Newest Deviations
RuptureMy memories linger like scars on my soul. My heart, it bleeds from bonds now broken. I fall on my knees and weep for hours, Remembering all the lies you've spoken.Rupture
I would give anything to be with you again, To touch your skin and see your face, To look into your liquid eyes And remember every time and place That I was with you. I see it now, Memories all bittersweet. I weep to recall The moments, replated in my mind, So sweet, so perfect, before the fall.
Bound to you my love's strong weaving, Cords so thick 'tween my heart and y
by ~AnonAtlantis
The BearThe lumbering bear Noble, wise, and wild With freedom engrained from birth Once fearless, He now stands, Face against the bars which bind him, Liquid eyes cast low Shoulders drooped, brown fur unkempt, He longs for sun and sky and boundless earth to roam a freedom not even imagined in his youth For years imprisoned, Bound in steel and concrete walls By many masters, all unseen Mocked and jeered and chided so Heart chained down, soul burning low.The Bear
A key turns-- &n
by ~AnonAtlantis
My Own "Song of Solomon"What is my beloved, above all men? His hair is as incense, burnt finely with flame; In his eyes are the heavens, starts swirling within, Where all darkness flees as Orion takes aim.My Own "Song of Solomon"
My beloved is patient as stone in a stream; His lips are more sweet than the finest of wines; His voice is more calming than the most temperate seas; His hands are as silk, though tested by time.
This my beloved, my brother, my friend, The best of ten-thousand, beginning and end, Bright as the moon and warm as the sun, He, my heart's keeper, my garden, my One.
by ~AnonAtlantis
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~J
--
"Leave them a flower, some grass and a hedgerow
A hill and a valley, a view to the sea
These things are not yours to destroy as you want to
A gift given once for eternity"
I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I want to go back to bed, frankly. But I have class in 40 minutes or so, and the mess deck is open in three minutes. As for being tired, there isn't really a solution...seeing as the coffee at the school tastes like a cross between burnt wood and battery acid. So it's tea again for me.
I haven't written any new poetry in a while -- just haven't had the time. But I love it, and I brought my notebook of poetry to school in case I got the urge. No sign of said urge yet.
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