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Literature
Reaper in the Shadows
I am the dust in the gathering light,
Heard in the drop of morning rain,
Looming within the rose bud,
A speck in night's velvet wake.
I whisper louder than Zephyr,
Sing with a voice that's croaked,
You hear me beneath the screams,
Of fears Silence cloaked.
As warm as Love's confusion,
As cold as the other's heart.
The shady, cunning warrior,
Who tears the world apart.
You'll find me drowned in water,
Buried deep in desert sand.
Unseen like the wisp of vapor,
That came from no man's land.
Freed to be caged forever,
In an endless labyrinthian maze.
Where each dead end is my escape,
And waxed wings are set ablaze.
Literature
Cemetery!
Sepia night crawls slowly by
Casting shadows softly sigh
Gravestones dominate terrain
Filled with humanities endless pain.
To the left stands Cedar grove
Distinctive shape quite colourless
Under tree one lonely grave
Occupant restless, soul to save.
Shadow emerged from grave ground
Glides down rows of buried dead
Hesitates before angel who prays
Intentions honourable, tears shed.
Kneeling now, ghostly prayer
Before sculpture of stone
Remembering what? we'll never know
Memories belong to the grave below.
Delice1941
7.6.12
Literature
Being
Being a girl
Doesn't make me
Less intelligent than you;
Weaker than you;
Less determined than you;
More vulnerable than you;
Less talented than you.
Being me makes me
Witty and persevering;
Outspoken and creative;
Original and unique;
Charming and clever;
And obviously more
Open-minded than you.
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Since my phone has become temporarily incapacitated, I haven't really written much this past week. However, as a sort of warm-up, I wrote this small poem on my blackberry an hour ago in the spitting rain. Luckily I can upload this from a library computer. Again this was off-the-cuff stuff, completely and utterly blank minded while writing.
Comments6
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Overall Vision
Originality Technique ImpactWell, this is an extremely well written poem, with beautiful, yet tortured imagery; explaining any soul in love or pain vividly and truthfully.
The wording makes the poem seem soft and gentle, a lament instead of a battle cry, and all the better for it; making it seem like tear drops on paper have progressed to words, so it seems a natural poem, even for all its elegance.
As much as I love it the subject is not a original one; but since pain such a more complex emotion than short rays of happiness and usually is worded better, it is easy enough to look past and just red this short yet epic tragedy for what it is - the essence of life.