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Literature Text
Feet are numb and nose is cold
Cheeks are red and lips all cut
Yet hands join in this, so bold
Vow we made without a 'but'.
Grand it felt the moonlight's glint
On our skin so roughly stripped
Of its warmth and mundane hint
When we danced and often tripped.
Oh we ran and sure we fell
Ah we laughed at hearts' content
And we cried a bit as well
For it was both souls' intent.
And a song within your heart
A known voice inside my chest
Glorified it played its part
As a ghost with noble vest.
Yes we heard, long we sang
Free from heaven and from hell
Oh and here around it rang
But it all the trees will swell.
And the sweetest thing has been
Falling under senses' defeat
For our hearts had never seen
Such display of life and wit.
Then it was sunlight who lay
our bodies to their rest
For like this next time we may
start from here at our best.
Cheeks are red and lips all cut
Yet hands join in this, so bold
Vow we made without a 'but'.
Grand it felt the moonlight's glint
On our skin so roughly stripped
Of its warmth and mundane hint
When we danced and often tripped.
Oh we ran and sure we fell
Ah we laughed at hearts' content
And we cried a bit as well
For it was both souls' intent.
And a song within your heart
A known voice inside my chest
Glorified it played its part
As a ghost with noble vest.
Yes we heard, long we sang
Free from heaven and from hell
Oh and here around it rang
But it all the trees will swell.
And the sweetest thing has been
Falling under senses' defeat
For our hearts had never seen
Such display of life and wit.
Then it was sunlight who lay
our bodies to their rest
For like this next time we may
start from here at our best.
Literature
tunes of heartbreak.
someday, the world will be silent, and hearts will break.
it might be the hauntingly melodic
tunes of shattering glass, quietly
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
only to hover just before hitting the ground.
it might be the vibrations of over-stretched
heartstrings as they play out
the tune of heartbreak.
but sometimes, although unusual,
it might be the sound of
fallen souls chasing their dreams
as they shoot over the blackening
horizon.
but most definitely,
it's the sound of you
trembling frozen on my cracked lips
tipping precariously
back into the hollows, where
countless whispers of your name
twine together to form a single
break.
Literature
deciduous
VI.
Disorder; I don't believe in the word.
They run statistics and codes to bury,
to differentiatebetween the symptoms of medical conundrums
and psychological sobriety let undone,
sleeping on telephone-voice words
practiced to unwavering,distilled absolution –What I see's got nothing to do,nothing to do with any of you.I scavenged the ribs lining my body,
faltering under the weight of the discord
I engaged, and wondered if it was so terrible to stop.
Mother served me a meal to eat,
to devour, and I chose not to.I recall; it was 2004.V.
I possessed little to be proud of, nothing to be proud for
as I gave into the idea that the
Literature
71. Obsession
When I pull the trigger we'll stop being here
A sharp dial tone curling up in your ear
The man in the mask is behind the first door
He knows what I'm doing, but I'm not so sure
The beast on my back can not be set aside,
If I'm going down he's along for the ride
The light of the lantern is calling to me
It's significant now, as it ever will be
It's this lacking of time, has set me on edge
Each unpassed moment that's burning my head
This isn't the middle, the end or beginning
Only the slow, silent ceasing of spinning.
This isn't the middle, the end or beginning
Each unpassed moment is burning my head
This lacking of time which has
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Holmes won 
May this poem speak to you, then.
And, yes?
--
“In the reflection, she saw the rough shell of the world sloughing away, revealing the truth shining underneath.”
--
I would like to know from you all if the rhythm ever fails, if rhymes are well constructed and most of all, if you can feel I am talking of the blissful feeling, of meeting under moonlight and dancing to one heart's content.
May this poem speak to you, then.And, yes?
--
“In the reflection, she saw the rough shell of the world sloughing away, revealing the truth shining underneath.”
--
I would like to know from you all if the rhythm ever fails, if rhymes are well constructed and most of all, if you can feel I am talking of the blissful feeling, of meeting under moonlight and dancing to one heart's content.
© 2009 - 2024 TheMaidenInBlack
Comments69
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactA beautiful poem, with a clear meter and rhyme that adds an appropriate serenity.
I have a personal belief that good poetry is that which causes the reader to reflect on their own circumstances and/or memories, and feel what the poet intended in our own context: with that in mind, I think we've all had a night like this one! It reminds me of a night I shared with a special person a long time ago - we went ice-skating together.
My favourite part of this poem was the 6th stanza ("And the sweetest thing..."). There was a moment where I, as a reader, jarred the meter slightly ("Falling under senses' defeat"), which isn't a failure with the writing, but simply my failure to recognise the slight change in meter to accommodate the correct word for the context <img src="e.deviantart.net/emoticons/s/s…" width="15" height="15" alt="
" title=" (Smile)" /> The slant rhyme in this stanza is interesting ("defeat...wit"), as again it causes the reader to slow down and appreciate what's happening in this part of the poem.