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Natazzul
Avid reader and writer. Especially the Outlander series. Looking for a Jane Eyre fan? Look no further.
13 Posts • 17 Followers • 8 Following
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Natazzul
• 78 reads

Riot

Strum the lace that decorates the walls

spread the darkened words through and through

the phrases you hear coming to life

yell curses in the twilight

Plank by plank the building stands

years of sweat consumed in a sec’

garnered memories held in the hearth

flickered away by the petrol

Ivy décor wilts and moans

future laughs are further ignored

I seethe through the window

an unwelcomed guest thrust upon you.

Heed their words! Fear their cries!

I come to birth their ideas revived!

What was once lively I’ve come to demise

burnt threshold is a gift of mine

In the shadow of the night anger is fed

while freedom continues to be starved

I fuel their vocalizations into reality

as they fear the changing society

Rebuild what I’ve destroyed,

 water the knowledge I’ve unleashed

as I turn your suitcases into a ghoulish coal

as I blacken the bassinet of your dreams

return with the calmness needed by those who delivered me

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Challenge
Write the saddest sentence some one could say to you or you could say to some one....in only 5 words
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Natazzul
• 84 reads

Forgotten

I already forgot you, goodbye.

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Challenge
Use only six words to create a STORY inspired by the sunset or sunrise, dawn or dusk. #sixwordstory
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Natazzul in Micropoetry
• 106 reads

Last night

Pills throughout the night, sunrise denied. 

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Natazzul
• 88 reads

Cage

Feathered wings tied in string

seek shelter as a refugee

promise broken from the start

in the act of selfish hearts

from the cage it would take

poisoned words to escape

in the blood that you loathe

flows the same crimson in your soul

In the depth of the earth

A cradle holds an astray birth

Wings will fly from the cage

But find freedom as enslaved

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Natazzul
• 84 reads

Irises

You have wit, you have that gleam

that gleam in your eye that reminds me

of a daydream.

Your irises are a magician's act

one day I think I could describe them

green, gray, blue, I've never known in fact.

Nor does it matter what is the essence of their hue

what matters is what you see in me

and what I see in you.

My browns are muddy and opaque 

but an undeniable light fastens

with the caresses you leave in your wake.

My gaze looks for you, begs for your own

you're eager to please it 

to feed the hungry love we've grown.

Do not hide what I have found,

for the silent words translated in our gazes

have left me bound.

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Challenge
Write a piece of poetry or prose about losing your virginity. Winner will be judged not only on likes and comments, but on fire, form, and edge. The writer that kicks me in the teeth the hardest gets $200.
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Natazzul
• 152 reads

Bobby pins

I refuse to believe that "I lost" 

a negative connotation should not exist

for the long night that you held me

to thaw all the frost.

I lose plenty of things 

my bobby pins line up the streets

to leave me alone

as if they had wings.

The first time was not a regret,

 I gained so much more

 it was a precious moment 

 I'm unlikely to forget.

 The feeling of being held by a loved one 

 to love a body other than your own

 only to discover that previous uncertainty

 has diminished to none.

Tell me I have lost and I'll tell you I have gained

my innocence did not die away 

The gasps, the moans, the caresses 

are in my memory stained. 

If I lose my lover I will have gained 

the undeniable knowledge

that my body is power, 

not to be taken in vain. 

If I'm not shamed for losing my bobby pins

those objects that I lose so carelessly

then my first time should not be named

as one of my reckless sins.

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Natazzul
• 101 reads

Sapling

Shavings fall to the ground

the unkempt floor of your past endeavors

you start in the torso where emotions are found

these are the easiest to mold, fastest to sever

Slow and steady was your trade

day and night you worked over me

natural beauty interrupted by your blade

as you sought to control the sapling tree

Chisel the defects into perfection

but your pride overlooked the signs of abuse 

my skin carries the knots of my dejection

where branches reached before your misuse

Whittle out the pine as my sap seeps through

wiping these away to prevent stain

you promise a better life where I'm anew

an extension to your territorial domain

I trust your empty phrases

fooled into preferring a polish over my scaly skin

your blistered hands guiding my altering phases

my new shape a trophy to your sin

The sapling dies

uprooted from the earth

as a rigid immobile figure rises

your promises failed in my rebirth

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Natazzul
• 73 reads

Crystal

Your crystal palace

is now broken, dent and fractured

all of the facets could not withstand the malice

breaching the walls of a haven shattered.

Objects hit the roof demanding your attention

do you escape or mold the crystal palace?

These challenges do not seek your affection

tender heart could only become calloused. 

Haven struck, haven pained

malleability against harmful mechanisms is a talent

in these nights a lesson must be gained

to impose a safeguard against further lament.

Reflections cast were from other's eyes

leaving an empty shell in their wake

the whispers led to inner demise 

as the mirror only revealed a fake.

The good is okay, it reassures

the bad leaves you in shards of a broken structure

your eyesight is blinded from your treasure

these opinions are void, ignore the manufacturers. 

Rebuild anew for the remnants creak

a stronghold made to not be bent

cover the mirrors in velvet sheets

so outside voices can't make a dent.

A stone palace now remains

the walls echo as an image shines

Only one voice it contains

Mine.

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Natazzul
• 106 reads

Drop

Drop. Drop. Drop. 

I hear my siblings splatter against the ground

smeared with an aftertaste of deep release

against rooftops, against asphalt, against heavy

shoulders ridden with the stubbornness of regret,

against the feather light nature of a child's head

Drop. Drop. Drop.

Grapevines dangled with the mother's sweet fruit

now jeweled in clear precipitation waiting to be plucked

from the warm hands in tired hums

entrenched wrinkles carrying garnered memories

containing a scorching sun and meager wages

Drop. Drop. Drop.

I wonder if falling in these secret places 

will reveal the crevices of life unseen to those

whose hands bear no scars at all

the fall does not dictate where we land

whether in a beggar's cup or in a celebratory wine glass

Drop. Drop. Drop.

In the envy of the land our thudded presence silences

the creeping burrows of wavering malice

in those moments both gold and linen can sense 

the rush of our carelessness as we descend

we come knocking on marble and a tin roof

on the brow of a newborn and the cracked tombstone

our mercy is at bay with your matters

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Challenge
This is a form of writing called a triptych. It consists of 3 syllables per line, 3 lines per stanza and 6 or 9 stanzas per poem. Any subject. Have fun with it. *******If you are looking at this challenge at this point, please also look at some notes I published this morning under the title Triptych Challengers...it has some additional information I'd want you to be aware of. Thanks.*******
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Natazzul
• 116 reads

Fail to Forget

You say to

me, "let it 

go," but how?

If I am

hurt, I fail

to forget. 

Memory

thunders through

my faint head.

The hurt thrives,

there is lack

of "Sorry."

Wishing I

could yell and

hurt you too.

But I can't 

raise my voice

against you.

Tell others

I'm the bad

person here.

We both know 

why you are

mad, because

I forgave 

but failed

to forget.

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