[x]

Waiting for a coach
and four
that never came,
she realized
a ball gown
won't bloom
out of sackloth;
glass slippers
are not dependable
and mice
are best left
to their own devices.
Midnight was never a friend,
and under that suit
he is the same as any other
man.

IcarusSun girl,

the whispering stars
& feathered clouds dance
for you tonight.

Do not let anyone
clip your wings;

you were made for the skies.

Definition of a Writerwrit•er

noun /rītər/

A writer is a person
Who sees the world differently
From a high perspective of understanding
To an easily balanced imagery

They stand at the edge of the cliff
And run that extra mile
To gain what a normal person cannot see
And to obtain the hope that they wish to cherish

A writer is a person
Who buries their ego and places boulders upon it
They learn the rules, follow the rules, and will break the rules
And make writing their own

They lay upon the dusty old ground of a graveyard
And do an annual ritual to free the inspiration that has been pinned down
They want to show their abnormality to everyone

Red DressDon’t put on your red dress
for he doesn’t know the meaning
he doesn’t want the commitment
he doesn’t care for the color.

The red dress you love to wear
that’s stained from wine and beer
but still carries so much meaning
for who could find a second red dress

Don’t go out on your red dress
for the man who wants nothing more
to screw around and doesn’t understand
the meaning behind a simple red dress.

A red dress for when you dance.
A red dress for when you cry.
A red dress for when you need it.
A red dress for when you care too much.

Don’t put on your red dress for him darling
he doesn&rsqu

i got flowers oncei am lonely.
i received flowers once
and i placed them
in a vase til
the petals all browned
desiccated
and turned to dust
on the glass of my bureau.

i have never gotten flowers since.

i spend my days
with a boy
a man
whom i love far beyond reason
and he holds me in his arms
and holds me together.

i bite my nails
and pull my hair
over the moment when he
inevitably
feels the disenchantment
fall over his body,
all clean lines
and smooth shapes,
and realises that leaving
the worst thing
would be
the best thing.

i am lonely
and even with a hand to hold,
and even with a cloak of security
bunching around my shoulders
and hiding my thighs,
i feel

moonshines in georgiaman on the moon:

giddy with lumps of north georgia seas
greased on the crease of my lips
gravity drips from couch-cavities
when tides belch from below --

burst on the water's edge,
earth's bourbon sailors retch in moonshined ripples
trickled blue murder on their crinkled crimes;
raking water wrinkles like a wayward drunk
stuck on sunken bootleggin' dreams.

it's been a long, long time
since I've drowned your hemisphere
for fishing like a moonraker,
swishing my bait-lines like tobacco's
squished in your shallow gums
before you dare to down my air
breathing in this sincere georgia night.

L.E.S.B.I.A.N.Living on the
Edge of life
Saving myself
Being who
I truly am
As it is all i can be
Never forget that

Blame The ParentsI won't be able to keep a relationship in the future because I'm scared
I'm scared it'll turn out like theirs

I'm a pacifist because I hate watching it
I hate watching them fight

I have PTSD because of their fights
Their fights almost broke up this family

I self harm because they are pushing me over the edge
I was already close to jumping, but they gave me an extra push

I'm always in my room because that's how I run away
I guess that's called "Like father, like daughter"

I only eat one meal a day because he constantly puts me down
Even though he's joking, I can tell he means every bit of what he says

I can't trust anyone because they do

Missing piecesMissing pieces

There are wounds
that never heal; silences
so loud they thunder - I stopped
breathing years ago, that night
the ice took my chest. Since then
I walk in pieces, howling
around my heart.

-SophieCT, 2012, 2013

Broken Birds and Stark PhrasesWe slip and slide and fall
down curves and carrow places.
We cursive at the wall
in our undefinéd spaces.

Disjointed limbs extend
to strumpet our arrival,
to warn who are not friends
we will kill to survive all.

Hung upside-down haunters
hug branches in the Forrest.
Merry nightmare monsters,
Cheery snarling chorus,

Arachnic children know;
you can run but you can't hide
from this disparic truth,
darkness waits for you inside.

Although you seek the sun,
as all creaky spinsters might,
the night can't be out done
and it has you in its sight.

field notesi read some poetry
just for the sound--for the words lilting up and down
and the thick, honeysepia
polaroids unmisting in my head.
those are the poems i never understand
and the only conclusion i can draw is:
there is apparently
some supernova poetic awakening that comes
with the loss of virginity
and basically i need to get laid.

MorningA black cat sleeps in a ray of sun
My coffee is lousy
Another cardboard morning
The day isn't a blank canvas
Waiting to be painted
Its already scrawled with
Yesterday's mad crayon drawings

Smoke drifts up and out of the window
I drink the coffee

blood-red wine and skeleton jazz i.
the day you left,
your cobweb dress clung to you in ways
that i would dream about for years,
in hot, fevered nights
when the moon thought it might burst
in the sky,
and even the wind wailed your name.

ii.
i remember how you called make-up war paint,
and you drew it across your face like a message
i could never decipher;
i remember how i got goosebumps when i heard
your heels clicking across the floor at 3am
when you finally got home and slipped into bed;
i remember longing for you with every fiber of my being,
feeling separate from you even when our clothes lay on the floor
and your fingernails dug into my shoulders
and your toes curled

van houten must be godi. you know how in embroidered cloth,
from the bottom under the design,
all you see are knots? her honey-like,
crying
voice lulls me to sleep,
that's what we see of God's plan.
just the knots. when in reality,
it's the design on top;
beautiful and flawless that He
has in store for us.
bullshit.
i learnt that word
when i was three
but every time i said it,
my face hurt and mom's hand fell.
God will put you
in hell.
do you want that?
i knew better than to say it again.
ii. you're an estimated
fallacy, the perfect
misconception.
you don't need to exist
for people to believe.
they make you real with
dancing tongues behind
a crowd
of murmuring lips of
god's will.
iii. of the rain,
i sang songs, whispering
prayers only you
could hear.
if you truly are
what they say for you to be,
then there are no secrets
between you and me.
mother still sings
the same songs
in the rain, hoping
you'll hear her the way
i thought you would.
but she doesn't know you died long ago
with chiv

The PoetFor the work of a Poet to be truly appreciated
he must write it with his own blood and tears for ink
his soul the sharpened quill to nail the words
like so many specimen of unwilling insects upon the paper.

And once he has bled out
becoming the cause of his own demise
the reader is left behind to digest his soul
so plainly trapped within a cage of words
his requiem written as a love song to his Muse.

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More from ~ElcyionCoire

OneAMWoohoo it's _am!
and it's finally time to write!

'cause we all know that _am
has always been the time

for letting words stream out uninhibited by a concious mind

the AM lets it out!
the AM helps you see!
that gee, I've been creative all along!
I just had to let it be...

Let it be alone awhile
let it simmer up and boil over
and finally explode!

So let your hands stop moving
and don't ever force the point

it'll flow when it's time has come
(unforunately, this

well never-fucking-mind it then!
it seems that I was wrong

who would've thought it'd be so hard
to rhyme a word with "cum"

"Last Updated 199x""Last Updated 199x"
and I can only wonder why;
why'd you stop updating? what made you stop caring?

I used to love these sites and sounds
unseen for untold years
uncared for
unrelated
to anything you'd care to do

but once,
a very long time ago

this may have meant everything to someone.

These things only leave me sad these days,
and sometimes I'd love to know
how to get ahold of
these people of long ago;

I'd ask them why they did it
and then ask why they didn't
I want to know their stories
and why we grow the way we do

I want t

Play me a SongGive me something sorrowful
play me something sad.
I need something cliched-
I want to know I'm bad;

bad at all this bullshiting,
at all the fake tears and duress.
I'm horribly melodramatic
and painfully underdressed

for such an old fashioned role
And in such a listless time
I need to know-

I need to know why
the fuck my thought
s betray me; why I
can't think anymore
, why I'm so empty
, so lifeless, so dist
ant, so uncaring; w
hen did I become t
his? Where did I g
o wrong?

Woman is still RainWoman is still Rain,
but this time I am no flower;

I am Sadness, Desolation, Lonliness.

But Woman will wash my sadness away
blanket the land and drown out desolation.
Connect me precipitately to Another

and together we will sing praise to the Rain

An Accident at 8:30am"Now I'll have to turn around;
the road is blocked again."

I turned around and headed back
(the kids had looked okay),

I took a left and realized
that I was late today.

I cursed the ass who'd swerved to hit that car around that bend.

and so swearing I pointed my ride to work,

vowing not to be late again

Untitled - Gift for X-Leiner-XThis soft curve here is pumiced smooth
and nary a hair derives
an easy life or
an easy purchase
but from you a hand resides
and slides around and down
to thighs and blossomed
Lotus
between

While these swells are ripe and longing
for you to enjoy a taste,
and teased with tongue and
pursing lips
my back will arch in haste.
But no lack of want will
cause me pause when at last
my lips

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[x]

Rut

by ~ElcyionCoire, Apr 22, 2007, 1:37:23 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

My head aches
          so I down a couple pills
                    with diet Cola-

               then I'm back to my chair
                              my TV
                         my game;

          It's going to be another long night

Rutby ~ElcyionCoire

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

©2007-2013 ~ElcyionCoire

written around 10. I was actually watching Dodgeball w/ my dad & bro at the time, but *usually* i'm playing games by then : x unless i'm out & about, of course >.>

fucking ruts >.o

adv. crit. 'cause i write so infrequently these days : (

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~jokerfan001 Nov 24, 2010

ahahahahah this SO DESCRIBES my friend XD s rutter.
her last name is rutter and shes very rutt-ish

Reply

~carebeararmy Apr 26, 2007

lol damn us and our ruts

Reply

~ElcyionCoire Apr 26, 2007

amen

Reply

Mood: Love

~litvamp Apr 25, 2007 Hobbyist Photographer

Don't feel bad hun everyone has a rut, i do when it comes to work. so buck up

Reply

~ElcyionCoire Apr 25, 2007

i'm tryin to ^.^;

Reply

Mood: Joy

~litvamp Apr 26, 2007 Hobbyist Photographer

lol

Reply

~FluffiestNinja Apr 22, 2007

I love the staggared line breaks. Few people realize that its how a poem looks as well as what it reads that matter. Loved it

Reply

~FluffiestNinja Apr 23, 2007

lol id say go ahead and post them

gotta be proud of your screw ups as well as your successes

Reply

~ElcyionCoire Apr 23, 2007

form & function work well when they work at all : D I've seen ((and written!)) some stuff that looked terrible. Of course, I've taken 'em outa my gallery or just never uploaded 'em at all, so hopefully the world will never know

Reply

~ColorfulDudzilla Apr 22, 2007

The way you write/type it looks awesome~ O3O;; dun change! </3

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