Waterfire

JCWriter

United States

I'm a "pre-published" novelist with a passion for free verse and high fantasy (and occasionally being over-dramatic).

Waterfire

JCWriter (United States) liked Food for Love by Anna Lang (United States)

1 day ago

Waterfire
Competitor

JCWriter (United States) earned a badge Competitor

9 days ago

Waterfire
1

JCWriter (United States) published:

We breathe the same air

PROMPT: Poetry and Spoken Word Competition

Link to performance video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=11&v=rkAln-KG1-I
***

We breathe the same air
as them, the rest of the world
but we are different
our own nation, separated
because we span the globe

We are one, but
it is because we are strangers
among "our kind," the people
we’re supposed to recognize
they cannot understand us

So often we feel alone
lost as polar bears in a rainforest
full of unfamiliar shades and shadows—
panthers and brightly plumed birds
each in their...

Seeking Peer Reviews

9 days ago

Waterfire
1

JCWriter (United States) published:

We breathe the same air

PROMPT: Poetry and Spoken Word Competition

Link to performance video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=115&v=qHypUb6usDQ
***

We breathe the same air
as them, the rest of the world
but we are different
our own nation, separated
because we span the globe

We are one, but
it is because we are strangers
among mankind, the people
we’re supposed to recognize
they cannot understand us

So often we feel alone
lost as polar bears in a rainforest
full of unfamiliar shades and shadows—
panthers and brightly plumed birds
each in their own...

Seeking Peer Reviews

16 days ago

Waterfire

JCWriter (United States) liked ​Metro Manillenium by Gabriel Goodwin (Philippines)

19 days ago

Waterfire

JCWriter (United States) liked Forest of Oak, Beach of Fire by MyShotPotter (United States)

21 days ago

Waterfire

JCWriter (United States) liked An Old Man's Pride by MyShotPotter (United States)

21 days ago

Waterfire

JCWriter (United States) liked Trapped by caswin1 (United States)

21 days ago

Waterfire
2

JCWriter (United States) published:

El Bilir Ki

PROMPT: Love in 13 Words

I didn't think I had a home--until I left. Now I know better.

Seeking Peer Reviews

23 days ago

Waterfire

JCWriter (United States) liked A Lover, a Hero, a Rebel, and a Sage by RainAndSonder (United States)

23 days ago

Published Work

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition

We breathe the same air

Link to performance video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=11&v=rkAln-KG1-I
***

We breathe the same air
as them, the rest of the world
but we are different
our own nation, separated
because we span the globe

We are one, but
it is because we are strangers
among "our kind," the people
we’re supposed to recognize
they cannot understand us

So often we feel alone
lost as polar bears in a rainforest
full of unfamiliar shades and shadows—
panthers and brightly plumed birds
each in their own place

We are the one piece of the jigsaw
that doesn’t seem to fit
and never has, the one piece
that lies forgotten beside
the full picture of a people—unified

We are the undefined, foreign
in every land we dare to walk
alien
forgotten even while we’re in demand
we fear the world will never understand

We are chameleons
forever changing color
to fit in
to match our surroundings
masters of camouflage

We feel our true selves slipping
amid...

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition

We breathe the same air

Link to performance video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=115&v=qHypUb6usDQ
***

We breathe the same air
as them, the rest of the world
but we are different
our own nation, separated
because we span the globe

We are one, but
it is because we are strangers
among mankind, the people
we’re supposed to recognize
they cannot understand us

So often we feel alone
lost as polar bears in a rainforest
full of unfamiliar shades and shadows—
panthers and brightly plumed birds
each in their own place

We are the one piece of the jigsaw
that doesn’t seem to fit
and never has, the one piece
that lies forgotten beside
the full picture of a people
unified

We are the ones
who should be anywhere at ease
and yet we are the ones
who are always out of place

We are the undefined, foreign
in every land we dare to walk
alien
forgotten even while we’re in demand
we fear the world will never understand

We...

Love in 13 Words

El Bilir Ki

I didn't think I had a home--until I left. Now I know better.

Monostitch

Little Candle

A little candle can spread light even if the room is big.

Zoom In

It Is My First Home

    Go to the little country by the little sea (or the enormous lake, depending on your point of view), where the air is always full of sand and smog because the wind is as constant as the sky. Then go to the city where towering infant skyscrapers dot the horizon near the coast, overlooking countless ramshackle homes of every shape and size. From there, delve deep into the city and go to the school--remodeled now, new and shining like a butterfly in comparison with its caterpillar-like former self. Then cross the street two times, dart between the buildings, stop in the courtyard ringed by yellow-gray apartment buildings, and stare up at the second-story window on the right of the building whose back faces the street.
    I don't know who lives there now, or if our old landlord still owns the apartment, whether they've remodeled or whether the faint scribbles on the wallpaper here and there can still be found. I...

The Unknown

I Do Not Know Much About You

I do not know much about you
I have never worn your shoes,
    been inside your mind,
    felt your enthusiasm,
    trembled at your pain,
    retreated from your nightmare terrors,
    glowed with nostalgia at your deepest memories,
    or watched your train of thought roll by.
I do not know what things stir your spirit,
    what deep passions land your feet on the floor every morning,
    what injustices shake you to your core.
I can guess these things,
    but in the end
    you are you
    and I am me
And we do not know what it is like
    to have lived each other's lives

Ten Words to You

The Land of Fire

Smoggy horizon, Caspian Sea, eternal flames, relentless wind. Tea; hospitality.

“In January”

In January

Here we sit,
inside
around a cluster of desks,
shoved together like
the easiest jigsaw in the world;
laugh, smile, talk, write

We listen to the thunder
of the athletes outside
as they dribble--
it's like heavy rain
drum-drum-drum-drum
they sound like an army

Clouds pass over the sun,
anxious masks too hurried
to pour out their tears--yet
instead,
they cast our room into momentary shadows
once in a while

So here we sit,
talking, writing, listening
to the thunder
that isn't thunder; and
I sigh into my computer screen:
"Doesn't that just sound like fun?"

We laugh;
It doesn't.

Intersection

A City

a teeming mass of concrete, grayness, steel
and glass and fluorescence; they say
that Mother Nature has forsaken this place,
the City

I know better

the polluted sea may be just that but
it still rolls along in waves, driven
by the wind that carries gritty sand
into my face

Nature breathes

the sky is gray but still the sky, still
full of clouds, and somewhere beyond those,
there's still sunshine; and down here, we have
the wind

Nature smiles

it may be a City, but there, see, there's a tree,
an evergreen, waving its branches and swaying,
gently, showing that Nature can still be found--
even here

Fernweh

Tacitagrim

tacitagrim: (noun) a deep sorrow/grief/anguish that is kept hidden
        pronunciation: tah - si - TAY - grim
From the Latin tacitus (silent, secret) and aegrimonia (sorrow, melancholy, grief, mental distress/anguish).

Usage:

Her tacitagrim had grown to the point where she would stop sometimes, just freeze mid-step, and bite her lip, her eyes swimming in a symphony of unnamed emotions.

It's hard to describe the feeling of tacitagrim--you just sort of keep living, but every now and then you remember it and it's like somebody stabbed your spirit, and your entire inside is crying but on the outside you just pause for a moment and sigh.

Why I Write

A Possibility

I write
because I want to feel the world
through my imagination;
I want to see the world
with sparrow's-eyes—from high
up in the air, beating my wings of words
and marveling at the magnificence
of everything.

I write
because it is the only way to trap
the memories
that constantly threaten to escape—
wisps of dreamland, dissipating
into the fog of long-term remembrance,
some of them mine
some of them imaginary,
all of them crying out
to be written—written!
before it's too late.

I write
because otherwise I'll never know
who I am;
how could I leave myself lost,
buried under a mountain of words
I left unwritten?

I write
because I have no choice;
stories are involuntary—
I can't help it,
they just fall
out of my brain, off my fingers
onto the page.

I write
because empty paper is simply
a possibility.

Flash Autobiography

Me, on the page

    Tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap. My fingers are like lightning, flashing back and forth across the keys in a drumming rhythm that can only mean inspiration. Saturday sunshine highlights lazily fluttering dust particles and illuminates my arm, which is stretched across the pile of homework I am studiously ignoring in favor of the light bulb in my brain.
    There's this feeling that always comes when we stumble out of bed in the middle of the night, rubbing our eyes and blinking. The lights are all on; it's pitch black outside. No sounds penetrate the peace of the night except us as we run around frantically, complaining that our toothbrushes and hairbrushes have all been packed into the suitcases.
    There—that was good, wasn't it? No, forget whether it was good or not, just keep writing. And writing. My hands are a waterfall of words. Once in a while, a fragment of a guilty conscience persuades me to do a...

Dialogue Dexterity

Negotiations

    This conversation is going to be about as pleasant as finishing two hours of homework only to find that the worksheet has questions on the back, I reflected, reaching for the door handle. And of course, that was assuming I survived the whole thing.
    But Darcy wouldn't really kill me, I reasoned. She certainly acted like she could (and, frequently, like she would), but she'd never actually do it. She could be dramatic, in her own brooding, catlike way, and yet...when it came down to it, she was probably one of the most sensible people on my team.
    Once I was in the room, it wasn't hard to find her—it was impossible to miss the roiling cloud of darkness in the corner by the bookshelf. I knew she would be inside it somewhere, but I wasn't about to venture in on my own.
    "Darcy?"
    Nothing. Typical. I'd have to coax her...

Third Person Limited

First Day

    The unintelligibly deafening murmur of voices washed over her like an ocean wave breaking on the shore, and she halted tentatively in the doorway. There were already a number of other students in the room—fifteen, maybe?—and they were obviously familiar with each other.
    No one acknowledged her presence, which made her position all the more awkward. Feeling the discomfort rising to her throat, she took another hesitant step forward. Her hands had grown damp against the pile of notebooks and textbooks she held tightly against her chest, and now her cargo began to slip downward. Forcing herself not to hyperventilate, she glanced around the room in desperate search of an empty seat, hoping against hope that she’d manage to drop her things onto a desk and not the floor.
    There! No one had taken the far corner by the wall yet—thank goodness for that. She darted toward it, feeling her books inch lower with every step....

Cosmos

Shining stolen beams
Through the window
By night
With no care
That they are not its own—
The moon.

They glitter
Like tiny sequins
Sewn to the indigo sky
By the hundreds
Or thousands—
The stars.

A campfire
For the planets
Its blazing surface
Gives them life
And warmth—
The sun.

All of them different
Like us
And yet similar
In some ways
Fascinating—
The planets.

Wonderfully perfect
And terrifying
Bright colors
And swirling shapes
Incomprehensible—
The galaxies.

So gigantic
Couldn't possibly explain
How something
Could be that big
And beautiful—
The universe.

Talking to “You”

A Tree

    You stand tall and proud—taller than many of your smaller brethren, and yet you are proud to be one of them. Thick branches curl around you; they are evidence of the ages of time you have withstood. Each one is bejeweled with glittering emerald leaves, but while the color is pleasing you do not think much of them. You know they will wither and fall, and then grow anew, and wither again—just as they always have. It is a cycle you have experienced since you were a fluttering sapling with branches barely thick enough to support the sparrows that rested on them.
    Sparrows—you have always been fond of sparrows. Your own stillness, aside from when the wind chooses to dance among your kind, has led you to regard the small winged creatures with a great fondness. They sit and twitter in a harmony of senseless chirps that brings a happy glow to your existence, a glow...

Writing Small

Light

Void surrounds me, my entire existence. Black. Empty. Despair. A desolate universe.
Silence fills the nothingness, all hope for a future lost. I'm alone.
You're not alone! a musical voice laughs. Then, suddenly—
Light.
She holds a match. See? I'm here. And I have light.
Hardly true.
"You are light."

Zoom Out

Same Sunset

    Muscle memory.
    He's working from muscle memory, you can tell—he goes through the motions so smoothly, so fluidly, legs flying through the air in defiance of gravity. His eyes are closed, but somehow he still sees, leaping higher than should be humanly possible, slowly working his way around the empty field. Jeans and a plain T-shirt tell you nothing of who he is, what he's seen, what he knows.
    He is a mystery.
    This clearing where he practices is mysterious, too, resting forgotten in a lost corner of the place where his adventures began. It is overgrown now, bearing no trace of the hopeful rebels who once frequented it. Success has drawn them away from their humble beginnings, and the dilapidated remains of their training grounds and their homes have been left to crumble as they will. The city is free, and they have returned to it.
    And yet the one who freed it...

My Memory Lane

    Others see only the tumbling stones, the broken branches, the uncomfortable closeness of the crumbling walls on either side. Few come here now, for it is I—only I—who knows what this place truly is, and now no one else can ever learn—not the way I did.
    For this place is my Memory Lane and mine alone, my book of golden summer days spent skidding up and down the cobblestone path, my laughter like the trickle of the brook that I always knew ran alongside me on the other side of the wall. It may have been long years ago, but I will not forget—not I, the only one left now of all the children who once played under the green-clad branches that today lie fallen and bare on the ground. Some have wondered that it does not pain me to come here now and see the broken remnants of my childhood falling into decay, but I only smile and...

Song of the Empty Page

I am no songwriter,
no musician
Don't know much about music
in general, to tell the truth

But
I have heard a song

And the song,
in its silence
spoke to my soul, and then
buried itself there

It is a melody
that stole my heart away,
never to return it
Or so I hope

A soundless song

It captured me
in its spell,
its noiseless enchantment,
and held me there

It was beautiful

I can never forget it,
not that I want to
I hope it stays with me
all the days of my life

It was the first to draw me
to the inevitable—
pencil, forming letters
keys, forming words

It was the song of the empty page,
Calling

Cosmos

Shining stolen beams
Through the window
By night
With no care
That they are not its own
The moon.

They glitter
Like tiny sequins
Sewn to the indigo sky
By the hundreds
Or thousands
The stars.

A campfire
For the planets
Its blazing surface
Gives them life
And warmth
The sun.

All of them different
Like us
And yet similar
In some ways
Fascinating
The planets.

Wonderfully perfect
And terrifying
Bright colors
And swirling shapes
Incomprehensible
The galaxies.

So gigantic
Couldn't possibly explain
How something
Could be that big
And beautiful
The universe.

Truths and Untruths

Ten Wishes—A Poem

I wish for more wishes—
Nope, scratch that,
Decisions are hard enough as it is,
I wish for a wish to come true.

I wish to be a fountain of similes
And metaphors as fresh as the first winter snow.
They're wonderful that way,
Like a juicy watermelon.

I wish to be inspired
By little things, and frequently.
It would make writing so simple—
Take that, Procrastination.

On to more fantastical things:
I wish I could fly.
Forget gravity! What freedom!
First wish, take note.

I wish I could stop time,
Maybe once a day.
Just for a little while—five or ten minutes,
To simply be and simply breathe.

I wish wishes were easier to think of.
Honestly, how hard is this?
Harder than I thought,
Apparently.

I wish waiting didn't have to take so long.
Especially when you're waiting
For something important,
Like a book release, or Christmas, or tomorrow.

I wish writing meant writing,
Not writing and rewriting...

The Winter

    The snowflakes fell gently, slowly. They were small, floating up and down on small currents of frigid breeze, as white as the sky was gray. The wind was just cold enough to bite, its dagger-sharp touch sending shivers down the back of a lonely figure trudging a ravine through the snow-covered road. Trees swayed to the left of the path, leafless branches cutting a sharp contrast against the colorless expanse of forbidding sky above and the empty ocean of stark white to the right of the road.
    A whistling howl of wind tore through the shadowed forest, startlingly shrill. With it came several eddies of white that swept past the ankles of the hunched figure on the road, along with a small maelstrom of snowflakes that beat against the back of the intruder who dared brave the elements alone in such conditions.
    A long, dark cloak did little to shield its owner from the unforgiving wind....

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26 Likes from Others

American Sentence

Liked by 1 person

We breathe the same air

Liked by 1 person

We breathe the same air

Liked by 1 person

Cosmos

Liked by 2 people

Tacitagrim

Liked by 2 people

Little Candle

Liked by 2 people

El Bilir Ki

Liked by 2 people

A Possibility

Liked by 6 people

The Land of Fire

Liked by 2 people

It Is My First Home

Liked by 2 people

I Do Not Know Much About You

Liked by 3 people

Light

Liked by 9 people

In January

Liked by 1 person

A City

Liked by 2 people

Same Sunset

Liked by 4 people

Negotiations

Liked by 2 people

The Winter

Liked by 1 person

The Star

Liked by 1 person

A Tree

Liked by 1 person

First Day

Liked by 2 people

Me, on the page

Liked by 4 people

Ten Wishes—A Poem

Liked by 4 people

Cosmos

Liked by 2 people

Song of the Empty Page

Liked by 1 person

My Memory Lane

Liked by 1 person

Cosmos

Liked by 1 person

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