CONTEST FOR WRITERS! [Closed]

[Azi_Zahhak]

Lightning

I am falling. I am falling so fast the air sings like a choir and
screams like an arm bent too far back.
I am a tree on a hill, waiting to die. I dream of storms, my sap
is poisonous and sticky, like vodka thick with powder. Like
the liquid inside sleeping pills after you cut them open. Stings, as it runs down the bark. Numbs the tongue, tastes
like a thousand parents leaving at the same time.

You hear a lot of things about death, but there’s nothing
like feeling it.

Dying is a road paved with sparks.
Your life drags along the highway, spitting up a molten
rainbow into the night. When you feel death coming, it's a
pressure, a humming, a brilliance, some great secret that
hides behind everything. The dream starts to tear, the
world shimmers, Clouds turn into starbursts, the universe
screams in blues and greens and purples as blood vessels in
your eyes rupture.

I was a tree on a hill when I came.

I was falling, white hot and raw. Electric and wrath, I am
boiling air, and tortured light. I was a subway car, barreling
down on myself. I could hear death coming and it is heavier
than the sun.

I was a boy, dying on a hill when it came, the hawk dropped
from the sky like lightning, and snatched a gosling. It
snapped its beak at the geese, trying to fly, wings beating
like a heart.

I was a tree on a hill, when I hit. The sound broke bones, the
world turned white. The veil parted and for a second I
understood something worth weeping for.
I was a tree on a hill, and I am the lightning for which I have waited.

I am snapping beak and blood. I am fear and wonder, I am
fist and bruise, my face is leaking fire, and my embers
twine into the night sky like burning prayers.

The birds burn, the tree burns. We are a world on fire, a
wheel ablaze, twirling and monstrous. Growing and
bleeding, bursting and searing.

Dying is a road paved with sparks, but death is molten.
And we rose, the hawk into the air, dead child in its claws. I was dying, and so close I could have touched their feathers, life bloody and fierce, sad and glorious.

I should have died.
I did die.
A boy lay on a hill, waiting for the holes in the sky to burst open.

It took two days for the fire to go out. It took two days to
wake up, and do something that shouldn’t be possible.
Once, when I was a child, I caught fire.
But I rose, a hawk stained crimson. I am something electric, I am something impossible. A tree not consumed.

And I burn still.

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Not going to grade my work.
Haven't performed this one yet, but I feel like it's about ready. Needs to be timed to make sure I can use it in poetry slams, might need further editing.
This is the first, and so far only piece I've posted on Gaia. If you like it or want to follow the work I'll be posting here, just follow the signature wink
Hope you enjoyed it.  

[ROMARIO GET KASH]

who am i
i am the tear of a child stricken with sorrow
where am i
i am in the dark shadow called a soul
why am i here
i am here to warn you of heart break
when am i
i am here for ever
but who are you
you are the sun shineing on a cloudy day
where are you
you are in the childs dream to make it happy in its sleep
why are you here
you are here to tell people of good times
when are you
you have always been here from the start and always will be
you are me and i am you



gaia username: lis_loves_u
title: me and you
grade i give myself: B+  

[Tapteamgirl]

The Summer Rain



Suddenly, from all the green around you,
something-you don't know what-has disappeared;
you feel it creeping closer to the window,
in total silence. From the nearby wood

you hear the urgent whistling of a plover,
reminding you of someone's Saint Jerome:
so much solitude and passion come
from that one voice, whose fierce request the downpour

will grant. The walls, with their ancient portraits, glide
away from us, cautiously, as though
they weren't supposed to hear what we are saying.

And reflected on the faded tapestries now;
the chill, uncertain sunlight of those long
childhood hours when you were so afraid.