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Meaning and the Meningococcal by seeyouinjune, literature

Literature

Meaning and the Meningococcal

Meaning and the Meningococcal Upon long walks from the working shop I would observe strangers draped in canopy, in tablecloth, in ridicule, but mostly in love. noticing that everything dances, and everything tastes like plump purple raspberries. that we are brought up on table manners and grade schools and the occasional scrapping of our knees. she was brought up on antibiotics- and jesus. * ripe golden-rich sun scorched skin- I would turn door knobs with paper-cut fingers, loosen my sinews and hang my skin on wire- tilt my head against wool fabric bone- seal my lips with glue and go comatose and blur out my ey

Anagrams in the air by Piscesandthediamonds, literature

Literature

Anagrams in the air

Thieved by mouth-envelope; my phonics caged in alphabet-zoos, my heart-hospital swirling with apiaries, as I wait outside a name. If I could eventually say anything at all, I’d tell you how you loom secret heuristics inside those delta-pyramids that snack on your pupils. I’d tell you I’d bleed out the world’s cathedrals in weight, to say anything that sparked a star in the quiet knock of your night. I’d scratch the larks from their wallpapers, until my nails, none, lift their wings and give them flight. This thirsting pulse knows you inside the highest of blooms and we can never

shiv'ah by WhoKilledKirov, literature

Literature

shiv'ah

. Our feet bled from seashells under the lighthouse stove light beaming raccoon streaks in saltwater sky. We looked all night, where the bottle glass was licked smooth; we pulled seaweed from whalebone ribcages calling it her hair dissected from a comb. The soul is the lamp of god Ve'imru omeyn Mother walked backward into the ocean the morning I married that siren-eyed boy. The blood orange segmented on ashwood tabletop: I'll see a sunset running-juice tucked between your lips, spilling into cupped hands. and he rose before the deer woke and took a shotgun to the edge of the water

I Live In A City of Monsters by scribblesound, literature

Literature

I Live In A City of Monsters

I live in a city of dinosaurs. They stand still. And pretend to be structures of steel and drywall. But I know the truth. They breathe And blink When everybody is focused on traffic And tabloid scandals And the incompetent coffee-boy mixing their frothy rush-hour drinks. I live in a city of crying geese. They moan like sinners. But I know better. They're all just faking it to ward off the gunmen. I envy their longevity: I went hoarse three weeks ago And I'm surprised I'm not dead yet. I live in a city of reanimated fossils, Where I stay skinny so I won't be spotted As human. Sometimes, there's a crash In our sidewalk mobs

Eve by RevolutionnaireRouge, literature

Literature

Eve

They said Eve ate a pomegranate. My fingers bleed from the places the knife slipped, lost its grip along the tough skin of fruit. I have fought against the fleshy armor, plunging deep, penetrating nothing. These seeds are not mine to know. How she must have struggled, ripping and tearing in lustful fury, chunks of crimson pulling up under her nails, digging into the white womb until it split. How the fruit must have spilled, little living catacombs bursting forth, rotten at the center, maggots writhing out from the seams like pale serpents. How everything must have ruptured when Eve dropped the fruit, shaking

Reflection. by chew-on-that, literature

Literature

Reflection.

We fuck next to the haunted lake with mirror-ocean eyes. It mutters as it watches our whispers, hears our stifled cries in the dark. It knows. Morning comes with a weak peering sun, hesitant fingers brushing the edges of the sky. I sit with my legs in the water, watching you pack your bags and drive on home, rattling by in your cherry red car that shatters the blue miasma hanging like a ghost across the lake, a fog that rolls across the reeds. Ripples stream away from my knees. I write letters in the air to my lover back home in Australia, who probably dreams vivid red-pink-love scenes alone in the darkness. I stare at nothing.

Our Midnight Flower by starkreality, literature

Literature

Our Midnight Flower

I rest my eyes upon this flower, With its sharp and stabbing thorns, Entice me at this midnight hour. Vines climb up this endless tower, For my lost lover I do mourn, I rest my eyes upon this flower. Spirits hold me with such power, Stems are broken, leaves are torn, Entice me at this midnight hour. Rain falls down in heavy showers Wash away my seething scorn I rest my eyes upon this flower Reciprocate my hero's valor, Of which this flora's essence borne, Entice me at this midnight hour. Early morning's dew drops sour Color faded, petals worn, I rest my eyes upon this flower; Entice me at this midnight hour

A Mother Is The World by Moonbeams, literature

Literature

A Mother Is The World

Fall once fell in colors here, you could hear the rust whistle on playgrounds, merry go rounds still spinning, swings still swinging. Today her reflection is grey the rain a heavy patter, a baby's bare feet tapping-- mud tracks fading on the kitchen floor; the door closing in its hinges. her reflection was once uncreased; w

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TheFavoritesProject

Feb 14, 2010

TFP Gone Home

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Please visit the new home of The Favorites Project over at LITplease (https://www.deviantart.com/litplease)!

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TheFavoritesProject

Nov 8, 2009

Poetry Feature #122

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Meaning and the Meningococcal by ~seeyouinjune Upon long walks from the working shop I would observe strangers draped in canopy...read more... Discovered by: `Amberlouie Selected by: ~insomaniac55, *AGMeade, `leoraigarath, ~lunalibera, ~Hope28  & `ATrue ABOUT US: The Favorites Project (FP) is an independent program run by dA members (not administrators). We are not a club so you can't join even if you wanted to, but we do ask that you watch us so that you can see our weekly features. STAFF POSITIONS: We have one staff member position available. If you have a few extra hours per month to dedicate to reading poetry, then drop us a not

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TheFavoritesProject

Nov 1, 2009

Poetry Feature #121

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How We Need Durability by ~ottersandsky I urge time along - rampant flock of clouds in the sparse sky - spilled like vanilla... read more Discovered by: ~surrfant Selected by: ~surrfant, `leoraigarath, ~lunalibera, ~Hope28  & `ATrue ABOUT US: The Favorites Project (FP) is an independent program run by dA members (not administrators). We are not a club so you can't join even if you wanted to, but we do ask that you watch us so that you can see our weekly features. PREVIOUS 2009 FEATURES: Anagrams in the air by *NightGrid shiv'ah by ~WhoKilledKirov we could walk on water by =Corina90 I Live In A City of Monsters by ~scribblesound E

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Profile Comments 105

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Are you coming back?

Soon.

Just been busy and am implementing and co-ordinating some changes for TFP which might be announced in the next while. Expect a new feature within the next few weeks at latest.

mamadoll

Jan 21, 2010

OKay cool! I had just come across something I wanted to Fave Share

I will hang on to it in eagerness

for the return of TFP

TheFavoritesProject

Jan 24, 2010

Feel free to send it in for voting as soon as you like, since the team will be voting on a new list soon.

Schemilix

Nov 18, 2009

Nice project idea. May I suggest an author you should read into? She's a good poet and someone I look up to in the literary world... not copy, of course but... you know, respect.

ffff your signature.

Yes. >8U