ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
modestly thaw deep
in solitude
from loving
praying and
now the shade
the lake, the moon
all its margins:
poetry.
sing it,
in an empty house
sing it
for weary hands,
for the ghost,
the maker,
all the spirit:
collected.
in solitude
from loving
praying and
now the shade
the lake, the moon
all its margins:
poetry.
sing it,
in an empty house
sing it
for weary hands,
for the ghost,
the maker,
all the spirit:
collected.
Literature
Paper-Thin Promises
the first time I caught sight of your
glistening, marble eyes,
I decided you disgust me.
I hate you the way I hate perfection:
merciless, like the snap of mantis jaws.
every fact of you is pretentious,
held high like you raise a middle finger.
You, the artist, always sculpting things,
tried to squeeze my malleable heart like white clay
and stash it in your pocket to rattle with stones.
paint me an unflinching self portrait, my dear:
this skyscraper of a boy shaking with anticipation
to build and destroy, build and destroy.
you sink in tooth and talon at first mention of beauty,
love-biting Aphrodite as though you were equals.
you're a statu
Literature
Dreamers
She reminds me that she's a dreamer
Her right hand delicately grips a pencil
as she's working equations on a TI-89 with her left
She looks up at me and smiles,
and there are stars, meteors,
spanning across the cosmos of her expression
her countenance reminds me to look up at the chalkboard
that's attempting to teach me how
to make verses sing from pages in a plain 8 by 11 notebook
and I am only armed with
a .7 pencil and a purple pen,
stolen from my older sister's pencil pouch
My hands are inches away from hers
from the desks side by side
like cars parallel parked on a side road
her equations confuse me
until she flips the
Literature
Pressure
Something broke.
A hard CRACK while sitting in
a soft chair. No pain registered.
The absence of it
is like watching explosions in space.
You follow the curve of your skull. You remember
how skulls are formed like tectonic plates.
Your head wants to be a planet,
volcanic, living, in change.
You continue to your left shoulder,
the one with all the problems.
But today, it has nothing to say.
Your rib cage moves
like oceanic waves, expecting a storm
that hasn't come.
You stand up,
homo erectus,
you consider your legs,
homo sapiens,
nothing feels wrong,
homo stabilis.
But you can break
more than your body.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
found poetry from circling words on a page.
i felt this read better without the visual.
comments are adored
~~
i felt this read better without the visual.
comments are adored
~~ © 2011 - 2024 formaniac
Comments14
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
i love this piece. especially the ending.