Mirth in Solemn ReminiscenceThis dear heart knows no boundaries, my love -
Let us pray that the night will be our guide,
a solace I sought, granted, from above.
Let nothing stop us – spread your wings, my dove,
and follow the gentle wind breathing its stride;
this dear heart knows no boundaries, my love.
A loud tempest strikes! Wraps in a cold glove
a chance for ascension, spread far and wide:
A solace I sought, granted, from above.
Therein, you found, the mirth you had dreamt of;
a smile on your face – purity deified –
This dear heart knows no boundaries, my love.
Thus must I leave now; a sadness I shove
aside, for this void is where I reside
this dear heart knows no boundaries, my love.
I plant the rose on your grave, made thereof
from our dreams together, for you I cried:
“this dear heart knows no boundaries, my love -
a solace I sought, granted, from above.”
Let Me Absorb Your RageWho but I will feel your wrath?
I'm all you've got, its simple math.
Who but I can absorb your rage,
when gesture and tone belie your age?
With piercing scream and woeful wail,
true old classics when young words fail.
Frustration waiting to be freed and spent,
my gorgeous volcano, trying to vent.
Pink and purple anger now run its course.
No my darling, you can not have a horse.
Let me dry your tears, do you need to wee?
Would you like a juice box with morning tea?
59. No Way OutImagine your artistic mind is a house, but instead of rooms the door you find can lead you into entire worlds of your own. Imagination, creativity and motivation used to buzz around entire floors, filling the house with life, darting from one place to another while playing catch. Ideas just to come and go, sometimes staying for hours, sometimes just walking by.
But this time, something is off. It's hard to realise at first, but the usually ever presents sounds have died down, replaced by an increasing, eerie silence. No idea is showing up and all the rooms are deserted. Imagination and Creativity are nowhere to be found, no matter how often you call out for them. There is only silence. Some of the rooms are locked and the worlds behind those which aren't, are also empty and silenced. All the beings who used to inhabit them are either gone or lying motionless on the ground. Slowly the colours fade away, until only grey shades are left behind.
In search for a reason, for a cause, or simp
Negativite Emotions are Positive Here -- ContestFor a while now, I've been thinking about holding my own writing contest after participating in so many. I'm really excited that I've finally decided to go for it and see what happens!
The theme is negativity. Interpret at will.
( Literally, logically, metaphorically... you're only limited to your imagination. Just remember: weird doesn't equal good.)
Here are some guidelines:
Every person is allowed a maximum of two entries.
Your entry must be either prose or poetry.
There isn't a word limit, but please don't write a book.
You must note me with your entry so that I can receive it without complications. Please also link this journal in the deviation description to spread the word.
Your entry must have been submitted between March 10 and April 15. I would prefer your entry to be a new deviation.
Prizes (because that's what we're all here for, right?)
1st place wi
A Photographic Dream The faded black and white photograph sits idly on the vanity. My exact likeness stares out at me from within the flowered frame. We stare at each other, admiring the intricate feature we share. She seems to understand how lucky I was to inherit such beauty from her, the ideal embodiment of femininity. A sort of arrogance glints in her eyes; her plump lips seem to smirk. Her creamy, alabaster skin glows with confident. She is aloof, to say the least. I know everything about this woman, my grandmother, as well as myself, by this photograph. I am the spitting image of her. I know that I am much more than my sorry excuse of a mother. I know that there is more to me than her. Because of my grandmother, I know that I come from more than a disrespected, cheap drunk. This photograph of my grandmother shows me everything that I could ever be.
One day, I know I will leave this place I am forced to call home. I will abandon the lower-class without a second-glance the f
Daily Literature Deviations for February 15th 2014Guidelines | How to Suggest a DLD | Group Administrators | Affiliation | Chatroom | Current Staff Openings
Daily Lit Deviations for February 15th, 2014
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