[x]

Better Off DeadBetter Off Dead

It was a normal Tuesday that I woke up dead. I could just tell when I opened my eyes that it was a different day. The doctors always gave people the warning signs for when they would die, so that there would be no mistake. A lack of warmth in your body, skin became pale, senses weakened and a distinct lack of breathing.

Rubbing the sand out of my eyes felt surreal. Every joint popped and cracked on their journey, which was rare to me. Naturally, I just figured it was a rough night's sleep and nothing more, but as I pushed the covers off of myself, I saw how white my body turned overnight. Again, death wasn't the first

The Stellar Void"Can you kill me, please?"

I must have looked startled because her expectant gaze saddened a bit.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Can you kill me?" Her face brightened as she repeated the morbid probe.

Confused, I couldn't help but notice her rather familiar clothes. Faded pink jeans, knock-off Converse shoes. Little black hoodie with a torn right sleeve.

"You just looked a bit angry and I figured you'd be the best person to ask."

I stood next to the bench. My backpack dug into my shoulder and I shrugged it off. It'd be awhile before the next bus came anyway.

"Why?"

She looked down the street. The dim lights barely revealed the closed shops and l

earth circuitAnd when the sun sinks, the earth's skin crawls:

I.
I wonder if this awkward creature would notice me the way I notice him.
He's so tragic at his throne
I stare after him longingly.
And yet,
He never realizes that I'm the one
Who forever basks in his brilliant beams.
If only he knew how much brighter he could burn
[with me]
He'd light up the universe.

II.
I heard him speak of thirst, once.
The quenching lust of the stars had run dry.
So that night, I brought along a jar of acid.
(And how it gleamed in his glow).
I handed it to him, wrapped in taffeta ribbons,
screaming
I wish curdling joy
On my gurgling boy

GrandfatherGrandfather, I've heard that there's a little lump of cancer
lying in your bed, resting its head
between the bed sheets, where it curls
against your side like a bloated alley cat; close enough
to finger every heartbeat
that races through your pale blue veins. I've heard
that it comes a-knocking in the night like a stranger,
wandering door to door along your ribcage
and running its hand down the thin paper walls
as it looks for a quiet place to sleep away the stars.

I've heard that it comes into your bed
and peels your eyelids apart
and roots itself inside your dreams, silent
as a secret. The tumors grew within your pancreas
like

End of the World?"End of the world?" Richard looked up from his newspaper. "Bollocks! The world will always be here. What you really mean is it's the end of humanity!"

Dumping the paper down on the curb next to him he got to his feet. "If the crazies with shotguns or the blasted zombies don't get us all, this waiting will! I say lets go out with a little style! What d'ya think, Mertle? Shotgun or chainsaw?"

Unfortunately for Richard, the voice he heard answer him was nothing beyond his own mind because Mertle was in fact, an old microwave sitting on the street, with a sm

Me, You and ShoesI saw your shoes the other day. It was just a glimpse of them as you went through the door, but it was enough. Funny, there must have been fifty people around. It's been years and my subconscious can still pick you out of a crowd.

I wasn't sure it was you, though. That's why I'm eating lunch on this bench. I was checking to make sure it wasn't just my mind playing tricks on me, digging up old stuff I thought I buried behind everything I tried to make new in my life. I used to follow guys in orange coats down the hallway, praying they'd turn around and be you. I alwa

ChoosePAGE ONE

You look at a huge door. The princess is inside, waiting to be rescued. The glowing fairy fluttering around your head tells you 'The door is locked! You need the dragon key to open the door!'
You look around.

If you venture west, turn to page two.

If you explore east, turn to page ten.

PAGE TWO

You encounter a goblin.
You hit it for 6HP.
He hits you for 2HP.
You hit it for 6HP.
The goblin disappears in a puff of smoke.
The fairy shouts 'HEY! LISTEN!' in a shrill voice.

To listen, turn to page five.

To ignore her and continue your quest, turn to page three.

PAGE THREE

You encounter a bird.
You swing at it with your sw

A game of dice'There are more cats than tables in this café.' I remark.

He tilts his head in his characteristic brisk nod, 'Aye, well, there will be no rats in the cellars.'

I brush off the crumbs from my napkin; he lets his drop into a crumpled ball of cloth onto the table. I step off the raised pavilion, past the bougainvillea and onto the road. I hear a chair grating, someone shouting something to me in a high pitched voice, and tyres screeching.

I twist my head and see a sedan speeding towards me, its burning tyres shrieking curses at me; in slow motion, I register the type of car – a Honda accord -, its registration number – a couple

the things they should have told ussee, no one really warns us about growing up.
they leave out things like heartbreak and gossip and broken people you could have saved but didn't.

it is this: the girl who holds her wrists and sits alone and tells me no child should ever grow up being afraid of someone who should love them. Her eyes are fierce, and something inside me is screaming but the clock ticks and the moment is past. i pretend i can't hear the pieces of her shatter as they hit the floor.

the next time we speak there are new shadows beneath her eyes and her shoulders hunch as if somehow she could fold into herself and disappear. maybe it would be better for us both if

Soak My Feet In WineWhen the sun and the earth were in love, ever young
I was born on a full moon with silver clarity
I'm that woman who sleeps on olive groves
Who makes angels fall in love with men's daughters
And lets herself be tricked by your sweet spells
Who obeys the very impulse of her heart
Do you know who I am, where I came from ?

I live where stars grow bigger on a light breeze
Where butterflies were once flowers
Where God blessed my garden in Eden with peace
There, where I lay on a cloud softer than foam

When the day splits into two halves, you see me
My steps are as light as those of a chamois
My hair running wild; wings of an

SnowstormThe children misheard you.
They broke open the jar
looking for petals
and found only flours.

The dust is everywhere,
settling everywhere,
on the refrigerator and the stove,
on the startled mother cat
yowling her pawprints
through the snowy floor,
on her sharp-eared kittens
prancing in the clouds.

The three-year old is screaming.
He has cut his finger on the glass,
there are red streaks in the snow,
and his white-faced brother
stares up at you with a look
commonly reserved for
the confused and the betrayed.

As yet, untitledI swept out the corners of my mind today
In short shallow strokes
Not knowing if the dust disturbed my life
Or if my life disturbed the dust.

The Instinct of CellsThe Instinct of Cells

beauty softens each of us
like an egg soaking in vinegar,

but I have always been soft,
soft as baby fuzz,
a flabby soul
stuffed into my skin
like sausage meat inside a hog casing.

I have no idea what it’s like
to have to kill,
to jump out of an airplane,
to learn I have cancer.
I spray lavender-vanilla mist on my pillow
to help myself
sleep.

the hardest thing in my life
was when my dad died. they tattooed
little dots on his head
to help them aim their rays. his hair
started to fall out. luckily,
he didn’t have much to lose.

I correspond over the Internet
with a young woman
in England. she

The Witching HourFreshmen don't get to choose their dorm rooms.  There are a few that are set aside specifically for freshmen: the small rooms, the ones with awkward angles, the ones farthest from the Dining Hall.  But when the entering class is larger than usual, some of the rooms usually reserved for upperclassmen are opened up.  If you're lucky, you could get one of the best rooms available.

I had a large class.  And I got lucky.

My room wasn't huge, especially for sharing with a roommate, but it was on the top floor, right by the Bell Tower.  It had a soaring ceiling, with windows nearly as tall. &#

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Windowpanes More often than not, I find myself lost in thought when I gaze out windows. One hand on the glass, another on a wall – seeing through mind and eye simultaneously, melting reality with imagination. It's special, I suppose; nearly no one can know what I think when I am lost. I am unaware of my expressions, but one cannot know another's thoughts simply by looking at their face. I am entirely myself in those moments, even when I imagine I am someone else.

And sometimes, if I drift far enough away, I can catch a glimpse of a memory, as if in a dream – I am younger and things don't matter, not like they do now. Birds are chirping in th

1. IntroductionThe seashore sounds; it tickles past my ears
As wind slips through my mind and tosses thoughts
About, like new beginnings, clouds that clear
From day to night: the answer's what I sought.
At times I lay there, nestled with the swans
Who gather downy hopes, and blankets weave.
Enticing sleep, they stretch their wings and yawn
Welcoming me with one lone call: Believe.
And so I rose, in hammocks made of twine
Carried by those brilliant birds of white,
Above my fears and nightmares stain'd with wine
To places dream'd of, never within sight.
There, the ocean sang and I forgave
In silence, left to stargaze o'er the waves.

WatersideMy thoughts were lulled to sleep
By the gentle undulation
of the lakeshore waves.
Droplets of spray flew to my mouth
rested on my tongue
and I tasted
centuries of endless blue
in the space of
a timeless moment.
A thousand years past
I sat on these rocks
and drank these same memories –
A thousand years later,
I sit here still.

ObservationalShadows stretch beyond
Mine mingling with the trees
their branches, reaching
caressing

Winter storm had tossed their
limbs – lifeblood spilled, like
dripping, melting snow

Sunlight dapples emerging ground
who throws off his cloak of
cold, white

Bird twitters, squirrels rustle in
last autumn's leaves
scritch-scratching

My pencil mirrors them
Scritch, scratch…

People begin to filter through
my humble vision
A family rides by –
young ones on scooters,
bikes with training wheels
Dad walking briskly beside
watching, caring.

Dogs bound by, man close behind
digging, pawing, nuzzling
frozen earth

Dogs and dogw

Afternoon TeaHow I loved those tiny china teacups
that I placed upon that tiny table,
rearranging each day, changing the position
of the blue-striped with that of the pink-flowered.
Little rabbits sat down to tea,
and I in my Easter bonnet, with plastic sunglasses
wearing Mommy's old shoes
and Daddy's stained tie
played alongside them in the dusty beams
of the noontime sunlight.

We would chat about grasshoppers
and the fairy houses in the backyard,
and the state of the bathroom potion shop
and all the most important things.
And I would bake us crumpets in the bookshelf oven
between Mother Goose and Winnie-the-Pooh.
When they were fit to e

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waking-cat's morning reflection

by ~Adagiobunny, Apr 1, 2012, 10:20:41 AM
Community Projects / Projects / Free Fella

yyyyy
   yaaaaaaaa
           aaaww
                  wwnn
                       nnn
                          nn
                        what a
                     strange mor-
                   -ning to wake up
                  to when the sun bare-
                 -ly graces the treetops
                   and I think to my furry
                   little self that the time
                 has come to prowl  about
              the foggy dawn    dew  and
             make the best    of life as we
            know it be-        -cause really, the                              (p)
           sunrise                  doesn't last for long                      uurrr
           and                         before we realize it we'll           meeowrrrr
           be                             one   with   the   dewdrops   (stretch greet)
         that                              lick my paws – the sun will dry (meeow)
            them                              off soon enough and then we'll
                                                           all be nothing more than memories on parched
                                                                                                                        grass.

235 Comments

waking-cat's morning reflectionby ~Adagiobunny

Community Projects / Projects / Free Fella

Just having a bit of fun.

Can be read normally from left to right, regardless of spacing. Comments are loved!

Enjoy.

(Written for the first day of NaPoWriMo.)

Edit: A DLD?!

Thanks so much to =TwilightPoetess for the feature!

Subsequent edit: A DD?!?!

I honestly don't know what to say. A million thank yous to =Kneeling-Glory for suggesting and ^Beccalicious for featuring!!

Also, thank you very much to everyone who has faved and commented - I promise I will get back to all of you in time, and I really appreciate the support!

Daily Deviation

Given 2012-04-09

waking-cat's morning reflection by ~Adagiobunny Suggester writes: It is not often that people attribute philosophical musings to a cat's morning stretch. A wonderful example of the results of April Fool's caturday art! ( Suggested by `Kneeling-Glory and Featured by ^Beccalicious )

love 7 7

joy 6 6

wow 2 2

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

*Trippy4U May 7, 2013

So creative...a well deserved award

=SilverInkblot Dec 28, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Hi there! Just a note to let you know I've featured this piece in my 2012 showcase of literature: [link]

~Adagiobunny Jan 19, 2013 Student Writer

Ahh, thank you so much!! I really appreciate it.

=SilverInkblot Jan 19, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

You're welcome

=HillsOfMyst Oct 11, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

this is probably the best visual poem i have ever seen. i've always wanted to do something like this but i'm terrible at formatting. and the poem itself is just great, and the little meows here and there are just perfect.

~Adagiobunny Oct 18, 2012 Student Writer

ahh, thank you so much - your comment made my day! the formatting is only a bear if you overthink it (though it is a lot easier on paper than on the computer...

). you should give it a shot! if it doesn't work out, you can always call it abstract...

glad you liked the meows - i was trying to reflect the way our thoughts overlay our actions.

=HillsOfMyst Oct 18, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

you're very welcome!

it's not so bad i guess, just very time consuming

~Adagiobunny Nov 7, 2012 Student Writer

ah, so true. though perhaps one day the idea will hit you and the words will fit perfectly with the world. you never know!

~cembree May 8, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

I've seen a lot of concrete poems about cats, but this one is definitely the best.

1)The poem itself sounds like a cat
2) The poem isn't just forming the outlines of a cat; it is a cat
3) This pose is so dynamic. It brims with life.

~Adagiobunny May 13, 2012 Student Writer

Thank you so much for the lovely compliments!

I had a lot of fun putting myself in a feline mindset while writing this. Also, I've always loved the idea that we are made of our thoughts... thus, the full composition instead of an outline.

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