[x]

Birdlike the soul findsFrown of frustration from him;
she savaged the self crafted.
A drop of sweat almost hit the ground,
but the feathery arm was quite a surprise.
Perched, it was no struggle to take off,
and I met you while making loops in the air.

Highly placed,
transfixed by the refinement of brick, wood.
Then, gliding between buildings,
the power of the draft,
the grandeur of building.
Our day ended atop a telephone pole,
seeing the bright orange and rosy pink fade away.

We don't have a song.
All we have is a natural strength
from an unnatural happening.
You almost left your burden in tears
before you were on that skyscraper,
searching.

DisappointmentOver before it started -
my long sigh a gentle, slow exhale.
That knowledge fit perfectly into the world,
notching into place.

You couldn't escape your old habits.
No helmets or seat belts,
only the comfort of Jim Beam.
Smoking around a gas tank,
even thinking the image itself
cheats its star.
Caution cast out:
proof of you is your
arm wrestling Hercules.

There is nothing to say.
But, like code, there are solutions.
Find an elegant line that fits -
risk in order to know -
and we can begin the process
the picture
of friendship.

We see the sky where it is skylessNot the crystal with the bluish tint,
nor the dark wisps rising from cigars.
Another realm entirely. There,
day ends in royal purple, fiery orange.
Gray walls hold those colors for an instant.
Air places dew drops upon grass,
as if to say the world begins afresh.
Birds fly together, each supporting the other.

Now the sound of change striking the sidewalk,
the smell of dirty pigeons collected.
Noting the white of the closed blinds of hospital rooms.

EyesLike a mosquito,
her eyes spoke hunger, leaving
only freezing blood.

JusticeFor my students – not everything I've learned. Just most of it.

Maybe there's some realm
where you're tougher than everyone
and all recognize, scatter.

More than likely people plot.
The many cut down the one -
a red sun falls and reigns.

"Wrong us, shall we not revenge?"
Over the wails of the sick and dying,
the silence of the imprisoned,

I hear you. I think about her.
How her portly cat rolled,
how she flooded her garden,

how she sacrificed for even the deserving.
I know the final test is not what you do,
but who you are. Why that last moment matters.

ExileDexterous turn of phrase -
silver moonlight, summer's lake,
illuminating nothing.

TemporarySterile light, greasy diner.
Chatter at the other table -
two encouraging each other.
No work, no desire to learn,
yet he deserves a girlfriend.
(Not his female listener,
of course.)

One almost feels sorry
when she recounts the significance
of every game of house
played in preschool.

Love eludes my friend and I.
Our table has never graced
a double date. Rather,
fried shrimp, coffee, steak.
One day, he'll eat healthier.
I'll be happy for him,
strangely missing this place.

SmilesNot even polite, meaningless words.
On these bright, clear days
she's outside.
Moving as if at a playground.
No wave, no "hi,"
certainly no "how are you."
Only a forced, slight smile
when I wave and ask how she is.

Attention might be a game.
It might always be "I'm interested."
But sometimes my grandfather comes to mind.
Sitting alone indoors with bad breath
and books about the apocalypse.
When after eight years I visited,
a bright smile,
eager to be delighted.

Maybe family are the friends you have
because few know how to be friends.

EstrangedLife's strangeness is not "Why are we here?"
Nor gripping a stone on the beach,
dull and glazed with watery texture,
wondering how what is solid
is so slippery.
The absolutely absurd also
escapes analysis;
we know it to be life.

Our difficulty is in the trying.
A sign of love exchanged by two -
nervous, afraid, seeking affirmation -
and only hearing the sound of silence,
the pale, fluorescent library light
vaguely recalling the moon.

FlameWhite candle, alight
as a daffodil always -
what prayer now answered?

Love in Texas1. Today a stray cat approached a friend and me while we were talking. It rubbed against both of our pant legs and was tremendously affectionate. It had a wound near its head that looked like another animal attacked it.

I'm calling animal control tomorrow, but I'm going to miss that cat. I really don't like the thought of it being put down: I just hope they can find someone who will take it. I'd take it if I weren't deathly allergic. The little cat hair it left triggered my asthma almost immediately.

2. Friendship is probably not seen as valuable in a goal-oriented, materialistic age. There are things to be accomplished! You go to school to

Children vs. NinjasSwords had dispatched Legolas,
ninja stars tore zombie pirate flesh.
There wasn't much left on set.
Jack Sparrow only escaped fiery ruin
by becoming a hostage.

The children at the mall were aghast.
Some even left the Disney Store.
A few chose to mourn privately -
back to home to watch "iCarly."

A tearful elite armed for war.
At Wal-Mart, rifles and ammo.
"No need for armor piercing,"
Depp's biggest fan screamed.
"They're ninjas.
They don't have armor."

All went well
until the ninja with the body armor.

The secret hideaway at the docks,
marked "SECRET HIDEAWAY,"
guarded by an intern atop a billboard.
Shot loudly,
dropped e

Frustration with dA"Thanks for the watch,"
then nothing else.
Polite, meaningless words.
Of course we know
not every stroke can be stared at,
not every noun can be analyzed.

Not every one can be friends.

I remember giving treats
to an old, deaf, ailing dog.
I remember bearing its smell
in order to pet it.
A cat saw this. The cat would
jump in front of me,
trying to get my leg to rub
against its fur.

Animals may not know to be grateful,
but they don't take for granted
what is good.

The Death of Anton StadlerHatred didn't harden -
it flowed to every extremity,
every externality.
To see was to see you,
betrayer of all you begot,
an arrogant sadist who said
he healed just to push in needles.
We didn't feel ridiculous. Our poverty,
our disgrace, was inexplicable.
We felt what we heard -
that we must have deserved punishment,
that we chose like stupid animals,
that our gratification broke down trust,
somehow.
Less than human, our bitterness
was the only way out.
Everything was your fault -
to say otherwise was to deny the world,
to call it cruel and perverse,
to break ourselves again.
And there was your corpse,
yellowed eyes, pal

Lie"Imagination and fiction make up more than three quarters of our real life."
- Simone Weil

"Lie!"
The shout tore
through walls, bricks flying
out the back of the house.
Some struck cars, smashing windows,
denting steel.
Others killed passer-by.
Pools of blood in the streets.

In a corner of the house
a spider wrapped in webs
found flesh and ate heartily.
We duly note the human liar
walked calmly out the gaping hole
with his property intact.

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HolidaysUsed speech, stumbling words,
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Submitted: August 5, 2012
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Teaching

by *akarra, Aug 5, 2012, 2:13:47 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Stuck.

Birds fan themselves;
in heat they witness
my slow foundation -
so slow nothing builds.

For me, no road.
Even rodents quickly
scurry upon the ground,
finding nourishment,
strength.

Soil. With grubs,
manure, the dead -
not my only refuge,
but my only.

A hoped-for flowering,
a temporary beauty.
Beneath the heat -
before the cold -
a sign things might
be better.

Teachingby *akarra

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

Some thoughts inspired by watching a student move on. The realization that I'm going nowhere isn't very fun.

I haven't written on haiku in a while, but I encourage you to peek at the haiku and studies I wrote about others' haiku if you get a chance.

I have a lot of you to thank and encourage. I know I'm really behind on keeping up with you. Please make my job easier and say hi. I'm very busy. But if I don't hear from you, it's that much harder to reconnect when I have a moment.

love 2 2

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

=andrewpom Oct 17, 2012 Student Writer

Teaching? Excuse my ignorance, but are you, in fact, a teacher? I've never really thought of a teacher as being as pessimistic as this... I guess the feeling of watching a student leave in optimism would be empowering for a teacher - although, if I am interpreting this correctly, the feeling of being left behind in that journey must be somewhat... depressing, at points.

~Sigma-Echo-Seven Sep 13, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Think we've all been there, marvelous pacing regardless!

~LauraChan3 Aug 28, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

this is really beautiful! It reminds me of some of Ungaretti's poems...where the summer's heat evokes a sense of stillness.
I love how you write. Your talent will definitely take you far, so don't be discouraged!

~purplemadness501 Aug 15, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Nice >

~kartiksharma Aug 9, 2012 Student General Artist

Amazingly done!

Good Job! ♥

Have a look please: [link]

~mandy-mythos Aug 9, 2012

I absolutely adore your style of writing. Haiku's are challenge to write, at least to me they are.
It's hard to capture all the imagery and emotion just into a set amount of lines.
But you do it beautifully.

I definitely envy your skill of writing. It's something I aspire to be able to do.
You have my utmost respect and admiration. Your work is phenomenal.

~IchigoNeko1997 Aug 8, 2012

AMAZING ^^

~ohio-writer Aug 5, 2012 Student Writer

The most powerful image here is how that concept of being stuck in something. Whether physically or ideally, this concept is the powering point of your piece. I really enjoyed taking in the imagery that builds the view from what essentially seems like the jungle floor - that absolute bottom. Strengthening that is the juxtaposition of corpses and bottom feeders thus solidifying the speaker's view from this lowly vantage point.

Your piece transitioned very well, and your punctuation made some very colorful phrases that I also enjoyed reading through. I really like the penultimate strophe because it had the entirety of the work enclosed inside. Also the opening stanza was very powerful. It transitions roughly to the next stanza which pays great dividends to your direction. It stops the audience and forces them to look upon this single word before skipping to the next strophe. A very nice touch.

Overall I really liked this piece, despite the gloominess of its overall message. Of course the ending does seem to let a crack of light in - which I took to be very uplifting. A very nicely written piece.

~Take-ApartxYour-Head Aug 5, 2012

You must like bird/animal imagery, I see it in a lot of your work!
In this particular poem, I'm very intrigued by the hot vs. cold motif. I'm not sure if I'm interpreting it correctly at all, but your description and title at least give direction.
The third stanza is my favourite. Why? I love the way "grubs" and "manure" evoke a feeling of heat, while "the dead" suddenly evokes a kind of chilling sensation (I mean, they're literally cold, too). The idea (developed in the last stanza) of being caught between the heat and cold is illustrated in that third stanza--the speaker is "stuck," as one would be stuck in soil (in this case, alive).
I guess, while reading this, I see someone half-alive and half-lost, looking for direction and envying the rodents. If not for the last stanza, I'd think "OH NO SUICIDE!" I feel like the last stanza is more about "learning" than "teaching," which definitely makes the title interesting.
Oooor, I might be way off on my interpretation here, but I like to read your poem this way. :3 I really love it!

~machmaste Aug 5, 2012 Student Writer

Very awesome ]:)

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