Fields of Rhyme

From my knotty pine writing table
Where I always feel strong and able
I have built a world on typing paper
Where I rule mighty as any dictator

I’ve made a comfortable place of it
For all the pages make a very nice fit
Just the right size for each emotion
And now my life has less commotion

I have company hanging on every wall
People young old short fat and tall
Some funny some in love some whine
All are the brush strokes of my mind

I create interesting conversations
And fabricate all sorts of relations
Everyone does exactly as I deem -
Acting out my every written scene

I know each and every person by name
Know addresses and where they remain
I hear every breath - each spoken line
Without me they’ve no voice or design

I have built a world where I am safe
Where I’m boss so can be early or late
Look out the window - see what I want
Or just hang out - and be nonchalant

I’ve worked diligently near every day
Writing down everything I had to say
Planting many colorful fields of rhyme
And generally having a very good time

But as good as things are I must admit
Something is missing for a perfect fit
For what is a writer without readers
Or a prophet without true believers

So I invite you into my literary home
Invite you to visit and to freely roam
Thru the still crisp pages of my mind
I do hope you like what you find

Broken Puzzles

In a unforgiving
train of thought
I lay my head
to weep
upon my pillow
Which comforts me
on the horizons
of my mind
I put together
of broken pieces
and never realize
How many of them
are missing.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

contact me at: artjwca@yahoo.ca

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Saying the unsaid


Some moments pass

Some linger for a while longer

You aren’t sure what needs to be done

But your mind is a flurry of activity

You know how to speak

But the words seem to pause, break, unsure

You remember your Toronto English tutor

Reflecting on the disservice you’re doing them;

I know I’m better at this

Better at words.

Behold, there is only silence.

You sit comfortably,

And for a minute it seems quite alright,

Until you realize you don’t need a lyric

To tell you to say something.

Words, pause, more words

Tumbling to the table, on the floor


They look at you and frown at your mess.

“You are so clumsy!” they say

But you can do nothing but stare

Stare at the words, them, their soul

Wishing and longing

For the deep to call to the deep

Where words need no utterance,

Where a single look speaks fluently

Where everything is said

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Just For Fun

Like a star shining above

So you see the earth unlike others

A special insight into humanity

A breath of fresh air to poetry


Should a thought cross your path

Like a comet in the ether

You set it fully ablaze

With your fiery pen and pad

The Beast Inside...

The beast inside…

© 2017 SachikoMochiko " Sachi Ruaya


What’s worse than killing someone? Leaving them suffering alive. Now, whether or not they suffer is up to them…


Cracks…that’s how the light comes in.


You found that someone,

Who you deem; is the last piece of you

O’ but that one…that other one just "

How long will your grip hold?



It’s a dark feeling; jealousy

Where green, grey and black swirls weave your heart

Like steel, poison ivy 



As your blood curdles and boils,

your red-laced eyes eyeball

That one who touched your precious



Your precious gem that you admire from afar.

Your precious one, who births a hazy warm chest.

Your precious half…the other fading half of you.



But you refrain from killing

And instead of making arrangements to prey,

You keep that one alive  but suffering from your fangs


Your inner beast lurks inside,

already devoured half of you and yourself.

Its true form will not feast unless you do



Your fangs…its fangs bite, drawing thick, oozy blood

Of the one you hold captive in your prison

All for that one precious one, you shed blood



Your bite…your torture…your beast

Is a reflection of the steel, poison ivy

Is a being born from your selfishness…your jealousy



But you continue to feast even when you know

Know that this beast will soon consume your flesh, Bone-clean

Because pleasure will come from ones’ suffering



You are blinded by the beast; your scarlet eyes see no more,

the beauty of your precious gem…

BlurryVivid. Pitch-black.



You have lost sight of your intentions,

And your precious gem’s light is no more

Now, you know: You. Are. Devoured.



You sit there on the bottom of the beast’s stomach

Living with the pure darkness of your own

Alone. With your crackling, dry heart -unable to love



After all, you were just blind.

Destined to lurk in darkness.



Emptiness. Your skin slowly peels off from the dry darkness

Slowly…painfully, in this prison, the veil is ripped

Revealing something undeniably powerful





The bleeding wounds of which the skin is peeled

Thus, shunned the lies and unveils the truth

The truth of you embedded inside -within the beast


The light suppresses the dry darkness 

With your passion, memories, joy and love

You slice through the belly…striving for freedom once more!



Author’s Note: 


This is one of the small fragments to ready one of my upcoming masterpiece. I will write more poems like this (having the same motivational force). WORRY is next.


© 2017 SachikoMochiko

Author's Notes/Comments: 
This is one of the "practice" poems so I can produce a higher quality work for a special someone of mine:)

Gosh...my punctuation is bad. Just like any other poems I post here, it ain't finished. Still more reviewing to be done. But overall, I hope you enjoy XD


Jealousy, eh? Just a quick note, any poem I write is nearly always based off of my true feelings and recent events/emotions. 
"I thought it was good but felt it would be better if it was a story...it feels like your using a lot of words which is good but feel it would make an amazing story if it had a bit more body in it... not sure what type of criticism you wanted. I think you would be amazing at writing stories I’m not being negative I agree with what the person below said just think it’s more story like xx" - Simba
"Raw and honest.Outstanding imagery in words and visuals. I can picture you in my head, shouting these words at the person this story is intended for. My only little critique is that there are more than a few harsh words used that I would have replaced with something different. He's not returning your love but you can't force someone to do so. Other than that brilliant as always I look forward to the rest of the story " Thedeus Hobbs

"Her Glacier"

“Her Glacier” 


Laying down on the shattered glass

I breathe in the shards

Letting the seeping blood drip




The ripples resonate and echo,

On the disheartened, crying ice

Eyes… dropping… crystals

Covered my saddened heart

Who, I scream a silent, dry scream,

as if I am in space, underwater


To my weeping eyes, “I am sorry for the wasted tears.”

I whisper to the silence, with my vivid vision

The vivid vision blurred by the saltwater tears

Can only see the back of the person I loved

FADE…into the mist of tears


The ice that weeps with me, from my ripped feet,

Shatters as I am taken to the abyss…

The very abyss of my own heart


I, slowly taken down, down…as I struggle against,

Against the deathly, cold water

As the rose thorns grasp my feet…they take me

To pitch-dark black,


To the prison I made myself


Here at the ocean floor,

The place that is made out of my own tears

I wait…where the ashes remain

As I hope the pressure of the seven seas

Of my own heart, turns me into diamonds


The other part of me, who lives much above me

Where the snow punches your ragged skin,

In the heart of the land of fire and ice,

Awaits, in the concave of a glacier…


Aimlessly around the blue glass tsunami,

Breathing in the untainted, crisp cool air

Eyes floating aimlessly

Eyes twinkling endlessly


This slow walking giant, taking centuries for each step

Covers the land with its azure ice like a blanket

Treading on the works of any weathering

Glitters with streaks of endless blue…



O’ the beauty of the blue streaks!

Each a different shade,

Describes the indescribable

His exquisite beauty,


Walls as waves and ripples

Of water that has been frozen in time

Forms those very streaks!

Sapphire, Tiffany, Sky, Zaffre, Royal, Navy, Azure and Midnight blue

In bliss…all dancing merrily in this very cave

…an ultimate Eternal Dance


She, white light, origin of the viva Earth

Smiles through His crystal

Giving colour and light to His life

Givin’ His form…the Blue Crystal Tsunami.


Romance, like lovers, waltzing

even if one of them…will not make it ‘till the end

even if one of them…is slowly killing the other

She, who gives beauty to the giant

I, who lives way below them,

cannot compete…


A warm-blooded creature of the land…

It, who decides to wander inside…

runs Its hands on the mosaic of blue

To It, the ice seems to glide

As the twinkling light of the crystal cave winks…

Picturing the two together…


Below the glacier " inside the very cave- lays a beach


O’ the beach of his tears…when he weeps with me

Slowly melting away


Either way,

His blue is much apart from mine,

Sleeplessly, I lay down on the shattered glass

Endlessly, breathing in the stabbing shards

As I accept my fate…way below Him


Him.” “Blue Glass Tsunami” = Vatnajökull glacier cave, Iceland

The Land of Fire and Ice” = Iceland. Iceland is known to have volcanoes next to glaciers.

White light, Origin of the viva Earth” “She” = Sun

Beach of his tears” = A ‘beach’ located in the cave itself. The sand is made out of ‘crystal’.

A warm-blooded creature of the land” = A person. Human

Pictures them together” = Takes a picture of the cave with a camera

Even if one of them…is slowly killing the other” = The sun is melting the ice

I” = A landform that sunk to the bottom of the sea, just below the cave. (i.e. ‘the third wheel’)











         “…and here I wait. For her glacier. Who I knew will never come”

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"Normally I'm all about the sensory imagery and using a wide vocabulary, and I know that poetry tends to be much more elaborate than prose, but I feel like the emotions and symbolism you are trying to convey are being lost behind all the extra words you're squeezing in. A lot of the words you've chosen come across as either redundant or misplaced, and that gets a little distracting for your reader(s). As you keep working on this piece, consider whether some of your word choices could be pared back, simplified, or eliminated all together. That will help emphasize the meanings you are trying to express.
Also take some time to consider the purpose of your punctuation. I know that ellipses seem like a nice, dramatic way to emphasize specific phrases and images, but overusing them in this way makes the reader feel like they're constantly trying to catch their breath. Which, hey, could be the very point! Just a thought I had." - C.J. Holmes

Diner Food

The Pixie Dust

You watch me from every corner of the room.

Sink your teeth into me,

Drink all of my blood.

Bet I taste good.

You had your mind on me before you walked in the door.

Laugh with your dining parter about what Claude did at work.

Try to hide your flaws behind a cheap napkin

And sloppy grin.

Hit on the employees

But only after my blood is drained

Like a beast who broke through the chains,

Ready to pounce after being well fed.

Just another drunk guy with a friend

Back at the diner again.



(time and relative dimension in space)

By jfarrell


(inspired by dr who)


This is why I love free verse…

My life story, history, autobio…..

Goes on for  a billion pages…



In a poem

1 page, 4 stanzas

No rhyming couplets

But a rhythm that rocks your bones….

Kisses your soul

And dances the twist with your heart….




Not only can I describe what it felt like,

Back then,

I can whisk you away in my time machine

And you can feel it, experience it for yourself



If you’re familair with dr who…

You know to keep running away

Coz the daleks, cybermen and all horrible monsters

Running after you….

You look like their next dinner


I am the TARDIS.

A wordsmith.

But, still

A happily committed drunk!


Author's Notes/Comments: 

sorry, i used to absolutely love dr who

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Childhood bedtime stories

childhood memories reoccurs,

Mom reads stories that has been written by famous writers,

she sings lulaby songs to make us sleep,

Abraham lincoln,

martin luther king are indeed for hope

And she recites the poems of langston huges- Democracy, 

But I always misheard as Demo-crazy,

And she whispers to our sleeps;

One day you will have no one to tell the stories,

That make you to sleep to wake up brave tomorrow,

That day I cried and all you 

but Your father kept sleeping

another day you will cry 

and I Will keep sleeping,

and bed stories and your favourite -

langston huges.


But she an asian rural woman 

neither has a sense to all these

but she made

Fairy tales stories of

 to climb tallest trees for our food,

 fighting with the tiger in the bamboo jungle,

Sliped down from the high hill to the " by luck water"

And it is the all stories we hear from the others,

Mother was a big tree climber

Mother was mountain climber

Mother was by luck our food

My mother alive by luck

and we are lucky enough by luck.

I am still hearing her by luck stories

And she makes the authentic.

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