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Imaginary fettersBlazing squinting eyes
that watchful shadow keeps
he bound himself with fetters of
and opinions, if only he'd see,
The soul attire of conduct and
reflected but sham image of
he scrutinized his portrait in the
but could not recognize the one
he had become.
Perceiving he lived more
suppressing and profoundly hiding
that insipid life did
when he'd unleashed his
Years in her eyes Every birthday she wakes up early; and with her intimate diary and a pen she gaily trudges up a green hill - a fifteen-minute walk from where she lived. Under the one solemnly standing, big old tree there she sits down. It is the usual time she looked back at a year passed. A year torn between rapture and grief; hours of anxiety, and moments of relief; depressing falls, and soaring spirits. A year where there are chapters stained with the loss of the ones we loved, and others ornamented with such time we had with wonderful friends, and rimmed with rather great acquaintances.
This year the view from the top was overwhelmingly breath-taking that she'd to contemplate the beauty of nature for some time; and after taking few last glimpses of the gently bright orange disc, before it was far too unbearable to be an object for her delicate vitreous eyes, she went to her old seat. As she opened her diary, the morning breeze softly rustled stirring the withered leaves o
The story of my life The story of my life: somebody comes over and says 'I love you', instantly lifting me up on top of the world; days pass and I ,abruptly, take a shot right in the core blowing me off the edge; and as I fall I see all our gorgeous memories fading away up amidst the clouds, except for two moments that cling to me: the moment when he made me the happiest lassie in the world; and that when he took away everything, leaving me with another stab in my heart - everything goes black...
I open my eyes to such ghastly atmosphere!. Having reached everything around me, the fire of boredom devoured any interest in them I might have, or even might had have!. Dull and colourless, is what everything seems to me. I shut myself up in my room dodging those intrusive inquires , though in consciousness meant but good - I know, but that doesn't make them any less bothering!, alluding to pallor, absence of mind, and loss of appetite to do anything!.
My nights wer
Brutal worldHe'd fallen down a dark and horrid place,
alone with neither guide nor shred of light,
where path of doubt and self-denial he'd face,
along with wind of silent pain at night.
"O clock, would you ever cease to tick?" Therefore -
a quick, but prudent, decision shall be made;
for chilly snags of life did freeze my core,
"O God, that night appears quite loath to fade."
He wandered here and there with slouching back;
he had to find that starry skied-road,
to cast the arrows of light upon that track
and bury the weight of such a heavy load.
"Forsaking kindness or, retaining it?,
In such a brutal world which one does fit?"
Orchard of LoveO, orchard of love, how glamorous you are!
Her first step in such effusion of beauty
transfigured her soul with elation;
merrily rambling around, the enthralling scenery
blinded her vision to the evident thorns.
Amongst bewitching blossoms she danced,
and swayed in the gentle breeze;
conceived she'd got it all -
for what can be more worthy-having?
Amidst the sweet passionate atmosphere -
of love poems, and birds chanting,
she had her very first kiss
and utterly yielded to his charm.
A great shame it was, when the betrayal wind blew
breaking her fragile light heart to tiny -
shards that scattered all around,
leaving her with eternal wounds.
Eventually, but so late, she did comprehend
not every love story a fairy-tale.
O, orchard of love, how deceiving is your facade!
Soul Painting Immersing the brush in a glass of water; dipping it in the palette within her left hand mixing up some colours; and then gently gliding the damp thick tip of the brush over the canvas, bringing her imagination to life. She kept doing this for some hours, and paid no heed to the late hour, nor to her sleepy state - for she was about to finish her masterpiece...
Beth is a very talented painter, and a passionate one. Painters usually care too much about details, but she was overly fastidious a person. Her only indulgence existed amongst her painting tools. Her life was a bit of a mess; she was never happy in her social life; she'd got no lover, nor friends, but enough fans. She was deficient in many noble merits that the power of fame had long ago covered - come on who's perfect!- so in real life not everyone liked her personality. As an artist, she could perceive the power of colours; she'd always entertained that colours' greatest power is being so meaningful
.the sun did not
kiss my skin
yesterday, he slept
face around noon
and then went back
to bed; the
midnight aches and inside strangersevery night
I wake up to strangers
(No, it's not what you think.
These aren't one-
or tequila lungs
They're the oaths
kept in the
depths of my
of the fears
the dearest dreams
slithering my spine]
these are the cups
in my sorrows
in the riverbed
of a throat
from the vine garden
they found a way
They are the ones
in my blood
shuddering my bones
There's no fright.
folded like a contortionist
in my chest
while the moon
my sky's pendant,
and just listens.
IciclesWarm, soft air,
Breath as a ghost on the breeze
condensing into a fine mist,
Dancing bitter pirouettes
and whispering silken omens,
as petals in the snow.
Cold, hard earth,
Crunching miniature cities
with a single, gentle footfall,
Loping, silent, singing
liquid silver racing,
Urgent, fateful missions
as glacial rivers flow.
Delicate, crystal bells,
Delightful, intricate daggers
deceiving battered flesh,
Garnished, bruised, marked
fantastic rainbow shades,
Radiating fractures leak
as veins of shattered pearl.
Harsh, rasping nails,
Driving blizzards shrieking
blue, murderous claws,
Acute fangs clenching
against blasphemous vows,
Fall to the depths
of ostracised perdition.
Trying to HuntThere was a tear sometime into winter
It was deep onyx and browbeaten
Bleeding murk that grayed the snow,
In an unknown portion of the cedars;
Cold filled the sandwich up with slime.
“Time” said Rex, “the seer of all things
has found you out.” (Trudging went the boots)
Winter looked soft but wetly it chaffed, it made
One’s feet miserable; the gun kept slipping
And the jacket decided to forgo its warmth.
There was no grand effulgence amongst the Ether,
There was no “I” in the clouds; what was one hunting?
Geese they flew in an echelon that burned in white
Every year feeling it out, knowing better; ‘they must feel
Love? They bond for life;’ no “I” was in the cloud.
Horrible is a truth that one can find, reflected in
A swath of nature, there is no help in the hollows
Or the brooks, no solace when blood is in one’s ears
Consciousness buzzed along, and breath labored;
One listened to the heartbeat atop the clinkin
What if the sky had feelings
And it's clouds were its face
If it rained, it was sad
It it was clear, she was glad
If it was dark and stormy, she was mad
But I wait everyday
For it to one day just snow
Eventually it would snow on a grey sky
The sky was exceptionally sad today
It was winter and no one liked the cold
She felt lonely and empty
And kept her clouds just as grey almost everyday
Because no one seemed to care anymore like they used too
One day she thought maybe it was time to wake up
Maybe bring in something beautiful she recently created
It started snowing, scared that no one would think it was beautiful
It was just a light snowfall
She was wrong, the light ice crystals that fell from the sky pleased many
Finally, she felt welcomed by the fellow people
And her heart had felt warm and less alone
She smiled in the winter
Because she felt accepted
(In general I enjoy winter, yes it's quite lonely and well that's me xD but I think it's a beautiful season, don't judge it by
SeasonsH-hi my name is Spring..
people like call me Shy a lot..
im the most calm of all 4..
normally I hate to talk but,
ill bring in a little chat..
sometimes if im not making my drizzle entrance,
ill put up a kite in the breezy sky..
its very peaceful during my time,
maybe even putting some freshly new flowers
while wearing my green wispy dress.
even though me and autumn don't have a lot of time,
ill make sure nature will show who i really am by then..
Hello! The name's Summer!
people love to call me outgoing!
I'm the pretty radical season here guys.
haha yo im not afraid of others,
so I ain't worried of chatting with folks!
ill bring in my sizzling heat entrance (whoops!)
with a friendly atmosphere during my period!
eh ill just put on my Muse hat + sunglasses
along with my epic shirt n' pants
luckily me and winter last for a while
so hopefully the heat and fun will help shows me off!..
*Sigh* oh sorry, im Autumn
the complaining folks calle
winterIt is 21 degrees Fahrenheit outside
and the air shudders in its icy grip:
pine needles frosted in fairy dust
and breath lost in the elegance of silver spiderwebs.
Ice, white and black, coats sidewalks,
sliding dogs' paws out from under their owners
and disappointing children in its solidity;
ponds drip like spoiled milk onto the pelts
of voles burrowed in their homes for the winter.
Harrowed birds flutter and squabble
over the remainder of seeds lost
under a bench by the rats' nest.
They wheel and peck above summer-flung stones
hurled on a day when a different kind of pond froze.
That summer nightSitting amid the silky sand grains
that glisten under the silver moonlight;
contemplating the forth worlds above,
I yearn to comprehend the eerie language -
of those forever-glittering gazing eyes.
The bittersweet northern wind rustles
blowing to me the spray of the mild sea;
I shiver, and then,
breathe in the most exquisite smell;
and along their melody my heart merrily leaps
Among so poetic atmosphere, a comet shines:
lighting up the horizon,
enthralling my soul, and mesmerising my mind,
as it sweeps the sky with its luminous tail -
of magical golden dust, and sparkling water drips.
To my feet I shift my weight to bid
my farewells to the transient guest as
it exists the scene;
drooping my eyelids, drowning in a trance,
I make my wish:
'May all the years' nights be as -
fabulous as this summer's splendid one'
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More