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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
Guiltywe sit in the pale half-light; summer dies around us. you reach over and pluck the cigarette from my fingers, inhale like it's the last time. and maybe it is.
the jury is out there somewhere, preparing to sleep on their choice. we both know that you may not come home tomorrow, but neither of us are willing to say it out loud.
smoke curls in the air between us; I pretend not to notice when your body begins to tremble. when you begin to cry, I tell myself you've rubbed ash into your eye.
ArminxBespectecled! ReaderHis ocean blue eyes stared at the girl, in un-withheld curiosity and admiration, from across the room. Her (E/C) shone bright and passionate like candles in the dead of night behind her large glasses, her (h/l) (h/c) swayed slightly as she sat down on the worn library couch, a heavy stack of books in her small and petite hand's. He couldn't help but find himself entranced by the way she gracefully set the dusty, leather bound books onto the oak wood table in front of her as if she's practiced it over and over. Her finger's, long and slender, nimbly maneuvered the books into neat piles before she chose one carefully to examine, a look of concentration gracing her face. She was beautiful. Armin honestly had no clue why so many people picked on her for having glasses.
The glasses only helped to add childish innocence to her features, highlighting her larg (e/c) eyes and making them pop and stand out as a large contrast with her (h/l) (h/c) locks. Her eyes where just gorgeous.
Peace RestoredIn the cities they were beginning to tally the cost of victory, gained at last after years of destructive struggle.
Surveyors were already appraising the mutilated buildings, Managers were directing the necessary demolition of building shells that remained precariously upright. Gangs of the brawnier survivors were using rubble to fill the pot-holes in the roads. Some of the labourers working had been drafted in,part of the first deployment of troops awaiting demobilisation now part of the Army Of Reconstruction.
From the city council down, everyone was eager to erase the evidence of a madness, a grotesque mutual insanity that had laid waste to the civilisation of a continent, spawning numberless tribes of orphans.
There were reunions. Grizzled men, who had been living on time borrowed at they knew not what rate of interest, were beginning to return, seeking information about the survivors of their clans and families .These men, who had played their part in the destruction of thei
In the ForestThe playground was a wasteland of daydreaming, drug dealing, and orgies. A club not even the cockroaches wanted access to, the place rapidly deteriorated into a shady circus with a freakshow for a cast.
The small, enslaved grounds, however, cradled a stark atmosphere accompanied by a mellow, rust-infused flavor. It was a hearth of solace for many, regardless of social rank or cliques. Boys with broken minds, girls with shattered hearts frequently sought out the playground for a moment of peace.
Tethered to the forest and cloaked by the embrace of oaks, the wasteland whistled, lonely but not yet forgotten.
the sky's soothsayer.“the stars are the souls of our fallen ancestries,”
my youngest sister would insist.
“look,” she pointed with her gloved hand.
“it’s mumma and papa, floating up there in the sky!”
she giggled, falling to her knees with her gloved hand to the sky,
blue eyes bright and curtained by blond locks.
the timepiece upon my wrist was blue
with the nasty british weather and the bleeding
blue ink from my calligraphy pen.
i held in my hands my wanderings of the sky, all recorded in a single notebook.
“what a waste,” i mumbled, a shiver rolling down my spine. “such violent weather,”
i coughed into my handkerchief and tried to assess the stars once again.
my mouth twisted into a scowl as my vision was obstructed
by the tongues of blackened clouds,
angry and full of disgust.
it was growing awfully late and
it didn’t seem the sky was going to clear anytime soon.
march was the month, so the rains were expected,
but i su
...:::Valentine Problems:::...It was the day before Valentine’s day when a pink hedgehog had to look everywhere for someone she had loved ever since they were little. Her shoulder-length hair carried by the wind every time she ran, her emerald eyes sparkle when she thought that she found him and would gloom when it was not him. She sighed in defeat as she slumped down on the bench she found in the park. It wasn’t fair! It’s almost Valentine’s day, she need to find where he is! She, Amy Rose, couldn’t fail!
For the past years together with the gang, she wanted this Valentines to be special, no matter what consequences are there. Everything is set, all she need is her soon-to-be Valentine.
“Oh! Sonic!” She groaned desperately. “Why must you always run away from me! I finally changed okay?! I’m not the pro fan girl you always thought I am.”
She stand up again and absently wipe her dress. About her dress, it’s finally the one that the hem wasn’t wi
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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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More