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April 12, 2012
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There was an angel of the honest skies,
Who's white wings were struck,
By the lashes of lightning cries.
She fell from above into earthly muck,
To the wistful wonder of two youths of yore.

With her face in distress of her plight,
She took two feathers of fire,
And gouged out her eyes of eternal light.
In the dirt this heavenly being did tire,
Until she was awoken by the prodding of paws.

Two days rolled past her corrupted visage,
As meek mortals tended to her pain,
To the dismay of the denizen's rage.
In tears this being of beauty tried in vain,
To call out for help from her blood brethren.

For a month and a day she did heal,
Yet vile villagers could not bear her presence,
And coerced her to sup their sordid meal.
Never did this creature fall to fever or trance,
In her wrath she weaved a callous curse.

Upon her saviours she bestowed a charm,
A habitat of hope that kept them secure,
From insanity of idiots who knew only harm.
Though evil began to corrupt her mind so pure,
To be punished as a servant for Satan.

Unyielding was she to this cruelty of fate,
Her resistance of reality caused her madness,
And her heart was flooded with hate.
Those she knew as her salvation filled with sadness,
To see her fall from the love of her lord.

By her rage the soil tinged with blood,
Seeping down into the devil's den,
Until hell crumbled under a crimson flood.
Blind was she to the fury of murderous men,
Who wished to destroy her demonic state.

She did not flee nor did she believe,
Her deluded actions were acrimonious,
But to her defenders she could deceive.
Both knew she had turned poisonous,
So they prayed for her redemption.

Seraphic stars answered their request,
To harmonize the howls of that cherub,
And to soothe the souls of her unrest.
Sickened were they of her sinful rub,
To their utmost regret to save her from sin.

A shadow of darkness was in her dreams,
And no living legend could calm her,
Tears flowed down her skin like streams.
In wisdom of the wrong she had to bear,
Of a nightmare that had entwined her in a snare.

From her saviours she sought forgiveness,
But desecrate did she their delightful home,
Of a ruined town where all were witness.
In shame they exiled her to eternally roam,
Lost in the forests that bordered her corruption.

Along a bank of a rippling river,
The angel stopped to bathe her forlorn face,
But a miracle of magic made her shiver.
Water cleansed her taint leaving no trace,
Her mind became clear and her perception too.

With her holy aura revived anew,
She returned to the town in hope,
To correct the wrongs of all she knew.
But on her way trapped was she by rope,
And taken as a prisoner back to her misery.

Plead did she in their derelict dystopia,
To a crowd chanting anger and remorse
Damning her: the destroyer of utopia.
Forgiveness she asked but their curse,
Was locked to her dismay of faith.

A dire omen they saw once divine,
Was in their sight a symbol of spite,
Until a halo shone over her hair so fine.
Enamoured echoes burst forth in the night,
As winged messengers arose from atoned ashes.

Roars of revenge seeped into silence,
Time stood still and space tuned into infinity,
Then valorous might eradicated all her violence.
Away flew those archangels of perpetual pity,
Leaving behind a child with sighs of sympathy.

Young was she who fell to emerald Earth,
A minor foolish beyond her fascination,
Taken to act akin to witless worth.
To gaze upon her idol of infatuation,
But curiosity led her to a predestined fate.

No immortal was she in that aerial arena,
And not trust was granted by those in denial,
Below on scarlet soil or up in the sky serene.
To go home and free herself of this tormenting trial,
Was all that her ignorance could afford to appeal.

No more an angel was she in sorrow,
For now her status was of a lesser stature,
A humble human in the mercy of their horror.
Yet now she sat in the midst of mortals mature,
A herald of an existence beyond the eve of death.

Her voice did not echo nor stir the air,
But whisper did she words of wisdom,
To the ears of all those who cared to hear.
She spoke of paradise in a perfect kingdom,
Where seraphim sing in solitude to all.

With persuasions of predestined peace,
She soothed al of their stricken souls,
Banishing any opinion she was a beast.
Glad were all to pursue gallant goals,
To forge a new legend in ageless annals.

Forevermore did she fend for them,
In a town that so many have now forgot,
But never by an angel who fell from heaven.
You may seek her but you shall not,
Hidden is she in that urban wilderness of wonder.
A poem I wrote after learning about a painting called The Wounded Angel. Basically I tried to write a story but in poetry form. It's harder than it looks.

This is my 599th poem.
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:iconforgotten-reaper:
Yes <3 Just yes. I can picture this perfectly, the imagery all the way through is perfect, the writing scheme and rhymes all fit ^^" Which is quite well done for such a huge piece.

I personally think your writing style's a slight cop-out. Purely because of how one line doesn't have to rhyme at all XD Sorry. So I'm not giving you all of them for critique ^^"

Impact's really high, because I genuinely felt sorry for this poor creature, cast out and alone... <3 And I loved how it told it from a third person point of view, and at the end. It made me picture an old man telling it in a bar to some newcomer looking for the fallen angel, being told of the legends. "You may seek her, but you shall not" ... I loved that line.
SO MUCH <3 Like, I want to have children with it.

Originality is low because of how many times this tale has been told over and over and over.... Type in "Fallen angel" to the browser bar, go on popular, all time, and tell me there's not a million deviations ._. I dare ya. But I liked it <3
What do you think?
The Artist thought this was FAIR
6 out of 6 deviants thought this was fair.

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:iconsnowy-adopts:
Snowy-Adopts Feb 14, 2014  Student Digital Artist
Your art has been featured! snowy-adopts.deviantart.com/jo…
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:iconvegetabelle:
Vegetabelle Apr 13, 2012  Student General Artist
wow. This is absolutely amazing. I love it. And yes. Writing epics/ stories in poetry is a lot harder than it looks.
Reply
:iconnemox7:
NemoX7 Apr 13, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Took my two days to write. Heavily influenced by the song "Amaranth" by Nightwish. Vert hard to conclude the story intelligently. And also very difficult to keep a decent enough rhyme scheme without the story becoming tired.
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:iconvegetabelle:
Vegetabelle Apr 14, 2012  Student General Artist
That makes sense. Well kudos to you!
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:iconrifletwofour:
RifleTwoFour Apr 12, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I need more time to write a critique, very good though.
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:iconwandering-serenity:
Wandering-Serenity Apr 12, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
That's quite a yarn! I rarely write anything with more then twenty lines.
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:iconmanigran:
Manigran Apr 12, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Wow, just beautiful.
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:iconnemox7:
NemoX7 Apr 12, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks. What did you like about it?
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:iconmanigran:
Manigran Apr 12, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
It was a really riveting story. It had beautiful imagery, lovely rhyme scheme, and the conclusion just tied it up perfectly. You gave me an idea for a rhyme scheme for a poem I'm working on. I think your rhyme scheme here really works well for storytelling, so I'd like to use it. Is that okay?
Reply
:iconnemox7:
NemoX7 Apr 12, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
If it works for you, then your fine to use it, although it's my own style of writing. I taught myself how to write poems. The rhyme scheme is of my own invention, haven't really seen anyone living or dead use it. Glad the conclusion was good, afraid it was going to be mediocre.
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