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Annihilation Of A SoulIt's a terror to behold,
The annihilation of a simple soul.
How could you be so cold?
All your finite fury is foul,
Poisoning the wisdom of the world.

It's a horror to witness,
The obliteration of a lovely life.
How could you think so less?
All your sacrosanct sin is strife,
Embellishing the mood into a mess.

It's a sorrow to react,
The devastation of a mortal mind.
How could you break this pact?
All your unceremonious umbrage is unkind,
Corrupting the atmosphere of an act.

The Hardest WordTo say goodbye,
It's not the hardest word.
My honesty is all but broken,
And I look away with eyes so blue,
I cannot say with these tears I cry.

To say sorry,
It's not the hardest word.
My ignorance only leaves you shattered,
And I know in my heart so black,
I should apologise but I'd rather fly.

To say no,
It's not the hardest word.
My addiction drives you insane,
And I feel that my ears bleed so red,
As I struggle to answer your one question: why?

Escape From RealitySometimes when I close my eyes,
I dream of a calmer time when I didn't cry.
To slumber alone in those sunshine days,
Where I was at peace: away from the craze,
Yet I fear I'm wondering lost in their urban plague.

Sometimes when I close my eyes,
I escape to a darker place where I can die.
To linger awhile in that luminous night,
Where I can be content: caught in the daze,
Yet I know I'm struggling now in this hopeless phase.

Sometimes when I close my eyes,
I think of a serene dawn while I sigh.
To vacate away in that voidless space,
Where I shall be alive: independent of that maze,
Yet I wake I'm choking air in that distant place

Dancing DragonsDancing dragons in the air,
Flying high with fluid flair.
Captured onto a celestial canvas,
Elegant eyes sketching with a beautiful brush,
As they dive down into a reckless rush.

Soaring serpents in the wind,
Twisting around with kinetic kind.
Imprisoned onto a pure photograph,
Graceful gazes painting with a sincere snap,
As they lie low to take a nuanced nap.

Wandering wyverns in the skies,
Swimming fast with cherubic cries.
Engraved onto a fantastical frame,
Dexterous digits carving with a seraphic skill,
As they swiftly swerve by their wondrous will.

Howling hydras in the zephyr,
Cruising free with winter weather.
Trapped

MelancholiaHere on this vacant shore I sleep,
Under the waning glow I start to weep,
With calm eyes trickling woeful tears.
To pass by many aching years,
Of a miserable life so alone.

By those melancholic waves I walk,
Filled with cold depression I fail to talk,
As innocent words stale in morbid breath,
To wish for a majestic longing death,
Of a dire mortality on loan.

Yet all those nostalgic sights I see,
Blinding me with sour memories I try to flee,
In a mania of ritualistic pessimism,
To bleed in that ocean of dour optimism,
Of a disturbed future I know.

Elements Of NaturePeople can no longer cover their eyes,
As the whips of lightning flash,
In the hemisphere of stormy skies.
But what is the reason for the rain,
To wash away the woe and the pain?

People can no longer turn their backs,
As the cries of thunder smash,
On the surface of torrential tracks.
But what is the reason for the wind,
That listens to lies and turns you blind?

People can no longer hide their graces,
As the howls of raindrops lash,
By the mirror of flooded faces.
But what is the reason for the hail,
It can only maim the voices that fail?

Inner HellPeople will never understand my inner hell,
For every dark morning breath I draw,
Only forces me to combat the urge to yell.
My hatred of this impassive existence is raw,
Never feeling alive as those who survive.

People can never evaluate my inner hell,
For every cold twilight kiss I crave,
Truly siphons my mortality trapped in a shell.
My distaste of this eternal ignorance is brave,
Forever yielding rage for those who enrage.

People may never sense my inner hell,
For every intense dawn sun I fear,
Really denies my eyes to remember well.
My loathing of this internal episode is clear,
Ever consuming horror in a field full of terr

Everlasting LoveEverlasting Love.

Two wrinkled hands intertwined with one another.
Their frail legs moving at a notably slow pace.
They always come in to the store every Sunday morning.
Buying their weekly packets of bird nuts and wild berries.
The elderly man always gives me a subtle wink whenever he sees me.
Comments on the amount of female partners I should be courting.
While the elderly women casts an innocent smile.
Ignoring her husbands repeated jokes and tugs him out the store.

The next week the elderly man is pushing his wife about the store.
His arms straining from the weight of the wheel chair.
He holds up two variations of bird berries

If This Be My LastIf this be my last,
I'd better scar the sordid skin,
With a blade cut flourishing fast.
I might not know where to begin,
But I'll end this loathsome life of sin.

If this be my last,
I'd better bruise the bloody bone,
With a hammer blow anguishing aghast.
I never believed this could happen,
But now here I stand with a knife sharpened.

If this be my last,
I'd better tear out the traumatic tendons,
With a scythe flash punishing past.
I could suffer so much internal pain,
But I'll always have these umbra urges again.

FragileHow could something so fragile,
As the humble heart of a lover's longing,
Be so easily torn in twain?
Was it his desire to deal in danger,
When he first gazed upon your glance?

How could something so fragile,
As the sweet soul of a valentine's virtue,
Be so tragically annulled once again?
In his honour and humility for you he did hunger,
But never did you care or give into chance.

How could something so fragile,
As the flickering fire of a sweetheart's seduction,
Be so pathetically ruined in the rain?
His amorous advances are all but asunder,
With malice you've split his love with your lance.

How Did We Get Here?How did we get here?
When I thought I'd knew you so well,
That I could walk into the very pits of hell,
And save you from those demons of charm;
But all I see in your eyes is pure alarm.

How did we get here?
All I knew of love has been taken away,
Corroded down to ridicule of all we could say,
Dismissed by me but cherished by you long before;
Yet not this time when words are sore.

How did we get here?
I cannot decipher the truth from the lies,
Figuring you out while the pain inside cries,
Why do you hate me with a lover's gaze;
Would you plague me forever feigning this craze?

A Bad PersonAm I a bad person,
Just because you don't like me?
I can't help the way I am,
Nor do I need this grievance you see,
Though the friendship can never be born.

Am I a bad person,
Just because you hate my smile?
It's not a statement of self,
Honestly I find myself to be vile,
But you don't need to send me into oblivion.

Am I bad person,
Just because I act the way I like?
I'm sorry if I'm such a git,
I didn't mean to generate this psych,
Yet your judgement has passed and you've won.

In A Forest DarkGliding in sable forests I stalk,
Upon cracking sticks and velvet soil,
I sail onwards under my fearless walk.
Never knowing how lost I have become,
Grasping arms entrap me in their horrendous home.

Wandering in dark woods I muse,
Along rushing streams and chaotic moss,
I'll be given a simple choice but I will refuse.
To continue onwards to the lair of death,
Weeping stares will consume my beastly breath.

Stumbling in black trees I trek,
Across waiting stones and fragile twigs,
I journey further until I reach a ghostly wreck.
In an oasis of green flourishing in a placid scene,
Studying acutely it's image of an object obscene.

Unicorn!Breathtaking Unicorn
Legendary creature
White as driven snow
Pure heart and spirit
Dwells in fabled land
Where integrity prevails
Momentarily glimpse
Of perfect perfection
Glorious Unicorn.

2012 Delice1941

The Pain WithinLet go of your hate,
Your revenge can wait.
Whoever did you wrong,
Can never know the hurt,
That made you strong.

You know it's a part,
Of you're aching heart.
Whoever broke your smile,
Can never understand the pain,
That turned you vile.

Don't give up on love,
Though you'll feel rough.
Whoever killed your hope,
Can never believe the longing,
That more you cope.

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Black-HeartOh look at her with ivory eyes,
Striking the velvet veil of starless skies.
Is she a draconian demon ready to bring ruin,
Upon those that ripped her life apart,
With every pulsating beat of her black-heart?

Oh look at her with crimson claws,
Maiming the satin skin of monstrous maws.
Is she a bedlam beast desiring to grant devastation,
Upon those who mocked her for a start,
With all the wild begging of her black-heart?

Oh look at her with ebony breath,
Purging the flaxen flesh of devilish death.
Is she a cruel creature who wields her earthly wrath
Upon all who took to hurt with such art,
With the aching echoes of her black-heart?

Dear Mr. RealityDear Mr. Reality,
What have you done to me?
I am alone and everyone has died,
Was it more than words of weary woe,
Or silence that made them leave?

Dear Mr. Reality,
Where are you right now?
I am scared and everything has gone,
Was it only little things in turbulent times,
Or a catastrophe I did not know?

Dear Mr. Reality,
Why couldn't you just be dead?
I am upset and everywhere has vanished,
Was it just me screwing up social salutations,
Or mere fantasy of realism instead?

Birds Of RuinIn those final hours of June,
I trespass into fields of silver and gold,
Listening to birds singing a dismal tune.
Noire crows muse up high as I wander so cold,
To hear a morbid lullaby sailing through the air.

In those final hours of June,
I meander up streams of ruby and sapphire,
Watching birds dance to a song called ruin.
Sable ravens endure on oaken limbs burning in fire,
So fate is a sorrowful death with which they share.

In those final hours of June,
I lie upon sands of iron and steel,
Feeding those birds who will sing to me soon.
Ebony sparrows condemn me to a dead-man's meal,
If they be black omens: is heralds of dying

When Push Comes To ShoveWhen push comes to shove,
I know times will get tough.
Hell I don't need an angel from above,
To recite rhymes of reality,
And to say that life is going to be rough.

When push comes to shove,
I stand on such fragile ground.
Oh I wish I could fly away like a dove,
To soar silently in sobriety,
And never hear my death in that sound.

When push comes to shove,
I realise that the task is up to me.
But I cannot do this alone my love,
To pursue this poison called poetry,
And forever may I lack eyes with which to see.

October RainUpon sombre shores of sorrow,
I'll bide my time and wait,
For that onslaught of old October rain.
Those twilight tears wash away,
All my misery and all my pain,

Along bitter beaches of banality,
I'll forget my wants and needs,
For that oblivion of opaque October rain.
Spits of sadness turn sand into clay,
As my mood falls apart in vain.

In weary waters of worry,
I'll endure my death and fate,
For that oscillation I call October rain.
In that sweet shower I fail to say,
How could it have returned again?

Stronger Than I Chorus
Only the strongest will survive,
When all the weak will perish and die.
It's no truth to say it ain't a lie,
Nothing but howls of hatred and rage,
Keeps you fighting to be alive.

Verse I
Is this a despicable damnation,
To speak ill of salvation?
Breathe in that battlefield with bitter breath,
There is no more joy or even hope,
When all you fear is the doorway to death.

Chorus
Only the strongest will survive,
When all the weak will perish and die.
It's no truth to say it ain't a lie,
Nothing but laments of love and affection,
Keeps you fighting to be alive.

Verse II
Will you carry on with courage,
To enrage those y

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The Weeping Angel

by ~NemoX7, May 5, 2012, 11:09:52 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

She holds her head in her hands,
Never breathing or blinking.
She is a morbid master of the sands,
Of time that terrorises your torment:
Gaze upon her vile visage and away you go.

She stands alone in such grace,
Never talking or thinking.
She has her elusive eyes on your face,
Of innocence that isolates your idiocy:
Look at her sinister snarl and you'll depart too.

She watches you with utter patience,
Never whistling or winking.
She'll turn lights low in her defence,
Of malevolence that murders your mind:
Stare out to her granite guise and forget all you know.

The Weeping Angelby ~NemoX7

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

If you can't tell from the title, this poem was inspired by the Series 3 Doctor Who monster: The Weeping Angel. The episode entitled "Blink" by Steven Moffat, must be to me one of the most entertaining and most rewarding episode of Doctor Who.

Even though "The Silence" are a worthy opponent in the most scariest of Moffat's creations. I still accredit the seemly benign aspect of sending people back in time to live out their lives as an original take on being killed.

And yes, I'm an avid Who fan. I've seen all the Doctors stories, or most of them. Bit upset I had to sell all of my dvds of them though. Gutted is the word.

The poem itself is set in an urban middle class suburb. With an angel standing in a garden full of weeds and nettles as though it's been there for quite some time.

I have done this in my own style and could be taken out of the context of Doctor Who if prefered.

~zrd1166 Sep 26, 2012 Student Writer

wicked! i had to cover my eyes during that episode and i think you have captured the part that freaked me out the most. its the whole not moving but im still gonna get you things, just creeps the hell out of me. well done

~Vegetabelle May 5, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

AWESOME! one of my friends is a doctor who fanatic. She'll love reading this.

~Manigran May 5, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

This is fantastic. I think this is my favourite poem from you so far. There is so much great imagery and powerful lines here.

~TheBlackWolf07 May 5, 2012 Student Artist

ugh. the poem is beautiful but the episodes.....*shivers* that is the one thing that i have been scared of. its creepy!

~NemoX7 May 5, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Yeah, it is indeed creepy. But I think it's just that lack of movement that gives it that extra bit of creepiness. Glad you found the poem to be beautiful.

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