Each month our admins picks their favorites from the gallery, and we put them in the featured folder for a month.
And here they are, the November selection!



:thumb318526876:              :thumb336688130:     GravityGravity,
Autumn wanted to learn
how to
fall.
So, the galaxy of dead trees
coiling in your lungs
devoured her spine.
Your gifts,
a lifeline wrapped around
her neck like a noose;
an orange and red
assisted suicide.
& you said "God bless your
heart." like some divine
higher power could forgive
her for loving you.
-dp        :thumb335527235:        

Mature Content

               :thumb333804640:    :thumb335101857:        :thumb256058576:        :thumb334994094:            :thumb335003116:                        :thumb333976322:    :thumb216132671:             What am I?What am I?
A pain in the chest.
A lump in the throat.
A dark cloud hanging above the head.
A irritation raising your anger.
A cry ready to come out,
but you can choose not to say a thing anyway.
What am I?
Something that can be ignored.
Yet I can make your conscience haunt you.
For your greed? Lust? Betrayal?
You don't say a thing just because your afraid of him.
Of not being forgiven.
What am I?   Supermassive Black HoleStrings of starless strands
lasso my sanity,
as a Lyzzard's tongue
slays unawares a fly.
Distorted snarls melt
my glaciers in the dead of night;
vibrating in the frequency
of tachycardia.
Falling upwards
in your wells of gravity,
you set my soul alight;
spinning towards the singularity.
A blink before the light,
the brims of Space
of satin waves
smile and unweave a word:
"What?"                                  :thumb273262771:       Shameful Confession of a 'Writer'Trees know no words.
Instead, they dance
With the wind, like ballerinas spin with pianos and violins in every chord.
Speaking sweetly with a flick of a foot, a sway of a branch,
And a quick little grin, while I trip on words.
I wish I can speak in tongues of daffodils during early spring.
The way each petal holds hope within its bloom, I wish to hold hope the same way;
Blooming its beauty with words, instead of blooming with May.
Sometimes, I'd get so sick of wishing to be a flower,
I'd start wishing I was rain.
I want to cry with the world and wash every window stained with hate.
But I only spill black inked words, and this is why I lose faith.
I know of words but my tongue is always singed
From when my mouth refuses to speak, so I just wish.
Shamefully, I wish to be as strong
As the silence of sea breezes,
The whispers of fallen leaves.
I wish to be as loud as time,
To speak as beautiful as the sun-dipped ocean,
And the shooting stars at night.
Sometimes, I wish, more than anything i        :thumb331827643:    :thumb333595825:  :thumb333638304:      :thumb334809367:          :thumb334553644:  :thumb333906025:  




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