To submit just click the following link:
Submit
Writing Buddy List
A short list this time around, but thank you to all who participated. Please be sure to contact your new buddy accordingly and good luck writing!
Read morePlanning on putting up the Writing Buddy master list tomorrow
So please be sure to like/reblog the post before then if you have yet to do so and would like to participate.
The Writing Buddy System
Having trouble keeping yourself motivated with your writing? Think having a writing buddy would help keep you focused?
Then the rules are simple!
Just reblog or like this post and in 2-3 days you will be paired up randomly with another writer!
If you would like to specify a buddy for either “poetry” or “fiction” then just reblog with one of those two words. If you have no preference, then all you have to do is like the post.
In 2-3 days OriginalPoetry will put out a writing buddy master list where you will be paired with your new writing buddy!
Time to bring this back!
I’d known you for ten years and I was diagnosed with love for you the weekend we met. A decade later, you were diagnosed with a disease in your center. I still loved you, even if it pained you to make love to me. You lost your hair, and I lost my mind. I wanted to give you pleasure, to put lipstick rings on your cancer stick. Drag you down until you were ashes. Exhale in my face for the last time — in that hospital bed, covered in itchy linen, you told me to burn you to ashes when your ghost left your body. You’ll always be my cigarette. Something I crave, filled with fire and cancer. Your tattoos still fill my eyes every time they close. As if the day your eyes closed for the final time your skin was inked onto the inside of my eye lids. I remember all of their meanings. I remember what it meant to love a man with so many Tom Waits records. I spin barefoot on our kitchen table with a beer in my hand, slurring the lyrics to Coney Island Baby. I still perform for you, in so many ways. The day you were diagnosed, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want to hurt you more, so I let the man take it out of me. I know it would have put a smile on your face, but a crease in your heart. You wouldn’t see the baby age, you wouldn’t age more than a year before you left. I did it for you and for the little bat inside of me. I couldn’t imagine bringing someone into the world just to let them lose someone as magnificent as you. I couldn’t imagine bringing someone into the world knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold them for long. I’d be waving it in your face every time I got to sing them to sleep, comfort them, live with them. I couldn’t do that to you. If fetuses turn to ghosts, you can have her. I’ve decided it’d be a her if she’s a ghost. I want to join you two. I don’t belong here. These cigarettes do not fulfill me, and they have yet to give me the fate I want. I don’t want to grow old, I want to be young forever with you. We’ll cuddle in the empty Marlboro packs that fell behind our bed all the time while we fucked and fucked and fucked. And we’d laugh and laugh and laugh when we’d do our Spring cleaning and realize I had a few smokes left in every pack. The morning after I’d always pout about not having a cigarette to wake up to. So, you’d go get me a pack — even when it was rainy and our car wouldn’t start. That’s why we laughed. Now I pout because I never lose my packs and I don’t have you to wake up to. I wish you’d return home from the gas station.
by Raquey
London Summer
Stupid sun dresses when there isn’t any sun
men in pale blue shorts the summers just begun.
16 degrees and the layers are getting thinner.
The youth with his desires thinks he’s onto a winner.
The pigeons are basking in a pool of takeaway juice
A can and his shirt off the blokes are bullet proof.
The Dalston hipsters all squeezed onto a roof.
Cool down with a pint in a warm plastic glass.
Cram onto the pavement with the rats and the trash.
Flower shows for the rich, only £50 a ticket.
Chain down your £1 geranium incase the youth nick it.
Strawberries and cream cheering for a British win
The Wombles all left they cant stand the din
Burnt flesh, red raw in the sun,
Burnt flesh on the grill the barbecues begun.
Roasting on the tube the airs thick and choking.
Don’t glance at the commuter you may just provoke him
Pictures of belles crammed onto the beach, “she looks bloody freezing but her bottoms a peach”.
Blink and you’ll miss it, turn and it’s finished
The rain pours down and the cities hope is diminished.
Fallen
I can taste my sin upon his lips
The flavor touches the front of my eyes
But the way he loves my tongue
Sends me into the highest of heavens
Though I walk in the lowest of hells
And though my wings are darkened
My regrets fill every swallow
The darkness falls for the light
Desperately trying to ignite a flame
~beneathourskins
I don’t consider myself a writer, but somehow, I always end up writing. Just thought I’d share, thanks so much! my url is compassing
