*Past and Present*One hundred years ago*Past and Present*2 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
When summer cast golden glow
Weeping willows, river side
Cast gentle shade, punts could glide.
Mild, quiet summer day
Strawberry smell and smell of hay
Silken dress on a boat
Shaded by parasol, afloat.
Today loud music rocks river
Weeping willows really weep
T/shirt slogans, blue jean rule
Now we’re noisy but very cool.
Hidden TreasureHidden TreasureHidden Treasure1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Men seek treasure below the sea
They dive far below the waves
They travel far and away
Spending all hours of the day
Searching in mountain caves
I climb mountains just for fun
I sail the seas for pleasure
I spend my time in other ways
I don't need to hunt for my treasure
Because she came to me
Tracks in DuskGrandeur fallTracks in Dusk1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Where the light reflects
Swayed to awe
As the day injects
With a burning ray
The smallest track
Of the smallest shade
Once her breadth is plain
To a naked claim
From the shed of night
Where the sun aligns
Shown to be
Where no face detracts
All the ink enacts
Left is harsh
Under heatless flame
A single mark
With a single name
World in sharpest phase
To extend the blaze
Save the prints they make
In time they share
But a single fate
Lives they felt
In the safest days
All to know
Has long since escaped
Time will pass
And a history played
By size of acts
And their shadows made...
GatekeeperDrawn by a single angelic fingerGatekeeper5 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
As white as cotton clouds in morn
The flesh a child's in innocence
Where all its grace is well adorned
Veins of blue as bowl above
Where overflown the rain descends
A healing joy hid by that cloth
To ask for time to make amends
Fabric flown in wind through sky
Two halves crack the door
And all is seen in sightless peace
To feel a moment so implored
Expend an energetic wave
The site where there is shown
From inside out exuberate
Touched by one's own
There is a line now held in place
Behind which mirrors shine
Reflect back the present gazes
Who drive to ask before their time
Only be a part of passage
Depression's saving needed
When pouring gifts lie mouldering
And oldest wisdom unheeded
When eyes are rivers in themselves
Come in the loudest spike
And silent yawn the gates awake
To coo the crying souls alike
Imagined paint will always be
The master's tools to colour all
The mind a much creative being
That needs some help after a fall
So come and pierce the
Self-EulogyYour winter’s hammock has a seam of snowSelf-Eulogy1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
from when your cloud-capped head weaved crystal webs.
Poetic imprints, angels inked in cold
are memories etched in your paper corpse.
You left some things, but words were not your force.
Figuring it out was the breeze. Your folds,
however, soiled your time and what is left,
your ash bed I bought, is a seal of slough.
In dreams, you draw the sewing of slain narwhals
to constellations. I console them. Have
you solved your ode that flails with paradox?
I’ve found your fields of ice, but I was lost.
In summer, you’ve stolen my voice when half
your winter’s hammock is a seal of slough.
The ConductorMy body is an Orchestra,The Conductor1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
He is the conductor.
Like a chemist with a formula,
Or architects with a structure.
The brass knocks me off my feet,
as he grabs the strings of my heart.
Throws me in a front row seat,
and takes the stage like Mozart.
Flutes and Clarinets,
Speak soft like warm dreams.
The French horns and Cornet,
Create subtle running streams.
He cues the drum,
However none play.
The hands to numb,
Lack of words to say.
Never once have you seen
Never once have I saw.
When love comes between
The Conductor and his Orchestra.
Death's LoveHe obtained a frightening manifestationDeath's Love2 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And held the power of creation
Without creating a new individual but becoming something with a strong relation
That kept a sturdy foundation,
As his cells connected, broke apart, and were destroyed during his formation.
Before me he stood, light lurking within his eyes, speaking of temptation.
Then, the déjà vu was overpowering, a suffocating and heartbreaking sensation.
Death played with an individual that people see as a cremation
And how I see as a pure, devilish damnation,
Where I can only vision the house it lived in, being eaten in a conflagration.
The appearance, however, delivered me into salvation,
That, alone, was enough to wash away any frustration.
The longer I stared, the more I studied, there was an alteration
In the depths of my concentration,
Where I began to piece together an understanding of admiration
That Death had somewhere in preservation.
His corpse-like figure had the power of reincarnation
And how he changed for
The Guardians of Childhood (Poem)The Guardians of Childhood (Poem)4 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The spirits of an innocent childhood, from long ago
Arise and always protecting, the innocent
Children who’s dreams are filled with hope, with belief
With happiness as golden sand, takes the shape
Of their deepest dreams, their deepest goals,
Their deepest desires, as the sand takes on these,
A small, silent golden man, sandman, who holds the magic
Sand, that fills the kids with dreams.
He is the childhood guardian, that protects children’s dreams,
Their innocence as they sleep, like soundly angels,
Smiling in the dark. This was the guardian I use to always be told
About, in my mother’s stories. His golden sand illuminating
The pitch black night.
Another childhood guardian, she is the one who
Protects a child’s memories, and will always hold them
Dear, whose little fairies collect their teeth without
A sound, she is Toothania, the guardian, that is as kind
And as silent as her fairies. Always letting them know
Where they can find the children’s baby teeth.
*Sneak peek* ~This is going to include 2 excerpts from two poems in My best work, which now has a title!! So here it is!! The two excerpts, and the announcement of the title!!!!!...................................................................... ........................................................................................................................................... .... "Immortal Conflict of Your Heart." XD Too long a wait, just to find out that the title isn't that cool.~*Sneak peek* 6 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Excerpt from first poem: War
"...I am only going to lose.
Even if all the enemies are smited and dead,
I will lose.
I will lose my sanity,
and my humanity.
I will be nothing,
but a void of heat..."
Excerpt from The ninth poem: Shades of Purple, Ft. :iconBlazedragon6145:
"...What I expected was not what I got,
A hug, not a yell.
A caring heart,
Not an evil demon.
The claws I got use to,
and before I could understand,
Dark CloudThis dark cloud watches over me.Dark Cloud1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
When I am let alone he comforts me.
He soothes my pains away.
Protects me in my time of need.
This dark cloud watches over me.
When I've been hurt he's always been there
He helped me build these high walls
Protected i feel inside
This dark cloud watches over me.
When the storm rages wildly inside he calms it.
He covers me from the tears I cry.
Loving of all my flaws.
This dark cloud watches over me.
When i get hurt he becomes angry.
He lashes out to whoever is there.
He scares everyone away.
This dark cloud watches over me.
I feel trapped here with him.
He pushes me farther.
He fills my mind with sorrow and loss.
This dark cloud watches over me.
When I hate myself he tells me why.
He's leaking into my emotions.
He makes me feel worthless.
This dark cloud watches over me.
When i wonder my purpose he tells me none.
He gives me the tools for my own demise.
He makes me feel dead inside...
Splashes of a RainbowSplashes of coloursSplashes of a Rainbow1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
across my sheet of paper
creating mini images
completely unplanned caper
They look so bright here
splattered in a line now
like a kaleidoscope
colours of a rainbow
Each splash of ink here
forms into their own shape
all so very different
let your mind eye escape
As each drop of ink
spreads across the surface
the colours merge together
these patterns have no purpose
So enjoy the splashes
across my paper here
exploring all the beauty
as these pictures appear...!
© Lissie Bull 2014 All rights reserved
Photo titled "Harmony" taken by Fiend-V found on DeviantArt
Vulnerable YouthPaper hearts from bright pink tissue meant for presents,Vulnerable Youth45 minutes ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
fanciful butterflies from orange dashed cardboard,
five petaled flowers danced around the sentence
of simplicity, ultimately to discard.
Tender thoughts from censored, guarded minds,
boldly do the simple stubby fingers strive to hide
the gift from Mommy, so that she can't find
the secret depth of the darkest snide.
The gentle pressure of acknowledging gestures
even the meaningless thank you cards
meant to send you on an emotional adventures,
only to be shredded on cynical hearts' shards.
But it is the thought that counts,
those sweet little eyes haven't yet been renounced.
The Day She Falls Off Her ThroneToday she stands tallThe Day She Falls Off Her Throne6 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
On a mountain of deceit
But one day she'll fall
She'll be tossed off of her feet
And when this day comes
The day her reign is put to an end
She will have nothing left but crumbs
Nobody to attend
And whose fault will it be?
Her Mother's, Father's, or her own?
Perhaps all three
On the joyous day that she falls off her thrown
OnlineOutreachingOnline12 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Most LikelyThrown over the cliffMost Likely3 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
by a billion what ifs,
because I simply couldn't be sure.
A shadow of doubt
was still lurking about
and had rendered me too insecure.
Grasping for certainty,
scared of what could be.
I'm rapidly turning obsessed.
I just need to know
how it's going to go.
Maybe then I'll be able to rest.
Please Don't GoIt seems tonight I can't sleepPlease Don't Go4 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
It doesn't matter how long I count sheep
There's just something I need to tell
And I can only pray it goes well
What I want, I have to forgo
There's just something you should know
All I'm asking is to get this off my chest
Then I promise I'll give it a rest
I know we've only recently met
But I'm still slightly upset
Because I know you'll soon be going away
And that thought always ruins my day
I know I shouldn't get attached
But my feelings have already begun to hatch
So now I feel I must confide
That I just want you to stay by my side
And I'm not surprised if the answer is no
But just understand that I could let you easily go
So please just listen to my plea
All I want is for you to stay with me
The PookaThe day had happened to be quite sunny.The Pooka5 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Then it began to rain and I found it less than funny.
It was at the bus stop I sat.
I had no umbrella, just a simple hat.
For hours and hours I had to wait.
The night came and it was getting fairly late.
I grumbled and shivered, soaked to the bone!
'Twas then I suddenly felt as if I weren't alone.
An old man had come to be next to me.
Where he came from I could not see.
He asked of me a most peculiar thing.
He wanted a story, which I found most baffling!
I thought I might oblige him any who.
There was nothing else I could think to do.
I related a tale I heard as a young lad.
It was told to me by my grandad.
The story of the Pooka, a creature my grandad claimed to have met.
It came out after the rain when the sun had finally set.
By tradition he said it took the shape of a dark horse with luminous gold eyes.
However, of a rabbit, dog, goat, or even old man it could also take the guise.
You would not believe the old coot!
He actually tried to ride
The Bleeding SoundIt can't be louderThe Bleeding Sound6 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
The sound tearing through
And I can't be prouder
The sound and I are two
It just isn't reaching me
Not harsh enough to come in
I want to hear not see
Unless this is a sin
Let the pain and happiness sync
The only way I'll reach my high
All its meaning and artistic tune
Form with me a link
And between us a tie
And if not, leave it opportune
For Kelley - Happy Birthday! (for the 11th)Even though it’s hard for me to get back on the net,For Kelley - Happy Birthday! (for the 11th)6 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Your ‘punny’ jokes and characters, I never will forget.
Your writing skills are oh-so great! I’d love to read much more,
But so much thought in every piece must make your brain quite sore!
Working so hard everyday to improve all of your art,
You really are an inspiration with a loving heart.
Pierry and Tiira are both amazingly thought out,
And Velva is so super cute with her fluffy snout.
I wish I could get online more so we could have a chat,
Even if it’s just about your naughty little cat.
I love to listen to your tales and every little groan
And every chat is really fun, even if it’s just a moan.
September the eleventh – it is your special day!
And so I guess you know, I just have one more thing to say,
Have a Happy Birthday! A fun-filled, super day!
I wish you all the luck and love and hope things go your way!
Sorrow of the MountainStood I on the mountain pathway and staredSorrow of the Mountain1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
At the peak that cut in the sun like razors.
The wind blew at the dust of past footprints
And all the trees swayed in fluid motion.
Then that wind brought in smoke of a fire.
It filled my nostrils and bothered my eyes
As I looked up at the peak, now engulfed
In torrid flame. Soon my tears were not all
From the smoke, but of my own scorched sorrow
And the poor mountain suffered as did I.
NeedlesThe meat is cold from bloodless lustNeedles9 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
My organs are damaged
Path be taken down range-
-And end with chilling wall
Forest of needle spires climb
My height cannot ask
Deem the stars they point-
-For reverence physical
Destroyed as winter comes
Invested into my stock
I am bought and brought home
With no escape from the lock
Needle sew a coat of iron
Black with the char left by
Remembrance make me a scion
And kindle a soul inside
Lids have shut and no key breaks
I cannot see between blades
Cut the night to ribbons-
-Now banners to losing way
Imposing in my blindness wait
My feet are icy cold
The forward march is death incarnate-
-Though I am numb to catch
A fabric stolen mask and clothe
The boundary pointed shed
Once streamers bleeding dry wove
The semblance of disjointed ends
No try can match the mind at work
For ochre has my pallor drained
This raiment bears a doubting murk
Through glacier impassive face
My asking wanes with setting freeze
The armour frozen bites
A pleading body already w
Ode to HoennBring back the third generationOde to Hoenn1 day ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Have the tropical region return
With oceans that are sparkling
and volcanos that burn
Let the age old battle commence again
One of nature; land and sea
Track down ancient legends
Go and set them free
Search the rivers, the tall grass
Be brave, be bold
You must find and battle
creatures new and old
Meet friends from the past
and ones yet to come
Remember the music that you loved
The melodies you used to hum
Ten long years I've waited
Everyone has been
It gives me great joy to say
Welcome back, Hoenn
The Roaming InkThe moonlight and a book are poor company,The Roaming Ink2 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Especially compared to the way you comforted me,
Still I won't stop turning these pages, underneath the sky,
Soon it'll be five in the morning again and I'll do nothing but die.
A book holds many secrets, hidden between every page,
All of them are lacking compared to being with you when we're aged,
But sometimes I read to avoid the fact that this will never happen,
Which is why soon it'll be five in the morning again and my hands will be blackened.
I'll have blackened hands from the roaming ink,
That carried me to shore, pushed me in, and watched me sink,
Sink into a world of unknown mysteries and unfathomable creatures,
A world where no one could touch me, not you, or even the preachers.
Roaming ink is what's stained my heart and it spread to my lungs,
Now once more I'm stabbed from the deadly words from their sharpened tongues,
It'll eventually be five in the morning and I'll be sitting here and I'll think;
"All of this because of you, and t
A New LightBrightA New Light2 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I can see
Everywhere around me
My eyes are open
Colors surround me
Sounds engulf me
People travel to and fro
I was blind
I took things for granted
Now I can see
The world around me
The adventures waiting to be grasped
The people waiting to be met
Waiting to be solved
All in a new light