|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Roses seem to be redRoses seem to be red,
While violets are blue,
And sugar is surely sweet.
Yet not as delectable as you.
No, no, no, let me start over.
Roses seem to be like twirling petals on this glorious day,
While violets just are my favorite shade of color.
And sugar tastes as delicious as that cake you baked just for me.
But not as sweet as th
353 days, 8495 hours, 509808 minutesTo a future that holds no dates.
For a countdown that has no end.
Oh woe, what comes from the place where there is no color?
When the world swirls the sky of grey and white.
Yes, I believe there was once a way to distinguish what day was which.
And now there is just nothing but a blur of color.
Of love, of passion, and of hopes.
Where dreams come true, yet a place where pain still has its time and place.
Has a date on the wall, in the heart, in the engraved scars.
Be blinded - I am blindedI found a funny poem and I thought I would let you know, I spoke quickly interrupting his attention…
A chuckle rose from my lips, his stare turning to wait patiently for the joke.
“I just want someone who will open their arms… for me to run into and hold me,”
A pause to break up the sentence of this poem,
“While I cry and will do anything… to climb my walls, no matter what it takes.”
A twitch of his lips breaks the barriers and suddenly I see that sm
Countdown to fineSomehow today I said that I was okay,
That I was fine.
I told of how I was happy… somehow it was not lie.
But now as I turn my head into your pillow, I press my face firmly into your sheets.
Angels markArms rose up to the burning sky.
Orange mixed with yellow sprayed out against the landscape above, untouched by human hands.
The light filtered down and warmed up every inch of my skin left exposed.
Though the sun was trying to hide behind its mountain friend, I knew that it would return.
There would be another day, another supposed glorious day.
Yet as my eyes focused closer to my fingertips, the blood dripped down like tiny rivers.
Why did there have to be another waking of the sun so high above?
The winds began to bustle past lifting up my skirt to meet it.
The ribbons that were worn and frayed seemed to suddenly have life once more;
Although I myself did not feel the same.
How could I, when all I could see for miles around was nothing but the grass? No life insight.
My strength faded as soon as the wind seemed too die, my knees rattled under the skirt.
That rattling turned to fear and I collapsed for none to see.
Hands outstretched it took the impact.
Heat seemed to rise up through
In case I dieIt is with a heavy heart that I read this to all of you,
(Yes, such a heavy heart)
Here lies a girl that turned to women, before life decided to steal it all away.
With tears I am sure that you have all cried or will continue too,
She leaves this world without a thought of you.
Or at least without a thoughtful one.
Now as I speak these words do take it however you may,
“Yes family, it is with great condolences that I have left you all of the material world.
I was just too damned impulsive.
I wasn’t the perfect little angel.
I did what I wanted and let the hurt, stop hurting me.
I raced the knife you wrough
Never askedIt’s r u n n i n g , it’s burning
… it’s ecstasy.
and it’s hot.
I tremble violently as I feel the rage sets in place.
It is nameless but it needs not have one this night.
I slip my hips to the side, the fire only racing up inside of me.
It’s mindless and I let it blind my eyes to the world outside my window.
The phone from my hand slips through my fingertips, it bounces to the floor below.
Not a care in the world, I could be whatever I need to be.
I am the changer; I feel every inch of my flesh burn as the blood pushes through my veins.
My thoughts turn to muddled words,
than to nothing but intense emotions that holds faces.
I sense the creeping smirk that seems to escape my mask of a face.
I snap my head to the side and let my anger control me. First it starts with the arms.
They rise slowly above my head, first trailing up my waist to my chest.
Snapping down they fin
Silence, heard but seeingThere is something to be said about keeping silent.
Watching the world through your heart, not your mind.
Hearing the words but feeling the sensations.
Aching, yet being blocked by obstacles.
I reach out with a trembled hand, the world floating just in sight.
(Is it really the world, or just another possibility already calculated for me?)
And I still keep my arm raised, even as the numbness sets in.
I am master less, in a world of past and present.
Strings that helped wrap around me are tattered and torn by the bedside.
A candle flickers trying not to be snuffed out by my breathes.
Desperately and impulsive, I find myself curling up inside my world, inside myself.
Maybe if I hold out a little longer, they’ll return;
Those voices that do not give comfort.
Yet without them I fear the silence, the stares I know they would make.
(Not soulless, just ruthless)…
The hours pass as I can feel my tension and anticipation rise,
The willpower to take that void and wrap my own strings.
NoISeThere is something to be said about living the life as a human.
A constant power struggle from within, and out.
Where the unreachable moments are within your fingers…
While Logic and Physics are
no where to be seen.
Taking Impulse by the hand, human life is even harder.
Grasping like children at the image and thought, of memories past and present.
There was once a guide in how to live as humans, but you took that took…
Your kind took that book and tossed it aside for the centuries, the decades.
Now there is no way to find a proper way to take each day in, and each day out.
In while the waves are crashing.
Out while my last breath settles in.
Sorry, Father I cannot keep up this façade much longer.
Already I fell. I will not do it again as your child.
But I do not know what more I can do,
do or say, would you have of me?
As they would say, give me a sign. A sign of affection… or affliction.
Either would do at this point, as I let this mortal mask fade.
There is something to be
hyenas make the best lovers.i need to stop looking
for death in every body
my fingers touch.
i have been force fed
old lovers, & slices
of the moons lying dust
i am messy poems;
i am fractured confessions.
i am laughter
my jaws ache
with the taste of
i am still hungry.
give me your sugar;
I will share my breath.
you are still made of starstuff,
& i am no longer caged.
PretendingYou, full and complete you, you have become my strength and my talisman for all times...
You, and again you, you let I wrecked just in you…
You, my madness is you, you tie me to your body and do not let me go...
You, inside me, between every atom, between every cell you live among...
I say all the time: fear not, there are songs that will never know who sings...
Those kisses never know who prints them on your lovely lips...
You nail down your dreamy eyes and tenderly ask me: Are you crying?
No, I answer. Dried my eyes are... to the bottom you can look into them.
If you get lost, breathe me and you will find you.
The truth is that I beg you to remember that this that born in my mouth, this awakening in my eyes, will sleep latency in your soul.
Undoubtedly you will become the most beautiful and sad fisherwoman of Stars.
I'm hiding my will to live, of my desire to live for you.
Maybe I can lose myself in the eyes of the person asking for a miracle, but it is certain that, I want to
StockholmBut my heart beats for you alone
You are not
You are ever watchful
Hoping for devotion
My wandering heart
Beating for you
Puppet String SymphonyHere come the snares,
wrenching at my heart;
like my tongue can’t find the words to say.
I've been resurrecting your skeletons,
just to place broken flesh over it and watch it all decay…
…scratching at freshly picked scars and rose petals,
while digging up old habits and hatchets;
just so I can whistle a tune so tragic.
Here comes the wind,
stomping at my lungs;
like my emotions are gasping to be released.
I've been coughing up your cover-ups,
just to place my index finger over it and watch it all cease…
…living in this darkness, sulfur-tipped match tossed in the breeze,
while thinking it’s just not worth the candle;
just so I can hum a song you can’t handle.
Here come the keys,
playing at my mind;
like all eighty-eight demons and angels serving one star.
I've been worshipping my self-inflicted headache,
two times twelve and that’s how many bars…
…I've got to show you the color I feel.
When the puppet string symphony beg
My SunlightYou are my sun,
My only light,
As you fade,
The moon is there,
A memory of you,
Of the darkness,
Before your dawn.
You are the breeze,
That kisses my face,
Those tender lips,
That rushing embrace.
You are the grass,
Beneath my feet,
You hide my tears,
You support my weight.
You are the last,
One for me,
There was many before,
But they were never the same.
With you its right,
With you its love,
And if tonight,
I come above.
I'll see your glory,
From the moon,
From the memory,
Of this afternoon.
HowlHe’s a dancer in the dark
With unearthly rhythm
She’s the moon he left to sleep
In a sky without her stars
Like a poem led by lust
In a world of not to happen
Like a symphony of phoenix flights
On a December night
Singing for the ones they laid to rest
On their holy ground
Without an Earth
He’s the wolf
Howling with regrets
In a world of his own madness
She’s the moon
Without a sky to hold her high
In the night
Like the odds are not in favor
Like the sun that conquers
And the moon on someone else's sky
Like the legends we used to fear
Children by the fire’s flames
We used to be believers
In a world without its hope
Dream, boy, dream of wonder
In a world without sparkle
Like stormy days
In a September goodbye story
Of sleepless nights and awaken dreamers
Stars that pierce the sky
Are just children of regrets
Of a love that never happened
But always echoed in the night
The GlowThe Glow
Dictated by Puabi
What brings a glow of fire
To a single woman's eyes?
What curves her red lips
Into a joyful smile?
The promise, the delivery,
The receipt of love.
When she was waiting
Such a long while,
And it comes to her heart
In her surprise.
Imagine, when it comes
To a woman like me,
The brightness of the glow
In her eyes.
About ArtA sweet poem,
All but a
For the true art called
For Your Eyes Only...For your eyes only, I bare my soul.
For your eyes only, I bare my heart.
For your eyes only, I bare my body.
For your eyes only, I bare my mind.
For your eyes only.
For your ears only, I share my dreams.
For your ears only, I share my fears.
For your ears only, I share my sorrow.
For your ears only, I share my joy.
For your ears only.
For your heart only, I give my love.
For your heart only, I give my strength.
For your heart only, I give my passion.
For your heart only, I give my life.
For your heart only.
All of these and more...
are for you--only for you.
The begining, the moveMy hand began to move, telling its tale, weaving it through your hair.
A twitch and I paused to linger just beside your neck.
Your breaths were deep and calm, as if you were dead asleep.
"A dead man walking", as you once would have called yourself, yet here you lay.
Completely and utterly alive…
…despite your Dearest Agony's best efforts.
I could remember when all seemed hopeless, when we were not as one.
As I closed my eyes, I shivered as it suddenly came before my eyes.
Bound by chains both, our arms grasping towards the other across the floor.
Growls they echoed against the walls the nightmares were coming.
Your Dearest Agony snickered in the darkness, her arms snaking about your waist.
I hissed but felt my misery grasp my neck and force me down upon one knee.
Like animals we tried to escape, to be free.
The fire in your eyes had dimmed, burnt out like the greyed sky behind our bars.
They had been the color of shadows since before I had entered your cell.
With a shaky hal
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
Keep in Touch!
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