Challenge 91 - Wreathe

[RunAmokRampant]

Wreathe (reeth) v.

1. to encircle or adorn with or as with a wreath or wreaths.
2. to form as a wreath, by twisting, twining, or otherwise.
3. to surround in curving or curling masses or from.
4. to envelop: eg. a face wreathed in smiles.
5. to take the form of a wreath or wreaths.
6. to move in curving or curling masses, as smoke.

also wreathed, wreathing and wreathen (Archaic) are accepted.

Enjoy.

[Necroses-bass]

woo first there

[just a statistic]

TTThis is my first piece but slightly edited. I posted it somewhere else as well and some of you will have already read it but it hought i'd put it up here to see how well i've done compared to the better writers on this forum.

You despise what you are,
feeding your own hate.
True passion for your product,
but afraid of the sale.

The emotion of your music,
your hate fills the black notes.
Your love found in the white,
in the symphony of pain.

The conflict will never end

The pictures on the walls,
of sadness in the perfect world,
black smudges from the white paint,
of the stones that bleed.
Smoke without fire
your heart wreathed in barbed wire

the feral human you are,
sapien versus canine.
'Civilisation' surpresses your nature.
the conflict will never end

the conflict will never end

your hate fills the black notes,
in the symphony of desire.
Your love found in the white,
in the symphony of tears

[pixiesfanyo]

sup bitchasz.

[Disco Dragon]

Angels glaze my metaphors
To carry them somwhere beyond reasoning
Kitchy, never explainable
Numerous and increasingly painful
One hurts
Two kills
Three is unnecessary, I'll end it there
Forge your name on celluloid
Spectacular you spelled it right
It's not really your name
Faked me out, didn't you Mr. Jones?
I was one step ahead
Burying the dead before it knew it was
And now engraving the famous rock
Your career lies here
I'm so contemporary, so klever
New shade of dull on an old model
You kids are just like your fodder
Typical motherly response
One more word
And I'll scream two mouthfuls of impotence
Not really that important
All animals ultimately answer to their alliterative agents anyways
So hang up the phone
No one wants to be at home
Just carry a little bit of it around
Wreathing in a single, celllular moment
When tears wept without reason
And I cried with them
Why did I cry with them?

[super deluxe]

deck the haaaalls with boughs of holly
fa la la la laaaa la la la laaaa
tis the LC full of folly
fa la la la laaaa la la la la

Pixies dons his gay apparel
fa la laaa la la laaaaaalalalaa
trolls write stupid songs and carols
fa la la la laaa la la la la

Six Feet of Heart Break
A cry in the night while sweat drenches the pores,
The handle it strains as the earth leaves the ground.
Burrowing a vessel, beneath the worlds floor.
A love six-foot deep and a casket earth-bound.
She cries from the distance as she hides in the trees.
The shoveling echoes, the only sound there.
The bed that's created for the deceased.
Bury the feeling and forget her affair.

Handle the framing and hammer the pine.
It will not collapse without your consent,
Well that's what they tell you as they build the confine.
But earth weighs more then wood on the caskets descent.
I labored to build it, beautiful in its fashion.
It seems I am fit for constructing this trap.
To shovel the crevice where the flesh waits to ruin,
Where our love will lay while not fit to unwrap.

I planned it all perfect- depth to position,
It's what I forgot that collapsed the grave.
A heartache to bury and not to be woken,
A funeral it seems, is not enough to save.
Enclosed alive or wreathed in deaths holding,
The moral remains of what we forgot.
The senses awaken as heartaches are folding,
And pain turns to comfort as our bodies rot.

I dug the grave, I built the frame.

I saw the coffin fall below.

I shed the tears, I spoke the name.

I died inside so long ago.

[RunAmokRampant]

not entering due the lack of time (and inspiration)

[A_Perfect_Sonnet]

Rooted In the Air

Ordinarly, nobody thinks twice,
But tonight is an exception, another lurid but enticing episode, in a undescerning section of a city,
That buries it's dead underneath the flow of a harbor's magnificence.
It's such a waste, when they throw white chalk onto the river banks.
There's something lurking underneath the visionary architecture.
They modeled them after titans to bring a little lore into the grandeur, but never quite acheived the glory they had hoped for.
Instead they sit against the skyline, reflecting sunlight, to bring insight to a bustling metropolis and passengers on a train with a dead conductor.
Save the night from wasting it's time on stars to shine, and the energy consumed by constellations that try and scrape the sun.

There was a story, hidden underneath the conquest.
Lost like a grain of sand taken from the beach.

So tonight we feast apon written words, and poetry, that can seem so absurd when you don't look past the surface for the deeper meanings.
Dont confuse them with what you perceive as nothing but meaningless, trite symbology.

Will we ever build them high enough?
They already balance like fragile glass on the tip of a stilt.
There's got to be something, something, a meaning, buried underneath.

The air doesn't hold our roots.

This feeling is so uncentered, wreathed in development, but never quite feeling like we've advanced past clawing our way into another place of business, just to sell out stock.
Society is just another way to seperate the wolves from the herd,
It's an endless hunt,
And I'm running from the pack.
Take away the fangs, and we'd all be in the clear, but the aristocracy has a sway greater than any birthright could bestow.

We're all panning for gold,
We're all sinking for our goals.

We're all panning for gold,
And sinking into the riverbanks.
I know an idea like this can seem so overt,
But after all that strife for a place to sieve,
Most just come up with pyrite.

[bisnotch]

The Correlation Between Rapid Eye Movement and Nightmares

Long days make for long nights.

With cold metal against my molars
And rifled steel resting on my bicuspids,
I can only speak in broken syllables.
“Make sure the safety is off,” muttered
Mostly in vowels through a barrel full of regret.
Death is coming at 800 feet per second,
Spiraling through the soft red flesh of my throat.
“She told me to do this, I’m sorry.”
Guys these days wrap around pinkies
Like a constrictor around its prey.

I fell asleep early and dreamt in late.

“He’ll understand, I swear,” It just goes to show,
what happens when false confidence brings,
Out that less optimistic side of you.
“He’s capable of absolutely nothing,”
But we all remember the last time nothing,
Brought everything and put me in critical condition.
“That was just an accident,” but the wreathing smoke,
Seemed to have spoken attempted homicide.
I confide in nothing but find only comfort in you.

I writhed in my sleep and tied myself in blankets.

“Don’t do it. Please. I’m begging of you.”
That grin reaped wicked and held an answer.
A lifetime flashed by on forty five caliber lifelines.
“It’s time for parting ways, and last goodbyes,”
Everything fell short of making a noise.
I could hear the inner workings of a pulled trigger.
“I’ll have the last laugh because my blood will be spattered all over your conscience.”
Guns only jam on bad guys in movies,
A wave of anticipation towered over the receding tide,
As the under toe retreated with the relief from my mind.

It was a nightmare for all the wrong reasons.


Well I had a dream that my girlfriends exboyfriend killed me, and I ended up writing this. Weird inspiration, I know. weird dream too kinda, but atleast I didn't wet the bed again.

[ATC]

Don't tell the Children

After the rain has fallen,
Electric lovers wait for the night.
They know,
Pestilence wreathes day in gloom,
an inverse construct of time.
Why carry the world on your shoulders,
When it stays up on its own?

I let it happen,
Just because I could.

Dusk rises up off the ground.
Still they wait for the night.
Lovers, they know,
and breathe with the chords.
Why long for the sweetness of light
When you'll have it anyway?

I let it happen,
Simply because I could.

Dont tell the children,
They dont need to know.

Author's note: Yes, there are changes in voice. It's meant to be that way.

[bowl of oranges]

We don't have time for this my sweet, we must run,
from a thousand glaring faces intent on our demise.
From a million broken smiles, i dare to look at,
i can't help but discern a loathing in their eyes,
such a brutal semblance could bring a man to tears.
And tho they may drive us out,
they can't make me leave your thoughts,
the comfort of your sentiment,
where i'm safe, with you.

Yes, we must dash from this place,
faster than this axe is hitting the block,
we must wreathe a path to joy in haste,
yet so sly not a wisp of it shall be found.
more than that, we must weave a love so firm,
as strong as the rock upon which we build,
our life anew.

Yes, my sweet, they'll never catch us,
this i promise, if you'll just take my hand.

[slack]

won't be around.

[Scarred4Life]

Utopia for all?

Witness her longing
ice behind her eyes
ere night to dawn
turns the ebon skies
passionfruit kisses
throaty murmered rasp
heated last embrace
to eden, relapse


Return, my lost child
heed, rebellious son
wreathed in ivory light
your father soon will come
hearts of stone to flesh
the sinners all repent
my children live forever
in eden, rest content


Taste of salt and fire
scent of death sublime
broken arrow portrait
of the hero made divine
Savour the higherst valour
Defeat the thrice cursed foe
Wreathe your golden laurels
in eden, rule alone


Gaze on the last sunset
feel the earth's release
bask in heavens grace
in eden, will there be peace?

[WhatILivefoR]

Correlation of the Worlds

Please sir, let me persuade your hand
and mind to strike a chord with truth;
for this strained standardized living is
just the beginning grasp, of a harp;
of the very verve of your existence.
Please come; the purest awaits. This is not it.

What you welcome relies on your
translation of asthmatic expression.
The wheezing and whistling of tired lungs
and throats are known to all who breathe…
And it is passively accepted.
You grumble not, oh valiant soldier.

Servants who curve to this deficiency
find themselves embroidery;
harsh calculation plays no part in this
dramatic piece we call inspired living.

The realm of your love stretches out
however far you perceive it to be;
the kindling sparks grow more intense
every moment you let yourself run
liberated.

The upper kinds of places bend down
upon you, my darling;
the words they whisper,
like amethyst beds- their wreathen lilac; their
language reclines softly upon your ear…

Softly upon your ear, contrast curses barely
articulate behind the devil's mangy teeth-
that bite and tear and devour,
and burns away your heart.
I’m afraid all these known too well, my dear.

Come, the purest awaits you.
The lane of the forgotten will be left
for the depraved memories,
for the unhealed wounds,
for the ironic tragedies still of this production
where they can lie impaired as a bleak obstruction;

the kind gathered and observed
from behind glass windows,
in flasks; the white laboratories.
color them white, but not pure.

Come, the purest awaits you.
Please, rest your conscience
for a moment, sweetheart.
For as long as the heavens bend down;
peace threading through your lungs-
know the return to commotion
and chaos of our lives
can be delayed, even for a few seconds…

For I long to be with you.
Yes, I long to be with you.

[zer0gauge]

joshua tree

glimmer of copper
and a devilish visage
reckless abandon
was a simple design
a song in one hand
a mirror juxtaposed
paper tab or white line
or a hand that failed

your call was answered
advised, conceded
distracted by the reflection
in summer moonlight
"why are we here"
"I thougt it was more"
a flicker in the night
"because you're real"

california trips
miles of time
"43, do I look it?"
selling the world on the road
and more if you could
innoncent games played
seems the rules changed
somewhere along the way

maybe in semptember
a joshua tree can shelter you
and when the radio sings
Tomorrow, Wendy
I won't have to regret
did your demons wreathe around you?
or did some seraph stand opposed?
and your begging eyes
still haunt me now because
i wouldn't save you from yourself

[Corupt2057]

maybe

[DFelon204409]

My spot THIS WORLD TOTALY BLOWZZZZ

[Bigbadbob]

Is this the basis for all your action
Amusing to me, it’s singular attraction
Could a cold night in need
Divest you of such selfish habits

A notion of entitlement
Wreathes an avarice attachment
A toast to health, to wealth, to the
Smoothest flesh draped in richest silk

And they will make a million
Yes they will make their millions…

You can see it behind their eyes
in those shifty little glances
You can witness their cold hearts cry,
Whose wounds run deep and tragic

No, the intent is not benign
As they flash their little plastic
All they simply know is
That they have to have it

And they will make a million
Yes they will make their millions…

Like sparse summer rains
let the well run dry
Gold from the riches veins
Can’t fill the afterlife
So a toast to your health
A toast to your wealth
A toast to the luxury
You’ve afforded yourself
As you make your millions..

Soap Opera Con Artist

This backlit urban fantasy
Unravels through my eyes.
To strike a pose and feign a smile,
To conjure smoke and mirrors while
This backdrop of monotony
Makes way for my demise.

Show me what's material
In a world where weddings waste away,
Where amnesia and clairvoyants prey
On often vacant minds.

A wreathe of wicked glances
Kindly occupies my space.
The same scenario still has
A death grip on our speeches, as
The stares of end-scene trances
Will rain fraud upon this place.

Show me what is tangible
In a world where all that's loved is wrecked,
Where your death is just a side effect
Of a pale and wrinkled face.

My wife lacks faith to follow
My sharp dive off of the railing,
And death is hard to swallow
When the graveyard shift is failing.
So try to keep me close
When I fall victim to this cancer;
Just keep a careful distance
Or you'll get what you are after.