|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
Save meUnder roaring sky, amid the angry waves,
heard her piercing cry resound from deep below.
All alone, I fight against the current.
Out in dark, but lead by ardent heart
paying not the slightest heed to
what they call 'Insanity'
Down the depths, the darkness
palls. I find my moon;
dim, the sprites
guide us back,
back to -
VengeanceVitreous eyes aflame with anger:
a fiery pique -
that is no more a feeling;
it will have you encircled.
A face-off is imminent.
'There's no where to hide.'
Imaginary fettersBlazing squinting eyes
that watchful shadow
keeps sidling behind.
He bound himself with fetters
of sneering looks,
and opinions, if only he'd see,
The soul attire of conduct
and uttered words,
reflected but sham image
of the inside.
He scrutinized his portrait
in the looking-through glass,
but could not recognize the one
he had become.
He perceived he lived more
suppressing and profoundly hiding
that insipid life did
when he'd unleashed
his real core.
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 lives. 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 were 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
The story of my life One magically beautiful day or splendidly starry night, somebody accosts me 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. As I fall I see all our gorgeous memories fading away up amidst the clouds, except for two moments that stick to my head: the moment when they made me the happiest person in the world; and that when they 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 devours any interest in them I might have, or even had have! Dull and gaunt, is what they had become. I shut myself up in my room dodging those intrusive inquires, though in consciousness meant but good - I do know, but that doesn't make them any less bothering: alluding to pallor, absence of mind, and loss of appetite to do anything. I just wanna be al
Brutal worldAwoke he was in dark and horrid place,
alone with neither guide nor shred of light,
where path of doubt and self-denial he'd face,
along with whispers that disturb the night.
'Won't clock's ticking ever cease?' 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!
The moment she entered such effusion,
her soul was transfigured with elation;
the enthralling scenery silenced every scruple,
and had her vision bound to the merry present.
Amid the bewitching blossoms she danced,
and swayed in the gentle breeze;
conceived she'd got it all -
for what can be more worthy?
A passionate adoration, a poetic atmosphere,
aflame with his mesmerising charm.
She yielded utterly;
a feather carried by his wind.
A dainty sunflower under the star;
her sustenance for life; her beacon of dreams.
She loved him with no fear nor limits,
forgetting about her own will.
Insipid, she'd grown to him;
a change he desired.
Rebuffing all the heralds, she soared high.
He broke her wings.
What once was the pulse of glee,
is now draining tears.
Such change made her perceive:
not every love story a fairy-tale.
O, orchard of love, how sham you are!
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 Local Loch, August 2014 (27th)Prehistory’s iPad.
When light hit the water
a supernova dance of
scurrying dust swayed
in their amber infinite.
When the wind tapped,
the waves flapped their feathers
and spread into
a migration of curly black lines
on a child’s drawing,
choppy pattern after choppy pattern,
wave conforming to wave
into a wallpaper covering
algae, flotsam, dead bricks, dead stone,
until the irregular birds changed the flow.
Be it the duck that draped a dress
behind in a V-shaped groove,
or the pudding-plump coots
who gently honked, imprinting
flat bubbles on water.
They live in the reflection of Life.
Fringed by feathers like icy mountaintops
and dead fish bloated on pollution,
an Irn Bru bottle imitates the nature it killed.
An orange bread packet is ignored by the mallard
for the tragedy it brought to town.
It’s a flat town, a houseless town,
but still a moving community of
twig islets and breadcrumb empires.
Fringing on their utopia is us,
us standing still from dry grey pavement
The Local Loch, August 2014 (27th), BI enter the trees.
Between the dozing leaves,
hugging canopy and soothing shade
I awe at a swan bathe.
Cruiseliner, white, pure, naked
graceful, living china.
Seven others chat by the hidden soil shore.
They see me, spread out ornamentally,
politely move away
and then fly
with curved ceramic blades
ready to pierce gravity’s oppression.
I've found Peace.
StarsThe stars in the sky
Glow like fireflies
In the thin veil of the night
Pale glow to be seen
His brilliant beauty
Charm the gods
I can feel the chill on her shallow breath
And the color's draining from her youthful face
She's bleeding out, I tell you
In red, yellow, and orange
And there ain't a single thing we can do
She'll want to be buried just like her mother
Laid to rest in a simple white coffin
No roses set on her grave
It's not warming
But it's final
Even as the rest of the world
Collapses into her absence
Perhaps she knows
Perhaps she's always known
Citron SunriseDimples accompany her smile,
like children opening their first birthday present
or wise women reminiscing.
Morning fog, sighing over the hills,
calling a lost friend.
Soft, unrelenting voice,
tart like lemon cheesecake,
softened by cream ravines
and crumbling mountains.
Canary wings in flight,
yellow haze seducing fireflies,
taking us away to
beginning and end.
The ViodThe darkness is surrounding me.
Looking left and right is this dark depth of nothing.
I am not sure where to go because all i see is black.
Getting confuse just walking and maybe even in place.
I hope this is a dream, because i don't want to live here anymore.
Continue to just seeing all but nothing, and getting scared inside.
Just waiting to explode and scream out my inner demons.
Saying that this isn't so.
I don't want this to be my end.
Wondering and wondering to no avail.
Going more insane by the minute.
Trying to look deep inside me.
Hoping and striving for a light or a way out.
Starting to wonder more and more if their even is a way out.
But this walking doesn't do any good.
So i sit and wait, while my madness take over.
Nothing to see out here but on the inside.
Thinking about what i must have done wrong in order to escape.
While also thinking that their must be a light that will spark and shine the way out.
This can't be the end, so i guess i just have to look forwa
The MoonNight Sky Black as Pitch
Startling Diamond Moon
A Quilt of Stars and a Stitch
Morning Comes Too Soon
A Cheshire Smile in The Sky
Clever Grin To See
A Wispy Cloud Shields My Eye
And Takes Takes The Moon From Me.
RainLooking into the sky,
I watch every tear fall
ever so slightly from the heavens.
"Why are you sad?"
The sky answers with a thunderous boom.
The sun hides away,
almost as if it were afraid of the sky.
It's so cold.
I stand in the rain,
in wait for the sun to come out again.
In the meantime though,
I let the tiny drops of ice
shatter on my bare skin.
Warmth no longer exists.
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'
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More