| My most recent poem. Critique is appreciated as always. |
Brother
Newest
BrotherNow the door is open, waiting- Cheap ink preserved on worthless foreign paper- The stairs are listening intently, expectant- His colours have been once again pressed and aired- Logs in the hearth &nbsBrother
by ~darkestpoetrylover
Tainted BloodI bleed words from my veins The knife beside me stained With lines of hopeless hope. Inky blemishes spread across my skin Transforming me into a demon of writtenTainted Blood
Words. Words.
Words. Always words, always lines, Line after line marching away Into the bleak horizon of
A page that is soiled By my hand, by my touch. Love, hate, sorrow, contempt, Every emotion mankind has ever known All bleeding in a black torrent Of stinging fire that sets the page alight Reducing it to charred ashes, That are soon scattered on the wind Of my taint
by ~darkestpoetrylover
Random Favourites
Don't Want To ForgetDon’t Want to Forget December 24, 2008Don't Want To Forget
She tucked a stray stand of hair behind her ear with a quick annoyed exhalation of breath. Gently, using the softest pads of her fingertips she felt the small piece of plastic rotate beneath her fingers. The camera lens slowly slid into focus. Cars zoom past and she follows them, rotating her arm and head to keep them in focus. They are as clear as day while the bridges’ supports and other surrounding cars are blurred and distorted to the point of being unrecognizable. She wonders who is in each car and where they are going, but in the end she knows she doesn’t really ca
by =Kaiminden
Death to PoetryDeath comes knocking On my door today, Telling me I have But one day to stay. And I have my goodbyes to say To everyone on this world. I have yet to make A million dollars, I have it all, though. In my head The words flow endlessly Into an organized poem, Where I can be in peace. My gray hair Is a wispy cloud on my head, It feels like leaving now. Standing on the window sill, I shout my secrets to the street, For if a dead man tells no tales The tales would end with me. I have a final brush with the reaper And he tellsDeath to Poetry
by *ddrcoke21
I Was Not PreparedI was sitting tenderly Tenderly Tenderly Dreaming away this Saturday evening. I was walking timidly Timidly Timidly Towards the beams Of moonlight Emitting from your face-- And I was assured That maybe Every other Tuesday I would be hidden away I’d be safe Dreaming of one of those Sunday afternoons You always reminded me of- Those carefree moments When all the world Was a Brilliant glare Of satisfactory Momentary PledgesI Was Not Prepared
Of forever and days And days and days They passed,
by ~Orfim
Fave News
- 47 SimplyJanuary is almost here! - Dec 30, 2008
- 103 Inked-Page Literature Contest - Oct 3, 2008
Shedding Skins
EagerDevious Info
- Current Residence: musically doomed avenue
- Interests: thinking, writing, photographing, reading...wasting time
- Favourite movie: armageddon
- Favourite band or musician: anything 80's
- Favourite genre of music: 80's glam metal/glam rock/rock ballads!!!
- Favourite artist: !
- Favourite poet or writer: tolkein
- Favourite photographer: that guy who takes pcitures
- MP3 player of choice: the ipod which rules
- Shell of choice: sea
- Wallpaper of choice: painted wallpaper
- Favourite game: do i have to choose?
- Favourite cartoon character: that one guy...he's a cartoon
- Personal Quote: I'd cry right now, but i have to sneeze
- Tools of the Trade: me music thoughts
- Email: wordypoet2@hotmail.com
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Have a very good day fellow artist
(total steal)
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[O.o] - Orly?
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