Posts Tagged poetry-ish

[Angel & Buffy series] And the Wish was made Flesh, Darla, poetry-ish

Posted by blackbirch in Fandom: Angel & Buffy series, Rated: PG friendly, Wordflow on January 7th, 2009

Originally posted 2008-11-11

And the Wish was made Flesh

She’s cold like winter’s touch
pieces of glass that won’t break
but cut you to ribbons if you hold her too tight.

Fist your hand and demand that she stays,
she’ll laugh in your face.
And fly off on her own.

Riches and silk, jewels and men.
Never again the prison of old bed linens
dirty bodies and no choices to spare.
Now she’s got the world kneeling at her feet
it just doesn’t know until she comes calling.
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[Angel & Buffy series] Their boy; Fanged Four, poetry-ish

Posted by blackbirch in Fandom or original, Fandom: Angel & Buffy series, Rated: Adult, Ratings, Wordflow on January 7th, 2008

Originally posted: 1st December, 2006

Their boy

Ice in her eyes,
blue as innocence.
Fake front,
clear cut through to the inside,
where the chill holds fast
and winter never fades.

Filth in his eyes,
the darkness within
taints the angel’s face.
Like the pattern of blood,
on a nun’s habit.
Devil’s artwork,
passion in corruption.
The young one’s tied,
his body splayed.
For pleasure. For show.
For him to toy with.

Joy in her eyes,
a heart still warm in her hand.
His gift, for her,
all for her.
Dark pride in his princess,
as he struggles to be like the angel,
like the monster they want him to be.

Fear in their eyes,
soft prey and rich blood.
His true face to meet them,
his fangs in their flesh,
white slivers of ice that cut so deep.
Family taught him well.

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[wordflow] Medusa, adult

Posted by blackbirch in Non-fandom: Original, Rated: PG friendly, Ratings, Wordflow on January 4th, 2008

Originally posted December 4th, 2007. incasink wrote a drabble and asked for more drabbles in her comments.  (sorry for wrecking the Medusa myth, blame it on Blood Ties tv-series)

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I bury you in my backyard.
Hold your face and kiss your eyes.
Empty and unseeing,
the mischief’s gone today

You were a bad nasty boy darling,
you had that look and we all fell,
deep into the pretty.
The sex, the heat and sweat of summernights
and busy bodies beneath the sheets.

Curled your tongue, winked your eyes,
cocked your hips and got us beggin’
to taste, tease and please.
You had us on our knees.

No matter it was all a lie.
A flash in the pan
and we all burned.
You were the fire and we’d drink our gasoline,
with a smile on cherry lips.

But you were a curious cat.
Wandered about dressed in nothing,
God’s gift to wandering eyes,
looking for mirrors to please.

This house holds no reflections,
no mirrors to reveal true selves,
or shine you into stone.
But you had to look.

And found us you did,
window images in a dark evening,
and our faces danced across the glass.
No chance for you to run,
surprise forever etched in stone.

The sunshine’s gone and
the shadow makes your body seem colder.
Marble and sand,
dark streaks across your shoulder.
Like a vein still and dead.

You turned around baby,
you really shouldn’t have.
Now you’re buried in my backyard
because even me
can’t have statues that lifelike.

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