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Literature Text
Silver wired windows riddle the webbing
Of some crafty fiend above me, sinking,
On his furled bedmate drinking, drinking;
The crawling sea beneath me is ebbing.
You could hear the waking birds chirrup
To the bustling hefty storm just outside,
Jolting their nests where they reside
As if to be asking, "What's all the stir up?"
Now most of the curling clouds are gone,
And Heaven's spears gave Earth its blood;
Low on the ears, easing up around dawn,
The very last bolt reverberates to a thud...
My wandering memories so often dwell,
Firmly grasping to the Stave of Hope,
Though now she's not within my scope,
I can never endure the hardest farewell.
Vapid are the halls without a sound,
Vapid now as to fill a vagrant soul,
And through that dusty fixture's bowl
The twitchy light eyeballing the ground.
And a one-one, two, one-one, two...
Rhythm of knocking past wooden bars
Fades down the line of aged boudoirs;
Sad drones within on walls to lean to.
Peering, folded, distantly grotesque,
Knowing not what, I near closer to find,
Startling thoughts do shake the mind;
Leery me, it's just a letter on the desk:
"Dearie, dearest, my dear Marī,
Forgive what seemed in me my grief
To let be, let go this, my heart's relief.
Quell! Quell! ’Tis tough to shake thee;
Love's a maniac slinging ecstasy.
Departing for now,
..."
Morning gave way to the noon's gilding rays,
Noon gave way to the evening's softer glows;
Now 6 p.m. before the day comes to a close,
I am two steps beyond tomorrow's gateways.
Forsaken things, pages of thoughts and conundrums
Lay in ruin throughout the evening sky-lighted hall,
Gazing from above while I try to resolve them all,
Weightily stooped over a stepstool with raw thumbs:
My life's a library thrown upon the floor,
Or so it seems, for I had been a biblioclast
(Slayer of books) seeing I had surpassed,
Knowing of certain things I wish to ignore.
Inside her room with quaint relics, mulling now,
I recall her silken coffee tresses long lost scent.
O' damn it all, O' damn it all, it's went! It's went!
Just as I must go, for I've fulfilled my last vow.
Of some crafty fiend above me, sinking,
On his furled bedmate drinking, drinking;
The crawling sea beneath me is ebbing.
You could hear the waking birds chirrup
To the bustling hefty storm just outside,
Jolting their nests where they reside
As if to be asking, "What's all the stir up?"
Now most of the curling clouds are gone,
And Heaven's spears gave Earth its blood;
Low on the ears, easing up around dawn,
The very last bolt reverberates to a thud...
My wandering memories so often dwell,
Firmly grasping to the Stave of Hope,
Though now she's not within my scope,
I can never endure the hardest farewell.
Vapid are the halls without a sound,
Vapid now as to fill a vagrant soul,
And through that dusty fixture's bowl
The twitchy light eyeballing the ground.
And a one-one, two, one-one, two...
Rhythm of knocking past wooden bars
Fades down the line of aged boudoirs;
Sad drones within on walls to lean to.
Peering, folded, distantly grotesque,
Knowing not what, I near closer to find,
Startling thoughts do shake the mind;
Leery me, it's just a letter on the desk:
"Dearie, dearest, my dear Marī,
Forgive what seemed in me my grief
To let be, let go this, my heart's relief.
Quell! Quell! ’Tis tough to shake thee;
Love's a maniac slinging ecstasy.
Departing for now,
..."
Morning gave way to the noon's gilding rays,
Noon gave way to the evening's softer glows;
Now 6 p.m. before the day comes to a close,
I am two steps beyond tomorrow's gateways.
Forsaken things, pages of thoughts and conundrums
Lay in ruin throughout the evening sky-lighted hall,
Gazing from above while I try to resolve them all,
Weightily stooped over a stepstool with raw thumbs:
My life's a library thrown upon the floor,
Or so it seems, for I had been a biblioclast
(Slayer of books) seeing I had surpassed,
Knowing of certain things I wish to ignore.
Inside her room with quaint relics, mulling now,
I recall her silken coffee tresses long lost scent.
O' damn it all, O' damn it all, it's went! It's went!
Just as I must go, for I've fulfilled my last vow.
Literature
glass heart
till friday
i’m me
till friday
i’m free
and then on friday
i’ll return to this prison
that i used to call home —
dance behind the chains sneaking around my heart
squeezing, till i bleed happy tears
when i see your hazel eyes again
it’s nothing but stars under a dimly lit room
brighter than the aquamarine and diamonds that hang above my chest
that i clutch and finger;
a weak grip on a reality slipping
dangerously into fantasy; here
you touch here i crave
and our fingers and lips are dancing with our feet
till midnight, it’s blue and black that hide the flowers
blossoming into fulfilment when we’re c
Literature
Moon of my Heart
When I reflect on her, I think of the Moon.
So alive and filled with magic,
never too bright, or too dim,
she hangs in my night's sky like a beacon,
showing me the truth of myself,
To gaze upon her is to dream endlessly of her touch,
yet remain a million stars apart.
She is neither here, nor there,
flitting effortlessly across my heart,
like a wayward ship upon a glass ocean.
And I will love her
till the End
Literature
And Just Like That Letting Go Feels So Much Easier
There's something life changing in the way you tap your pen against the desk.
I'm not just saying so to sound poetically nice on page,
but because with the click of your pen meeting wood I can see myself on the other side, being caught in your gaze when you look out over your glasses.
I see myself telling you how annoying it is.
You sticking your tongue out and laughing.
I would say it not because the sound drives me crazy,
but because seeing you laughing does.
When I say something as small as a nervous tick is life changing it's because I can feel you changing my life.
Even in the small moments.
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THERE IS [NO] AUTHORIZATION TO USE MY WORK IN ANY WAY, SHAPE,
OR FORM IN YOUR WORK. [NO] DOWNLOADS ARE ALLOWED.
COPYRIGHT © VicariouSoul. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This poem is in memory of someone I knew. May it invoke a little something in everyone.
In case no one catches on, the first stanza relates to a spider in the window, and the house is on higher ground where down below the sea licks at the walls.
© 2012 - 2024 VicariouSoul
Comments27
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"My life's a library thrown upon the floor"... "silken coffee tresses long lost scent"
I'm left speechless. This is one of the best works I've read on dA. You captivated me from the very start with strong word choices.
The way it flows is beautiful. Every word seems carefully picked and placed in it's proper line. "Silver wired windows" and "furled bedmate" are the more startling descriptions to me. Overall, the repetition here is very effective. but sometimes I found myself getting lost in all the rhyming. Perhaps more variety?
As I read aloud, the beats seem to be different throughout the stanzas. It's not a smooth transition, but that's not necessarily a bad thing (for the bird one). This stanza stands for itself and seems to break attention in the piece. It's the only one with solid connection to the surroundings. Your use of powerful imagery provokes the reader. Delightful details like the skittish characterization of light adds a great anxiety/emotion to the piece.
The ending is perhaps my favorite part of the piece. It's terribly beautiful. The poem progressed from one of frustration to resignation.
Thank you so much for sharing this work. It is haunting.
I'm left speechless. This is one of the best works I've read on dA. You captivated me from the very start with strong word choices.
The way it flows is beautiful. Every word seems carefully picked and placed in it's proper line. "Silver wired windows" and "furled bedmate" are the more startling descriptions to me. Overall, the repetition here is very effective. but sometimes I found myself getting lost in all the rhyming. Perhaps more variety?
As I read aloud, the beats seem to be different throughout the stanzas. It's not a smooth transition, but that's not necessarily a bad thing (for the bird one). This stanza stands for itself and seems to break attention in the piece. It's the only one with solid connection to the surroundings. Your use of powerful imagery provokes the reader. Delightful details like the skittish characterization of light adds a great anxiety/emotion to the piece.
The ending is perhaps my favorite part of the piece. It's terribly beautiful. The poem progressed from one of frustration to resignation.
Thank you so much for sharing this work. It is haunting.