ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
In the beginning of this entity known as 'us',
when you were still but a fascinating mystery
little by little, the soul you opened up for me
brought a spring to my life;
your laughter was the first sparrow's flight,
your whisper the southern breeze
your smile a sprouting daffodil
and your touch
a heatstroke I craved for,
I basked in it – forgetting,
that seasons change because they must
Became summer, became autumn
and now that the house you live in
has grown watertusks on its eaves
you've become the Wintersun
and I am the Earth that revolves around you
on this elliptical track I was placed on
I'm further apart from you than ever before
between us the light-years that no longer carry your warmth
and days that shrink
until they no longer exist
when you were still but a fascinating mystery
little by little, the soul you opened up for me
brought a spring to my life;
your laughter was the first sparrow's flight,
your whisper the southern breeze
your smile a sprouting daffodil
and your touch
a heatstroke I craved for,
I basked in it – forgetting,
that seasons change because they must
Became summer, became autumn
and now that the house you live in
has grown watertusks on its eaves
you've become the Wintersun
and I am the Earth that revolves around you
on this elliptical track I was placed on
I'm further apart from you than ever before
between us the light-years that no longer carry your warmth
and days that shrink
until they no longer exist
Literature
Largesse
Imagine spraying the donation box grey,
Making it a gravestone and
Bow as if to pray;
But instead inscribe "He gave generously"
On the face of Paternoster square.
Remember to strip the cube clean,
Don your human skin
And bring our carrion
Luggage to be picked apart upon arrival.
The crows would like us to queue at gate nine,
And fill our pockets with cash,
Diplomatic immunity works well, so
We'll be patient until we crash.
The Empire of the Crow is a devious place,
So please remember, Sir, to keep
Antebellum in mind, we can't maintain this pace.
Literature
parentheses
i was going to ask you to hold back my hair
if i started to heave
but it's cut in mourning
for the fawns dying under the chalky
moist hands of children,
in mourning for newspaper print
threatening suicide off the tips of your eyelashes,
saying things like
i could fall faster
i could convert more
i could shine my face brighter than your sands
Literature
Prompt
A man stood by his window, all crossed arms and tired eyes. His dreams of flying like the birds had disappeared long ago. The night was swallowing him whole, but so was nonchalance. It was a suitable escape.
The cars ran down the street, their lights distorted in the post-storm puddles on the asphalt; the water spewed by their wheels rained on umbrellaed youths. It hurt to look at the vehicles crashing down the highway, crazy and epileptic and dancing in the rain. They were nothing more than a force of nature, he assured himself, suddenly cold and mechanical. They were machines with people trapped inside and what they did was uncontrollable.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Please don't download my poems!
I had the idea for this poem while driving my car in a beautiful, cold sunshine. A few days it simmered in my mind and this is how it ended up.
I would like to know if the beginning is too... Um. Well, too anything, really. I'm worried it's not as creative as the second half of the poem and falls flat. But do feel free to comment on anything you think could use improving.
I had the idea for this poem while driving my car in a beautiful, cold sunshine. A few days it simmered in my mind and this is how it ended up.
I would like to know if the beginning is too... Um. Well, too anything, really. I'm worried it's not as creative as the second half of the poem and falls flat. But do feel free to comment on anything you think could use improving.
© 2010 - 2024 noirre
Comments35
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
I don't think the beginning is too anything. It's straightforward/clear, so if you're more of an ambiguous writer (one who likes to challenge the reader with riddles and whatnot), that may not please you.
As for me, I do enjoy ambiguous writing, but I also love poems that have a bit of ambiguity as well as some sections that are more straightforward. I like to know a bit about what the poet is aiming for.
I think in this poem, you have a good balance.
I like this bittersweet poem
One question, why a daffodil?
As for me, I do enjoy ambiguous writing, but I also love poems that have a bit of ambiguity as well as some sections that are more straightforward. I like to know a bit about what the poet is aiming for.
I think in this poem, you have a good balance.
I like this bittersweet poem
One question, why a daffodil?