|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
LIMERICK FOR OLD ROMEO Clodia, Catullus wrote Rome,
that you could but open your home
to my swift hot invasion,
and don't mar the occasion,
with lauds to that dolt - Cicero! Hm!
199TH DECADE EXTRACT It opened its three hundred and first eye, a misted lens in the face of stone. A pupil appeared, a black fly staring out and down through amber. There it moved, left, hesitantly right, then down again. Then sank back leaving the glass eye blind with damp light. After a moment, suddenly, the thing returned, dashed through the glass, toppled, fell out and down, past three hundred closed eyes, down. The concrete features hardly shrugged when the fragile shadow kicked the pavement, shattering near-soundlessly.
Seemingly massless, with boring slowness, a shadow left its crowd, caterpillared towards the shards. Now a matt piece of reflection topped its headhair, unwillingly lingering. The tortoise motion ended; a shell now stood absorbing the fleeing life this carcass had sipped up in its socket. The standing shadow stubbed the slumped one once with its foot, then its hair shook its reluctant reflection from side to side.
"She didn't even
twitterlight oblivioni remember we had a picnic once,
on a melting summer day.
the roses spilled their fragrance,
the petals spiralling away.
we spent the morning in the sunlight,
and the evening under the moon.
the fireflies flew their drunken flight
while the lovebirds began to croon.
a glassful of spicy chai,
a pocketful of sky,
that day i picked a bouquet of happinesses,
just for you and I.
EightThe whistling wind blows with a sweet aroma,
Causing flower and blade of grass to bow.
The clouds hid the sun for a moment,
But the glory of the day would not allow.
As the birds rang out in harmony,
Further along, in a piney forest,
Waved prickly needles and spiny cones
Swaying with the sound of the chorus.
And there, in a meadow, on soft earth I sat
Looking across the way at his teasing eyes.
He smiled at me, then turned away
As my heart screamed out with anxious cries.
It rises from down within me-
My love for him, I can't deny;
I cannot hide what's true inside
No matter how hard I truly try.
He takes up my every thought-
I'm surely falling in love-
While being with this boy
Under deep blue skies above.
Forgive Me, My LoveForgive me, my love, for I had loved you too much
I always did know you could not give nothing back
I wish I had kept all the feelings in my heart,
And just accepted there is a lot that I lack.
Forgive me, my love, I hope you hold me no grudge;
I never did wish your affections be denied;
My longing for you must have exhausted your soul
Thus I never got the attention I desired.
Forgive me, my love, it was my heart that was weak;
It often did fall for ones who could not catch it;
It would be ready to rise and climb up again,
Only when it had found someone else to break it.
Forgive me, my love, it was my mind that was meek;
It seldom did speak but when it did it saved me;
It was mute when I felt like I did not need it,
Hence making me helpless as I could ever be.
Forgive me, my love, we both know it was my fault;
I only did stop loving when it tore all our seams;
I had always been told that it would hurt us both,
And that you would not spare me any of your dreams.
Forgive me, my love, if
There might be usYou might take take a walk with him by the river.
Yeah, he might just take you for a walk.
And you might admire blooming cherry slivers.
And he might take your hand and even sweet talk.
You might go to movies with him, once in a while.
Yeah, he might just take you to movies sometimes.
He might make you laugh, you might make him smile.
And he might even kiss you when the hall dimes.
You might sit and talk to him for hours.
Yeah, he might just listen to you talk.
You might bake him cookies, he might buy you flowers.
You might even feel safe when he kisses you goodnight.
You might share a week with him; or a month, or two.
Yeah, he might just let you stay around.
You might even think you can make him love you.
He might even let you believe you are right.
To give him your whole world, you might even dare.
Yeah, he might just say 'I love you' a couple of times.
For some time, he might even pretend he cares.
For some time, you might even believe he does.
Cinnamon Skin The scent of cinnamon strong,
tickling my nostrils,
playful and dangerous.
and a water,
a sanctuary to a certain few.
The perfume that heats my cheeks,
and brightens my days.
Glorious in its tan,
and sweet in its flavor.
Your cinnamon skin,
With each kiss,
your flavor sticks on my tongue,
and the sun shines brighter.
Endless CyclePush back the tears.
Swallow the pain.
Hold it all in,
Until driven insane.
Stop your heart,
By letting love in.
Better ForgottenYou keep asking me questions
But you're holding my breath
All I want is a rescue
But I'm drowning in death
All the flowers are wilting
As the dark grows around
Thought the ice might be melting
But it just fell to the ground
Had your own misconceptions
Of what this might be like
With so many directions
How could we both find the light
All the sweetness has rotten
And it's bitter and tough
It's all better forgotten
Than forced on for this love
LOVE, SHE CAME TO TOWNSo much a man has locked fast, down inside.
He dives through days, comes only up to gasp,
to flail and try to pause, never to grasp
what he has lost, no doubts on what to hide.
But then that word, picked up in town one day.
A voice of hope came lancing through one's sleep.
"Love", it said; a timbre smooth and deep
made one's head turn - all blinders fell away:
She moves and talks among us, while her breast
sports ribbons bound invisibly to all,
each word, each movement draws my heart up there,
no jealousy nor fear is left to bear,
the secret inner door released. I call
her radiant wavelength, and forget the rest.
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
Keep in Touch!