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More from ~angel-in-pieces

Curtain Call If all the world's a stage...

The water is there before you, always;
Watching, waiting.
Show your weakness or show no mercy.
You look down into it and see yourself smiling back
Distorted
You recoil from the face
Fake
Mask that haunts your every move.
It’s yours
And that makes it ten times worse.
Paint on your stage makeup and hide your soul.
The water calls you
Hear your name, it wants you, wants you.
Down
Down
Down
Consume all my darkness. Leave only the good.
Without you
Maybe it will survive.
Then, wouldn’t we all?
Life goes on without you.
Without me.
We are only bit part players in the bigger picture.
Yo

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October 31, 2008
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Flipside - Beneath the Sky

by ~angel-in-pieces

Oh Mother,
I feel the soil falling over my head
(Over and over)
While I am trapped;
Crouching low beneath the darkness,
Eyes locked upwards, frozen;
Waiting to leave my body behind.

I cannot fall because there is no room to.

Walls getting closer
Smaller,
The sky is dark and noisy
With the sound of rain falling.
I cannot fall with the rain;
There is no room to fall
No room to breathe.

Oh Mother,
I am the girl with roots shooting
Through her like strong arms
And veins, gripping my heart;
A cold stone resting in cradle
Of charcoal bone.

I cannot die because there is no room to fall.

Oh Mother,
The sky is in the way
I cannot claw at it
My fingertips are raw flesh

Oh M-
My lungs are filled with cinders.
I breathe charred snowflakes
Against the sky.

Can you hear me?

***

She is crouching
Above me
Clawing at the sky
She’ll never reach me
Emptying out her eyes.
:iconangel-in-pieces:
Q: When do the dead really die?
A: In the eyes of love, never.

***

Inspired by Toni Morrison's 'Beloved' and the EA cover of 'I Know It's Over'.

My entry for Flutterings' poetry competition.
:icon:
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:iconinnocencedied2nite:
`innocencedied2nite Nov 5, 2008   Writer
I read something similar to this back in high school and it was one of those poems that has stuck with me. I like the way you painted the scene here, I found it sad, but very well done.

--
"You're sitting there with your muse and your muse is telling you something and you're following it, and you end up the next day looking at it and thinking "what the hell was the muse saying to me?""
Nathan Oliveira
Why's Raven like a Writing Desk?
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:iconangel-in-pieces:
~angel-in-pieces Nov 6, 2008  Student Writer
Thanks! ♥
I'm glad you think it works on an emotive level - I was worried I wouldn't quite capture the emotion

--
I am as tall as my shadow, tall as stories... ♥
Reply
:iconflutterings:
`Flutterings Nov 3, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for entering, good luck.

--
www.kathrynjeanes.com ♥
Reply
:iconangel-in-pieces:
~angel-in-pieces Nov 3, 2008  Student Writer
np; it's a great competition.
& thank you!

--
I am as tall as my shadow, tall as stories... ♥
Reply
:iconsmicket:
~smicket Nov 1, 2008  Student Artist
Hmm, a bit gruesome, but I still like it. I like the recurring "Oh Mother" especially when it becomes "Oh M-".

--
Gerard, Gerard, there's something in the tent Gerard...
Reply
:iconangel-in-pieces:
~angel-in-pieces Nov 2, 2008  Student Writer
Hmm... I wanted to make it slightly gruesome, to make it more shocking - but only in an emotive way. Do you think it worked like that?
Thank you, Fibe! :heart:

--
I am as tall as my shadow, tall as stories... ♥
Reply
:iconsmicket:
~smicket Nov 8, 2008  Student Artist
Yeah, I understand that, I think it worked. It's only my personal opinion. Still like it though or I wouldn't have faved!

--
Gerard, Gerard, there's something in the tent Gerard...
Reply
:iconangel-in-pieces:
~angel-in-pieces Nov 8, 2008  Student Writer
It was a contemplative 'hmm' rather than a disagreeing 'hmm'! xD
I'm just not so sure about how successful this is in what I wanted it to be.
I'm glad you like it, though! :glomp:

--
I am as tall as my shadow, tall as stories... ♥
Reply
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Dawn, February 29th I drive all night,
following the skyline
through the trees
until I reach your side, deer.

It's something about the way
you're lying, mid-leap,
as if sleep has taken you unawares
that stops me there.
And it's your eyes that hold me,
your unseeing gaze
that somehow holds me whole
in the haze of the moonlight,
on the rim of the world.
Like that moon,
you have run yourself blind,
unfurled
as if in a dream.

And it seems
your legs are broken, yet
in my headlights
you rise like heat
to the place where night
and day finally meet.Dawn, February 29th by ~angel-in-pieces
Case History We find you
where you had fallen:
face to the blue,
the wall between this world
and the next. You'd
slipped, perhaps, lost
your footing and now you flew –
webbed fingers outstretched,
your kelpie hair strewn
behind you. Your lips
are chapped and blue
as if bitten by frost or fishes,
the words choked back
in your throat as you open out
like an oracle, begin to bloat.
Your skin is starting to scale.
But you don't notice – in fact, you float
so serene, I wonder
if you've always been blind
and weightless, like an astronaut
tethered to the stars.

We find you
where you broke apart –
a balloon
loosed
from a chCase History by ~angel-in-pieces
By Heart Now that I have your face by heart
I look to piece the other parts
of you together – less your lips, your eyes,
like a knife-thrust, bright as dawn skies,
than the shadows gathering in your wake,
the bruises left by every heartache.
I long to drown in the depths of you,
to feel the waves breaking over me, the moon
inhaled, exhaled, cancelling out the sun.
I want to watch the lettercut light come undone
in awe of you, to see the stars run blind and tear
the very fabric of the sky. To hear
my heartbeat breaking on the same
shore as yours, time after time -

calling your name,
calling you mine.By Heart by ~angel-in-pieces
Girl, Fifteen, To A Lover She'll Never Meet Thursday nights are silver screened.
At nine, it's time once again to air
the prelude to a dream.
I wait, eyes square, for the immaculate
contours of your face to appear:
the features of a lover I'll never meet.

It seems strange to say
(a kind of admission of defeat),
but to be honest I'm OK
with the pause, rewind, replay
that makes up our relationship.
You have to admit,
knowing I'd never flip
channels or walk out when
you're in a scene
is a devotion, of sorts.
I expect nothing in return.
I know you know nothing of me.

But I can't help but love you;
your close-ups, your scripted smile,
the way you lean towards the screen
Girl, Fifteen, To A Lover She'll Never Meet by ~angel-in-pieces
Wintering It's a canvas of mouthings,
of open throats, that wave of grey.
Storm clouds pass like sails torn,
loosing their limbs to the wind
with each stroke of the brush.
There's a symphony in the rush
of them, howling their wolfcry, O -
breathings holes into the fabric,
Lethe leaving their lungs. And low,
tugging at the hymns that line the sky,
the moon, sister of a stone,
rises, rises with her hood of bone.Wintering by ~angel-in-pieces
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