t even fall

But I still like to think that it will be me who saves it if it does

 
Dec 02
ailuro's picture

Make-Up

I smile, my cracked lips stretching wide at my reflection in the mirror. A scarlet sheen glimmers faintly across the fissured, dry surface of my lips. Behind them, my teeth seem to hover uncertainly in the dark crevice of my mouth. The girl in the mirror seems to echo my movements and her large, blue eyes catch mine. A shimmery peacock-blue shadow dusts my eyelids and my lashes flutter about in the air like spider legs. I had thought it would make my eyes look enchanting and mysterious, but now it just feels stupid. My mouth contorts into a frown and the girl’s face grimaces right back at me. Stupid, stupid, little girl. An inexplicable grief settles in my stomach and I reach for the makeup remover wipes on the counter. Tugging one out the plastic container, a medicinal, artificial smell clogs up the bathroom. The wet napkin seems to bleed into my skin as I scrub it across my face.