My Mother’s Eyes

Posted: September 16, 2016 by penpadsandpals in Short Stories
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“The last time I saw my mother was fifteen years ago. Which is interesting, because she was fifteen, and I am fifteen now. I was just a baby, newly born. My mom got pregnant at fourteen and had me when she was fifteen. She died after she gave birth, holding me. I’ve never told anyone before, but swear I still remember what she looked like. Her honey colored eyes were the shape of almonds, still bloodshot from crying and sweat dripping into them. Her black hair was up in a bun, with the loose tendrils around her temples curling. She smiled, and then closed her eyes.”
I stare upwards, looking at the stars. They shine like a thin veil of tears that haven’t started dripping yet. My breath leaves little ice crystals in the air, just a tiny trace of me left behind. My eyes are frozen open.
“You probably think I’m crazy,” I say, my chattering teeth clacking together as I talk.
“No. People remember what matters most to them. I don’t think you’re crazy,” the voice from beneath the thick fur parka says.
“It’s so cold,” I complain.
The air is crisp. Blue light filters down around me, turning my pale skin the color of ocean water right before it starts frothing where the beach begins. The snow burns my skin, leaving the tips of my fingers the color of pink petals. My muscles are stiffening.
“I know it is,” the voice says. I crane my head, pushing snow into my ear, which would sting if it wasn’t already numb. I strain my eyes to see who’s under there, who is talking to me. But the heavy fur lining of the hood masks the speaker’s face, and the stars offer no light. I think it is a woman speaking, but I could be wrong.
“No you don’t. You have that warm parka on. You’re perfectly warm. I’m freezing,” I say.
I shouldn’t have told Vince no when he offered to drive me home. He hadn’t had anything to drink. I had too many shots, too much beer. It doesn’t even taste good. Why did I drink it? Freezing now, I crave the burn it left on my throat, the scorch trails it marked down my esophagus.
I turn my head to the left, and see the smoking remains of my car. The gift my dad gave me. I shouldn’t even be driving alone, I’m only fifteen. Especially in the snow. We hadn’t practiced icy roads yet.
“I’m going to die here,” I breathe out into the sky, hoping someone will discover the words and find it in themselves to care.
“Yeah, but it’s not so bad. Barely even pinches,” the voice says.
“Why aren’t you helping me?” I ask, shivering harder and harder.
“I can’t.”
“Why not? Will you ever tell me who you are?”
I begin to feel less cold, and my heart begins beating sluggishly.
Two gloved hands reach up, and begin lowering the hood. My heart beat is getting slower and slower.
Come on you useless thing, I command. Ten more seconds!
The hood is lowered. Two honey colored eyes stare into mine.
“Welcome back, dear.”


Posted: September 16, 2016 by elizabethrose1415 in Poetry
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August drags by, savoring the last, blistering hot days,

But I can taste the pre-Autumn spice in the air.
Fall is on its way, so don’t be deceived by the sun’s rays.

September rolls in, gently scooting August out of the way.
The temperatures gradually drop,
And the leaves slowly but steadily change day by day.

October kicks September out the window,
And announces itself with a pleasant burst of color and chilly gusts.
The vibrant shaded leaves eagerly start to blow.

Autumn is here, and it paints the landscape with various oranges and reds and yellows,
While the air smells of crisp pumpkin spice and warm cinnamon.
Autumn is here, dancing through the trees — ever so mellow.


Posted: September 16, 2016 by jessplusjess in Poetry
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The sky’s blues

and hints

of cotton candy

fade into a blush

of rusty red

mixed with a dust of pink

And finally were stirred together

by the yellow glow of the sun


The orange appeared

above the yellow

intermingling with the red

The pink dyed

the cotton candy clouds

making them

fluffy balls of pastel candy

dancing along the skyline


The pink joined

with the fading light blue

that could barely be seen

through the looming dark hues

That ate up the sky

showing hints of purple

And on the other end

it faded into black


The sun gives way

to night’s silent bliss

It waves goodbye

and sinks below the horizon

The moon has appeared

for all to see

Floating amongst the glow

of space dust millions of years away


The world has quieted

to cricket chirps and frog songs

People have tucked themselves away

to wait for morning’s call

The fireflies glow through the night

tempting catchers before disappearing out of sight

The hum of the day, a busy noise

has disappeared into the quiet


And you showed me all of this

laying out beneath the light

Watching it disappear

as we held on tight

To a world that is constantly changing

from the day to the night

And you and I know that one day

We’ll disappear into the night

I See You as the Moon

Posted: September 13, 2016 by faithvictory in Poetry

I see you as the moon,

So beautiful and bright.

I see you as the moon,

You shine throughout the night.

I see you as the moon,

Quiet, yet there.

I see you as the moon,

You show how much you care.

I see you as the moon,

So small and cold.

I see you as the moon,

It can be hard to be bold.

Still, I see you as the moon because you live

Only off the light that the sun has to give.

Locate the Fear

Posted: September 13, 2016 by nataliegrace2017 in Poetry

Locate the fear deep down in your soul,
The darkest of darks and the lowest of lows,
The most unbearable thought and painful memory,
Unleash it from the chains to set it free,
You are no longer defined by your sin,
The Creator of Life will let you begin again,
Do not hide your crimson stained hands,
or feel you have to give into what the world demands,
Release your anxiety, guilt, and fear,
You have been made whiter than snow, my dear.


Posted: September 13, 2016 by notactuallymad in Poetry

I open my door, and my wallet falls
SMACK! Tingle, Twinkle, Pitter, Patter
Out fall the coins
I examine the the smooth asphalt
Where my car is parked
Only to see a messy constellation of silver and copper
Strewn by my feet

Some are shiny and new like the morning
Glistening like droplets of dew on the pointed grass
Others are sprinkled with rust and dirt
They must have a longer story
Each coin has a tale, short or long

I wonder where each has been
What did they buy?
How many miles has each traveled?
Who has jingled them in his palm?

Coins are like us, I conclude
People, big and small, old and young
Some a little shinier than others
Some who have traveled the world

My pocket now holds a dozen stories
I am a time traveler, now carrying many years past
I leave one coin on the ground
It is a shiny, new penny
Shimmering like the morning sun

And someone
Some lucky someone
Will pick it up
And two stories will intertwine

I Think You Broke It

Posted: September 12, 2016 by grace2018 in Miscellany
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In the spring, they met. In the summer, they were best friends. In the fall, they fell in love. By winter, they were head-over-heels.

For three years, they stayed as engrossed with each other as the flowers had been with the sun the spring they met. But, by the time the fall came again in the fourth year, the flowers were wilting. With each blow of the cold winter wind, more snow drifted down and joined the avalanche that had become their relationship.

It took spring many days to melt the feet of snow and thaw the ice between them. The summer sun just burned them, the fall only chilled them, the winter buried their love even deeper than before, and the next spring, no flowers grew.

Their love was no longer living. Instead of a cycle of healing, each passing season only brought destruction of its own kind. They knew something had to change, so in the spring of the sixth year, they met in the park.

They sat, side by side, on an old wooden bench underneath a great oak tree.

After many minutes of silence, he asked, “How’s your heart?”

She thought for a moment, then replied with five tired words. “I think you broke it.”