Sign Up!
Login
Home
Register
Login
Lost Password
Lost Username
Writers
Home
Search
Online Writers
Writing
Home
Search
Discover
Publishing
Home
Publishers
Self-Publishers
Literary Agents
Literary Magazines
Courses
Home
Search
Groups
Home
Search
Contests
Home
Search
Profile
Writing
Friends
Lauren
Writing
All Writing
All Writing
--------
Stories
Poetry
Books
Chapters
Screenplays
Stage Plays
From the back room
A Poem by
Lauren
Following years of quiet and intrigue thechild has come to speak she takes up no concern over her diction she only wishes to relieve me She s..
The i am
A Poem by
Lauren
I am queen of the moon and I am king of the Southern boy, spitting watermelon seeds five-and-a-half miles away from my front porch. I am the Great..
Origami melancholy: a villanelle
A Poem by
Lauren
Yes, my open wounds have felt the vinegar sting No other could touch They say pain is useless; pretend it's a paper crane. My ache was an origami..
The interment of Winter
A Poem by
Lauren
I see a dead mockingbird under the stairs and it looks like our friendship with its feet pointed to heaven and it eyes looking beyond nothing. The..
Why I don\'t remember my dreams
A Poem by
Lauren
When Twilight pinned her misty curtain to the stars my mind broke to shadows and songbirds which paved my walk with eerie perversions and mezmerizin..
Mixed blessing
A Poem by
Lauren
She remembered when making love was like rolling in a patch of clover, where every inch of her body was pleasurably tickled. She recalled how hi..
15-501
A Poem by
Lauren
When we were together the pines were falling from their peak, stunningly green with brown needles like the shades in your eyes. Laughter, almost i..
Baby blue
A Poem by
Lauren
Her eyes were hard opals before the light opened iridescent and reflective of monuments and plains battles and reconciliations Then in her own..
Car ride
A Poem by
Lauren
A man bared his soul to me, sang a stunning melody in the silent black of night. He asked about my childhood and where my mother was raised, what..
Betty Bear
A Poem by
Lauren
The purveyor of my dreams with eyes like hollow black marbles smiles beneath the battered blankets of my restless midnight. She smells of baby pow..
first
prev
1
2
3
next
last
Profile
Writing
Friends