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What is PoetryIs poetry writing out a sentence and
separating it into different lines with
some vague thoughts to
stanzas and some consideration to rhyme?
Is having some emotional advocative message what
we consider to be the key in
what determines if it's garbage
or whether it's true poetry?
Arabesque Cold earth, dripping grass, illuminates the breath. White against black...white against black and
is gone. The blackened sky, ravenous, engulfs everything. No wind to distract, no winged calls
made and answered, no feelings to penetrate the skin. Stillness in peace that only the stars violate
with feverish dances. Amidst it all, they sit, fingers entangled, lips frozen to the words that stir within.
The warmth of romance
PavaneFog tiptoes across the water's face
Trees bow solemn, holding their breath
While the lake shivers, lonely
Waking, I see her form
Waltzing, twirling down
The banks where she
Once and still
The End-December 20, 2012-
Death travels lightly through the spaces between galaxies. He stops off briefly at a few stars and leaves bursts of misty lingering light in his wake. Normally he would stay a bit and watch the halo of the supernova expand before moving on, but tonight he has somewhere to be.
Tonight, Death dodges the planets and the meteors and weaves in and out of the space debris until he comes to a small blue planet. He takes it in his hand and cradles the little thing, letting the white wisps swirl around the sphere, gathering and thickening.
Such a young thing; younger by eons and eons than so many others. As always, Death feels sorry for the young ones who will never come to know understand what they could have been. He stands still feeling the planet pulse in his hands. He feels the hum of the earth, the undulations of the waters and most of all, he hears the ceaseless buzz of the inhabitants. Within the din of chirps, bleats, honks, roars and snorts, he can pick out
I would make you immortalI would make you immortal, my dear
I’d lace your morning tea
With crystallized droplets of
My life’s breath, and make it sweet
I would have you drink the cup,
Our only wedding vow
For us to be forever,
Nothing left to part us now
I would, for you, my dear
Break the oldest most sacred command
I would have you for myself,
Never to fear jealousy by Death’s hand
I would, my love, I would
But you would lose so much, I fear
Much more than I have to gain
And I’d never take away your smile, my dear
Even if it means I must one day share it with Death
Numbers7 was no ordinary number. He was born with a purpose. He, and not any one else had been chosen. As he lay on the clean white floor just moments after his birth, he knew that he would one day amount to something great.
7 looked around and saw that he was alone. "I wish there was someone else to share this great wide whiteness with.." As if on cue, another number appeared before him, fresh and new. "Who are you?" 7 asked.
The new number looked up at him and answered with a giggle, "Silly 7, can't you see? I'm 9!"
"Oh! 9! Right " said 7, feeling a warm and fuzzy, "We're awfully close, aren't we?"
9 giggled some more. "Yes, we are," she snuggled up closer to him. "We're meant to be, don't you think? You and me? 7 and 9 together?"
"Yeah!" said 7, "You and me. We'd be 79!"
"No, silly!" 9 laughed, "I don't mean together like that! I mean...you and me, I was thinking we could .multiply "
7 smiled giddily, "That would be nice "
"Well, you can count me in!" said another voice
Situations"Then tell me, hon. What is normal?" She said softly, letting her fingertips slide gently along the curve of his thumb.
He swallow hard, enough to feel a catch in his throat. His right hand was frozen stiff under hers and his eyes were caught by the lustrous coral red of the lipstick on her lips. He thought he knew the answer but for the life of him, he could not remember what it was.
He caught her hand as she was about to run and pulled her back to him.
She turned around to face him and looked at him inquisitively.
"I believe in you." he told her firmly, sincerity in his expression.
She gave him a quick smile, her trademark mocking leer. "Your belief ain't enough to get us out of this mess." she answered before turning again and rushing into the gunfire.
"Big puppy!" the toddler babbled in his mother's arms as they strolled by the fenced in pastures.
"No, honey. Those are sheep." the mother told him.
"Big puppy! Look!" the boy insisted gesturing in the
Do you even knowLuke yanked the blow dryer away from the girl. She had been holding it muzzle pointed straight at her face, both hands on the handle, looking quite dangerous.
"Do you even know how to use this thing?" he scowled and said partly with mild irritation, part tauntingly.
She stared up at him with huge unearthly eyes just as when he had found her in the middle of the light beam surrounded by headlight orbs in the sky.
He no longer found her threatening and felt like a good Samaritan for caring for her like a lost kitten. She didn't speak his tongue and he hoped to teach her how.
"Here, I'll help you," he said as he searched for the on switch. He flicked on the knobbed black switch and a jet of piercing blue-white light shot from the end of the muzzle. A hole that extended into the adjacent bedroom now graced the spot where his diploma had hung in his living room.
She took the machine gingerly from his shaking hands and switched it off. She looked at him with a look of pity and almost sadisti
A Fairytale AgainA Fairy Tale of a Gold Basin
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, there lived a witch locked in a tower. For the longest time, she waited. She waited until her long black hair became dusty until her clothes became moth-eaten. For a long long time, she waited.
You see, the witch did not always live in the tower. Once she lived in the town amongst the civilians. People paid her for her cures and charms and she was quite content.
The mayor of the town did not like her at all. He hated witches, he hated their magic and their potions, claiming that doctors and scientists could do far better. Most of all, he hated the fact that she was prettier than his own daughter and that his daughter's betrothed was completely taken by her.
The witch loved the young man and though they courted in secret, she came to trust him.
One day the mayor went to the young man and asked him with a heavy sigh, "Do you really prefer that witch to my lovely daughter?"
The young man was a bit vain by nature and he d
TracksWhen I was a child, my mother took me to see the frozen carcass of a wolf hit in the winter. The train had cut the animal clean in half - it’s forelegs and head lay on one side of the tracks, it’s hindquarters on the other. It was petrified in time and perfectly preserved by ice, its mouth still curved into a startled snarl. Those tracks had scared me ever since. But they didn’t scare you. I don’t think anything did.
You held out your hand, bare feet on wooden planks and metal. Drunk on Birthday Cake Vodka (stolen from your sister), we’d tumbled into the forest in nothing but our bikinis and wandered to the tracks. You laughed and said you’d done it a thousand times, promised I’d love it.
I took your hand hesitantly. My palms were cold and sweaty - a fact which always made me self-conscious. You didn’t seem to notice as you tugged me down the twisting path. The rocks between planks stung as they poked into my feet and the metal was icy co
ConnectionsI rifle through the vinyls, letting my touch linger on each one before moving on. They all feel cold and lifeless, inhuman and unfeeling. I can sense a faint call in the base of my brain, a plea for companionship. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, trying to pinpoint where it's coming from. My hand hovers over the bin to my right before I reach in, my movements cautious. My fingers glide against a cover, and this one feels different than the others. I pull it out, sliding the case off and turning the record in my hands. It's old, and I can see the lines where its previous owner placed the needle. Some parts are denser than others where the song was played hundreds of times.
The cashier looks at me strangely when I bring it to the front, no doubt wondering why I didn't get any of the vintage, mint condition, collectible records. She asks whether I want a bag and I decline, opting to carry the vinyl close to my heart as I walk home. The sky above is grey, and I can smell an oncoming
Meal: Six (6) Maine red lobster tails
One (1) bowl of black caviar
One (1) glass of Chardonnay
One (1) scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, topped with dark chocolate ganache and a Maraschino cherry.
Comments: Garbage. I always knew rich people were full of shit.
Meal: One (1) pepperoni pizza from Little Caesar’s.
One (1) waffle cone, chocolate
Meal: One (1) bottle of Clear American, Fuji Apple flavor
Two (2) Payday candy bars.
Meal: Two (2) fried chicken legs
One (1) bowl of mashed potatoes, brown gravy
One (1) bowl of creamed corn
One (1) glass of milk
One (1) slice of peach pie
Comments: Just like Mom used to make.
Meal: One (1) bowl of tomato soup
One (1) grilled cheese
One (1) serving of spaghetti squash
One (1) Jello vanilla pudding
Meal: One (1) bowl of spaghetti
Two (2) Olive Garden breadsticks
One (1) bag of buttered popcorn, dusted with
America X Reader Emergency First Aid KitAmerica X Reader Emergency First Aid Kit
“Alright, let’s get the emergency travel kit ready”
“Do we really need it?”
“Yes we do, now let’s go through the check list”
“Fine, I’m ready”
“Alright, band aids?”
“Do we really need that?”
“Yes, now do we have it?”
“…Alfred, why are condoms on the list?”
“Cause we’ll need ‘em”
“No we won’t”
“If not then what are we supposed to do?”
“Sight see, maybe visit a few historical places”
“But I want to have sex”
“No condoms, No sex”
“What was that!?”
Hetalia x reader Prologue
The schoolbell rang throught the hallways of your school and all the doors flew open. That means one thing: A schoolday was finally over. As the doors opened everyone walked outside. Some were running happily and some were taking it slowly, including you. You walked out with your schoolbag around your shoulder and sighed in relief. You were glad that it was finally, because for you it was really boring and you couldn't wait to read some Hetalia fanfiction on your laptop. You waved your best friend goodbye with a smile and walked away with a tired smile.
You walked inside with tired (e/c) eyes and a frown on your face. You leaned against the door, looked down at the floor and sighed. You never felt so tired after school.
"Are you okay, honey?" A voice said. You looked up and saw your mom in front of you with worried (e/c) eyes. She walked over to you and put a hand on your forehead. "Hmm. No fever. But you really don't look good." she said
breathing the deepPapa isn't coming home again tonight.
He said to me over the telephone that the road is too long, and that it takes too much time for him to get from his office to mommy's place.
Last week he'd said that the streets are too dark, and that there are some things that even grown-ups are scared of.
The week before that, he'd promised me and said that he was coming, yes, definitely, but then he never showed up at all.
But maybe next week he'll come.
Yes, next week.
Julia, you really should be going to sleep.
I know, mommy. I think I'll wait by the window for a little longer.
Just in case.
Hetalia x reader part 1
You don't know how long you both looked at each other, but it felt like forever for you. His eyes later softened and he smiled. He suddenly walked towards the bed and your heart started to beat faster as he came. You also started to blush as he stopped in front of you.
"It's good that you're awake, aru." he said as his smile widened. Your blush increased and you really want to hug him, but you couldn't because your head still hurts and you didn't want to surprise him.
"Who are you? What are you going to do with me?" you asked timidly. You knew who he was, but you didn't want him to know that you already know him from Hetalia and from your dreams. He frowned at you as he saw your fear in your (e/c) eyes.
"It's okay. Me and my friends don't want to hurt you, aru" he said softly. You knew that he and the others don't want to hurt you, but you thougt that they were the ones that kidnapped you. Your fear decreased a little and you nodded in under
Jolly Old Saint NIckAfter he had slashed open the millionth letter from some present grubbing child demanding a certain media fuelled toy, he snapped. The gears inside him must have given way because he seemed no different. He hoisted himself into the sled, and waded down every chimney just as always.
But then he saw the child gazing up at him, and he asked "Have you been good?"
"Lies," he drew out the huge inexhaustible bag of coals and let it drop on the child's head.
Suddenly he felt lighter. Nearly free. A smile stretched across his face.
Ho ho ho.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More