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Fade into Written WordFade in lines of written word,
disappear betwixt prose and rhyme.
Summon stories of stardust's song
and find fables of forgotten times.

Disappear from harsh reality,
seeking lettered escape.
Twisting lines into melodies,
leaving the long lost agape.

Whispering wishes of wanderlust,
daring dreams of dancing,
gushes of grace's grandeur
with the beauty blushing brings.

Let's fade in lines of written word,
disappear betwixt prose and rhyme.
Summon stories of stardust's song
and find fables of forgotten times.

Soul to SavePeople have greedy hands,
tearing at tender hearts.
Seeking a piece of soul,
wanting to belong in part.

In the end of innermost desire,
the yearning to contain --
something so pure yet fragile,
only to mistake and make pain.

Those of good and even evil
have dared to tread this road,
only to learn the reason why
people have this endeavor forbode.

Run far and fast my child,
depart from this affair.
Guard your hapless heart,
save your soul to someday share.

Memory's PainCut my chest open,
let me bleed.
Find my soul
and set it free.

Tears of red,
cries unheard.
Leave me be,
life's a blur.

Alone she treads
now forgotten,
mist in moonlight,
a mirror broken.

Find withered dreams
in torn up pages,
for death is gained
in memory's pain.

DreamwalkerDreamwalker--
lurking at the seams
watching her eyes flicker,
sleep making reality blur.

He creeps along,
weaving his song
exposing subconscious secrets
sewn in her hidden regrets.

Dreamwalker--
his eyes meet with hers,
only to slowly fade away.
For she wakes to light of day.

SurvivalSurvival.

Give a man a fish he will eat for a day.
Teach a man to fish he will eat for a life time.

Give a man a gun he will rob a bank.
Give a man a bank he will rob the world.

We adapt and adjust.
Constantly dithering on the cusp
Of what is considered wrong and right,
Ensuring that our ambitions remain in sight.

We would be willing to do anything
In order to get what we truly desire.
We would be willing to risk everything
Even putting our friends in the line of fire.

We may share the bounty with others,
Allowing them to experience the fruitful taste.
Given the option we will even care for our brothers.
Just as long as w

Of Random Thoughts and ThingsLast night, I thought of my first cat
when I was a child,

a jet black kitten with six toes on each paw,

and the lemon tree that grew
in the rear of my parents' backyard-

I couldn't climb that tree,
full of wicked thorns that tore my flesh.

So why did I think of the cat and the tree
on this particular night?

They came to me in a fog which
should have made me sad. After all-

five years later, I found my cat by the side
of the house in a pile of dried leaves.

I carried her to the back and sat vigil
under the lemon tree until she died.

It made me wonder, is it always this way
with all things, to romanticize years later?

I started t

Mother NatureMother Nature

Mother Nature has a temper
Like my natal mother.
Calm and peaceful for a few days per week;
Then, electrifying the air round the house;
Then, the storm blows in.

We ran for cover wherever we could;
Once or twice I stood out.
CALM DOWN! I yelled, defiantly;
That only made the tempest more intense.
One late afternoon,
Before she died,
Mom saw a real streak of lightning.
It hot a tree in our yard.
Nature had finally left a warning--
DON'T TRY TO COMPETE WITH MOTHER NATURE.

A Letter to No OneThe clock ticked against silence,
Upon the cemetery of a room.
Deep sighs weave through the air,
Meager warmth in compressed despair.

Moths fall prey to a musty lampshade,
An opened window to Night’s gloom.
Thoughts dance like ripples on water,
And clouds on the hiding moon.

A lullaby plays from the gentle sound,
Made by scratching pen on paper.
One story told too many times,
Is voiced from words created.

Though this time revived from lies,
A phoenix forms the ugly truth.
The pen rolls from the wooden desk,
Having served its final use.

Old dusty dolls and teddy bears,
Watched helplessly through glassy eyes.
No star showed to twinkl

The future of yesterdayI don't know about the future, so I look into the past.
But what was yesterday, and the day before? Time goes so fast.
Quicker and quicker the time flies, the future is the past.
I don't know where to look, all the impressions come so fast.

Where are we now? This is a future, it is a past, it's present day.
With all the things I think about, this I still cannot say.
Yesterday is in the past, but it wasn't long ago, it feels like today.
What the future brings, nobody knows. What was the past, we can say.

The future is like the past, and the past is like the future.
It is all knitted close into each other, it is like a suture.
For how

The World of My DreamsOut of the grass sprang gentle hands
that carried me over a field of clovers
And I drifted beneath the clouds,
gazing in the idle wonder
that creeps upon men like curling ivy

There was no bluer sky than that day,
and the trees-
there have never been more hearty trees
than the giant oaks towering above me
as the hands carried me further-

And when I awoke in this mysterious land,
I breathed in the scent of moist grass,
relieved to find that it was not just a dream,
and that the world in which I lived
was as beautiful as the world of my dreams

Hidden HuesRefusing to escape this perfect realm,
Oblivious to the alarm’s nagging.
Closing my eyes to falsely pretend,
This world goes on without the raging.

And yet too soon I wake to darkness,
All the sun’s light is a mirror’s illusion.
Nightmares clear the dreams I prolong,
Setting my fears into fruition.

Draped in robes of heaven’s disguise,
Evil taunts us from left and right.
So many forms it blatantly sports,
Angels must pity our little plight.

Fractions of time is hell unleashed,
Sorrow absorbed in just one blink.
Blades and ropes and bullets blend,
Each passing day a child will sink.

Colors dull to the undying clockw

Grief of a GhostThe light I always imagined
The transportation I have longed
Have not come of this new state
What have I done to be so wronged?

All around me has not changed
The house I always knew
And the walls the same color
The air the same hue

Yet when I lift my hand
In front of my cold face
I see right through the figure
Barely a line left to trace

As I take a step, or clench my fist
I feel my limbs as floating gossamer
My whole form is but a mist
I never imagined it would be like this
When I ceased to exist

I hear in the next room
Cries of weep and woe
Familiar cries of my mother, my f

Grandson of MoonFearless of the darkest midnight
I stride through the shadows that find my path
Though evil haunts my every step
I will not let this dark world control me
And the moon calls me to his grandson

The shadows surrounding me
Are the authors of nightmares for many
To me, they are merely shadows
My nightmares are of things worse then the night
And the moon calls me his grandson

As I walk amongst the darkness
I look to the skies for the lustrous one
He delivers the hope I need
I am a stronger warrior for it
And the moon calls me his grandson

DreamsWhat wonders the imagination can bring
With opened ear and untamed eye
Dreams that we shall toss and fling
And float about towards the sky

By luminous light of thought
Day and night will awaken newly
And become what you have sought
To find your most distant Thule

Never letting go of that which we cherish
The spirit of innocence and truth
Why without it, what would we but perish?
In the darkness of lost youth

Obsession"I need rest," she murmurs under the copper dyed hues of sunset's leaves.
"Why don't you lie down for a while?" He looks down upon her, intentions of night in his dark eyes.
"I need rest," she whispers as the colour begins to steadily fade.
"Then nod your head, there's naught to fear," he smiles, stardust coating his cold breath.
"I need rest," she sighs as the last of sun's warmth departs her core.
"Take a seat, my love," he encircles as a panther would its prey.
"I need rest," a cry as soft as a dove flees her lips.
"Lift your feet, one shan't stand for too long," he becomes a shadow looming.
"I need rest," her eyes of summer look u

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More from ~Extranzia

Let GoIn order to see,
in order to grow,
to have the best life can be,
the best life can show,
you must let go.

Let go of the life you have planned,
that one thing on demand,
so you can have what's waiting,
the life just for you is awaiting.

You may have to walk the mile,
fake a smile.
Lose to gain,
and gain to lose.
But you must not refrain.

Don't let the projections
of past and future
make objections
to the present allure.

Live life now,
someway somehow.
Do what needs to be done,
underneath this rising sun.
For life has barely begun.

Introduction IdeaThe beginning, the start, the take off, the introduction.

Some say these things are the most important, but you cannot judge a book by its cover. There is always a story behind the veil of an illusion, a facade, that some consider the introduction to a personality. Introductions are irrelevant, monotonous, unimportant. Yet it is a common courtesy to pursue any endeavor with one as a pretense to the journey of the thought of the start of a relationship.

Alas, this is my introduction, if it is even possible to introduce something properly without forgetting a small yet significant detail or smidgen of relevance. This is a place for me and me

Wistful WishingWrite me a story, construe words into magnificent sentences that set my mind aflame. Take me to enchanted forests, bustling cities, serene beaches. Set my senses reeling with description, leaving me yearning for more. Capture my heart and mind and set it free with your mastery of the thing I love yet fear the most. Break me down and build me up with your vibrant thoughts. Challenge my knowledge, then when I'm flustered and confused calm me with a soft whisper in my ear of the truth and the things I failed to comprehend and understand. Caress my emotions with soothing words and dreams, enrapture me in them. Make me feel insubordinate, helpless

Alone in ThoughtI am the girl sitting alone, on the bus, at the coffee shop, under a tree at the park. Unattached. Alone. Unable to be approached. Entranced in thought and solitude. Enraptured by its calm and beauty. Trapped by its darkness and pain.

Waiting for a wake-up call. Someone to save me from the thing I enjoy and yearn for most, for it will be my inevitable doom.

Solitude and thought.

Because that's when darkness creeps in. The allure captures me. The beauty of the story, the memories, no matter how painful they may be.

Because part of me will always think that I deserve what happened.

Writing is BleedingWriting. It's life and death. Thought, opinion, dream, want. It's a flow of words, things spoken and unheard. Where the only critic is yourself and a dictionary. It's you; your heart, mind and soul. It's what sets you free and imprisons you. When it comes down to pen and paper, thought and being, nothing stops you from releasing the fountain of words burbling up in your mind.

Writing is bleeding. Taking your life and pacing it into words and words placed onto paper. Writing used wisely can give life to others or let them bleed to death. It can give you life or let you bleed until you're a husk of a being and fall into the abyss and life ceas

Artist EyeAre things as it really seems?
Forgotten dreams,
abandoned streams
lost means.

Is there more
to the normal bore
the ocean shore
and thoughts galore?

What if there's a story
behind the story,
depth is given
once unhidden.

To see life
form an artist's eye
changes the thought of strife
for things of worth need try.

To see things differently,
and appreciate all beauty,
all thought, if not
an artist becomes naught.

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Walls of Ash

by ~Extranzia, Nov 1, 2012, 9:34:22 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

Walls feel like ash,
tattered and torn.
Dead leaves drifting away,
leaving naught to morn.

Rain washes away broken shards
revealing hidden truths of lie.
Breathing life into dry death,
past torments becoming shy.

The tower blown over
by whispering winds,
giving sight to new life--
allowing the old to end.

Walls of Ashby ~Extranzia

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

Written: 10/11/12

This poem is about dying to the old self, the dreary past and rejuvenating into a new endeavor, a new beginning of sorts. Written merely on a whim. I can see there are a few parts that are choppy, but I do not wish to mess with this poem and ruin the emotion and intention behind it.

If you like it leave a favourite and a comment.

I'm hoping to post a poem every other day until I am present with my writings.

~Vainamoinenian Nov 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This was gorgeous, but I'd just STRONGLY recommend you change the very last line to sound in tune with the whole story. I understand you don't want to ruin the original complexion but definitely there are lots of ways to slightly fix that thingy, I even wrote the alternative to "allowing the old to end" in my mind

~Extranzia Nov 4, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I'll take it into account, thank you so much!

I'll try to be weary of such things.

~BelaRoseWolf Nov 2, 2012 Student Writer

This is such a wonderful piece!

The theme and the choice of words are excellent. Great work!

*Everlasting90 Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I love it. Beautiful poem of rebirth!!

~Extranzia Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I'm glad you enjoyed my work! This one was fun to write.

~YoshiofRedemption Nov 2, 2012 Student General Artist

Wonderful!

~Extranzia Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much.

~YoshiofRedemption Nov 2, 2012 Student General Artist

You're welcome!

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