wb :

// A Writer's Blog special

Welcome! Welcome! to the hall of dreams
Behold, where nothing is as it seems!
Here, where time is a capricious thing,
And nothing's impossible to every extreme
Have a go! have fun! by all means, have a fling!
Watch, watch, and wow at the exhibits-
They're sure to keep you in the highest spirits!

Now, ladies and gentlemen, as we advance
Throw to your sinister a curious glance!
Here, a fine specimen- caught at his desk
Reading obsessedly, as though in a trance-
Look at him go! isn't it grotesque
To spend one's life in a flight of fantasy!
I think we'll all agree, 'tis a travesty!

We feed him on stories of unrequited love,
And marvel as he cries to a "Dear God Above"
At times, he's melancholic, at others ablaze,
But never too far from a push to a shove!
Watch! as his spirit nothing can faze!
He'll gnarl and he'll gnash at the slightest provocation
Then fall at a touch into deepest depression-

Welcome! Welcome! to the hall of dreams
Behold, where nothing is as it seems!
Here, where time is a capricious thing
And nothing's impossible to every extreme
Have a go! have fun! by all means, have a fling!
Marvel at the monkeys- but for all of their antics
Please, ladies and germs: don't feed the romantics.

Labels: poetry

The waters here are clearer than the skies are at home. Walking down an unfamiliar beach, I am faced with the sudden realization that I am alone. Behind me, the crashing surf drags my footprints from the sand and drowns them in the ocean. The breeze blows across the silent sea and echoes in the farthest reaches of the sky beyond. Love seems too big for this little planet; there is no room for it between the sand and the sea. I am alone, and there is no one else on these lonely shores. I have left them all behind.

Labels: drabble, prose

I wrote this solely for the purpose of infuriating Ryan David.
Inspired muchly by Zhuoyi's 'How to write a poem'. Despite tongue firmly embedded inside cheek, please comment.

Not a Haiku 01

Nothing means
anything


-adam

Labels: poetry

It's fashionable to be
    An insomniac.
To have glowering eyes
That speak not
With dancing joy
Or burning hate
But with resentment
Of the rested.

It's fashionable to be
    An insomniac.
To not answer,
To maintain
A cryptic
    enigmatic
        exquisite
            silence.
A silence cries out for an answer.
A silence stings the ears.

It's fashionable to be
    An insomniac.
To be a mind
Trapped in
The body of
A slug.
Wading in
Thick sludge.

It's fashionable to be
    An insomniac
'Cos no one
Can look into
An insomniac's eyes
To see an
Insomniac's soul.

-- 10th July --

Labels: poetry

I remember a time, not long ago
when water wasn't yet H2O
the air we breathed was clean and bright
and no-one worried about carbon monoxide
oh, it wasn't all too long ago
when grass needn't photosynthesize to grow
"hard" was anything that stubbed your toe
and "accurate" was a master's arrow
but then, things turned to the photon-less side
and once-sweet sugar was acidified
NaCl was the stuff that I cried
for forever was my old playground destroyed.

Labels: poetry

Were i but a butterfly,
Fluttering in the breeze,
I'd be an angsty butterfly,
emo, if you'd please.

Were i but a chunk of cheese,
all marbled, green and white,
I'd be a crumbly chunk of cheese,
consumed with wine at night.

Were i but a little kite,
Flying, high and sure,
I'd be a diamond-coloured kite,
They ARE forever, my dear.

Labels: poetry

I stand in the sea.
Wave after wave of irredeemable sadness breaks over me,
washing me clean,
Washing my clean, washed corpse to the sand.

I lie on the sand,
and gust after gust of unremiting sand scours my flesh,
leaving my bones clean;
leaving nothing, but clean, white bones.

There i am, There's me,
nothing more than a skeleton of clean, white bones in the sun.

If a little girl were to pick through my bones, i would tell her,
Watch where you step. That's my ribcage.
That's my heart.

Labels: poetry