| Deviant Login | Shop | Join deviantART for FREE  |
Take the Tour  |
The Scientist4 years ago in Classic Portraits
More Like This
Sweet DiscoveriesSweet DiscoveriesSweet Discoveries4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I turn back the clock 10 hours – take ten steps backwards
Standing on the front porch of your house…
---
The sun seems bright in your eyes and hair.
You open the door with a shy smile and a “Come on in”
And take me to the TV and we play Mario Kart on your Nintendo 64.
Somehow, I think you are better than my cousin, Chase
Even though he is twelve and you are nine.
“We can play with real toys, too.”
So we build a giant castle out of Legos
(mostly green ones)
With room enough just for the two of us.
And create a whole world of pirates and knights
And undersea explorers on your bedroom
The Fella: A Halloween TaleOne All-Hallow's-Eve so dreary, I did homework, bored and weary,The Fella: A Halloween Tale4 years ago in Spooky Stories More Like This
Over many a heavy volume of biology and lore
While I studied, still and sleepy, I felt a presence, close and creepy
As if someone had come to greet me, greet me sitting at my chore
"'Tis just a dream," I muttered, "So sleepy and about to snore –
Only this and nothing more."
But a devil-beast appearing in my work soon interfering,
Straight it wheeled my desk chair in front of laptop and Explorer
Then upon the cushion sinking, Fe'la betook himself to linking
Webpage unto webpage, winking as he led me to procrastination's door –
Will this fiend so cos
Lewis and ClarkLewis and ClarkLewis and Clark4 years ago in Open More Like This
As we stood overlooking the great Pacific
I cannot deny the incredible sadness that I felt.
For months we had journeyed,
For months we had trodden and suffered and
Died, even,
And suddenly we had reached the unarguable end.
The breakers crashed and roared,
While smaller, smoother waves tumbled harmlessly onto the white sand.
Salt wind, tears in our eyes, oh –
The sight of a storm out at sea.
Camp that night was silent as death,
For, now that we had done what we came to do
What was left?
We would return the way we came,
Through a fresh young land, but no longer a virgin one.
We had crossed one infinity and
Keeping 4 years ago in Geology
More Like This
PurgatoriosI have sat in the mouth of Satan and heard his words,Purgatorios3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Tasted his fear.
You also were there and rushed headlong into the black hole.
The sand caught fire and we ran,
Naked, noble, slicked limbs and flashing eyes.
I rejoiced in my torment, and still I ran.
"Sorrow, not loathing has fixed itself so deep within my heart.
It will be long before it is stripped away."
Time slowed and we were forbidden to run.
They ran around us, but you grasped me from behind
And I could not kiss you.
Higher we climbed, past greedy and virtuous,
Lovers and killers and tyrants, all
Left behind.
I am not sure if lingered long in the place where sins are
Before and After4 years ago in Humorous
More Like This
InconstancyInconstancyInconstancy5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Sometimes she pretends to be angry
Because she says she is incapable of being serious
Like when she stuck a pretzel up her nose
For no other reason than
That I was trying to stop her
And other times she makes fun of how she looks
Poking fun at her nose (which isn’t that big, honestly)
But she decided to stop her teasing
When she confessed she could actually believe me
When I told her she was gorgeous
She loves my younger sister and is afraid of the oldest
She speaks freely with my father but is shy around my mother
Sometimes she concludes she’s said too much
And shuts herself up
When she hasn’t said m
AbsenseAbsenceAbsense4 years ago in Open More Like This
There is something truly refreshing
About letting it all go.
About ripping off years of metaphors,
Peeling back each comparison, which,
however adequate it may be
Is just compensation, clutter,
Covering fear
Of the beautiful absence.
The moment is useless
If we never let down to the heart of the matter,
Which is what no metaphor can capture,
No simile can define,
And all the likeness in the world cannot tame.
Creamy fresh pages of lies
Are nothing special. What makes this unique
Is its reality. One which says it as it sees it.
Sometimes ugly
But always, ever and only itself.
It’s the art of being what we me
Junkyard Angel 5 years ago in Statues & Monuments
More Like This
Day 2 - DetritusI squint my eyes as you kiss my freckled faceDay 2 - Detritus8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
my sunstreaked hair out behind me like a banner
As I emerge from the lake with foam and seaweed clinging to my calves.
I make a face. You laugh.
Longing is a savory dish we must sit down to dine,
even as we cling together
in a tired knot with mouths that taste of lemonade and alcohol.
I whisper in your ear “I don’t want you to go.”
The night before we left a storm broke
with rain and thunder, and lightning webbed across the sky like lace.
I came to where you slept,
weaving myself into your arms.
This is the detritus of summer:
pearlescent driftwood graspe
BrillianceI wasn't sure if I was falling asleep or drowning. Pastor Abilay had just reached the third point of this three-point outline and I was fading quickly. "The devil's 15 minutes," my father often called it. He would sit rigidly at the head of the dining room table after every Saturday dinner and warn us that just as the pastor reaches the place where Scripture is applied to our lives, we start to drift off due to the devil's influence. I always did, and it terrified me.Brilliance1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Pastor Abilay's sermons were an odd blend of clinical Calvinistic theology combined with the self-assured charisma of a leader whose word was law. His sermons always made me fe
Three Hours MoreSeven pm and it’s cold and emptyThree Hours More5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And there’s a line of carts to be taken inside
A job so special, only I’m made to do it
Bright orange. Bright orange in the parking lot.
Somebody put bright orange into this grey sky.
Dinner could’ve been somewhere besides the kitchen
And my bones could be less damp.
A pulled muscle screams at me for moving my leg
At least I’m being paid
…I assume.
Haven’t seen a paycheck yet.
Rain drips off the bridge of my nose
Drat.
Sixty miles as only as far
As it takes to get there.
Sixty miles is more time than I have.
With the homework waiting for me when I g
Day 15 - SiltThere is a downward pull that begins slowly –Day 15 - Silt7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Forty years of fine red silt cease flowing through your veins
And settle like sedimentary rock.
Things, and you, begin to taste of copper.
Lavender mists condense as you walk out to fetch the paper
The kettle is whistling or the coffee roiling when you return to the kitchen.
Your lover is waiting, his beard and hair greying slightly:
Sometimes he still kisses you like he did when you were twenty three.
You start to spend your evenings in the ochre light
Of sloppily-painted sunsets which begin around the time the theme for Final Jeopardy fades out.
Coffee cups are washed, sinks drained.
Ev
WanderersWanderersWanderers5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The proof of a cold day is in its loneliness
In the chilly-damp bench with moss and curling dead leaves
At its base
Crab apples underfoot
Sullen silver descends upon the empty football field
With the trill warning of a construction truck echoing from
Across over in the town
…
The wind is my friend
Because it also does not know where it is going
It's Over There4 years ago in Fashion Portraits
More Like This
How We Make MusicHow We Make MusicHow We Make Music5 years ago in Open More Like This
Never was I decisive enough to twist open an Oreo;
My
Hesitation
Broke the measure in pieces
(A deft flick, a quick wrist
Result in two halves, icing on cookie –
An elegant disassembly.)
My fingers weren’t made for shuffling cards
Neither deft
Nor dexterous
Slow, painful sorting sharps and flats
(You shuffle cards, sheets on the stand
Playing spades and clubs,
Constructing a card-house of notes.)
Chess? I don’t know what the black ones
Do or the white
The rules are beyond me
But I could pick them up and move them
(You know how many spaces this way
And a rook from a bishop from an eighteen
On a Kissa in the SpringtimeA bright, clear noise in springtime gladeOn a Kissa in the Springtime3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Long lingers in the forest's shade,
As cheerful Whitman keeps his dance
With leap, and crawl – look now he wades
Into the babbling crystal brook.
He blinks blue eyes to catch a look,
Back arched, tail curled, a regal stance
To see cream fur and twilight fleck.
Vain Kissa! Do you love your race,
Its every movement filled with grace?
Will you pose and primp, and prance,
Or lick your paws and clean your face?
He flutters wings and winks his eyes
That brim with mischief and surprise,
Looks sideways with a tiny glance
And runs to chase some butterflies.
The wind can sense his cheerful
UntitledI turn over, leaf-like, before the coming storm.Untitled3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A gust of hot breeze and the wind chimes groan in hollow protest.
In the foreground, fireflies blink out.
The porch swing creeks.
It seems so far away, although its dark vapors nearly brush my hair;
The trees scarcely murmur.
Then I see the lightning! Majestic in violence
But dreadfully still.
Electricity, light, and heat fused into an instant's perfect crown!
The television muted and forgotten when you left the room,
Unnoticed.
What did the thunder say?
…It left no answer,
And its light only made the night seem darker.
No raindrops, no sound, it left me cynical and disintere
A Break Between LinesA Break Between LinesA Break Between Lines4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Much more than a simple Caesura between us
A preference for poetry Your mathematical mind cannot grasp.
Abstraction. Metaphor. To you, synesthesia.
Your numbers, restrictive - Not even a slant rhyme.
I write you some sonnets Your sequence, numerical.
Disconnect dividing Deciding to reach,
Integrating iambic To free verse, entwining
Octave and sest
People TalkPeople TalkPeople Talk5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
People talk and suspect things
They’re saying things about us
They insinuate, look, and smile
They watch and proclaim
“Romance is blossoming”
Not knowing our hearts, they know anyways
Not knowing our thoughts,
They tell
Others what we’re thinking
Maybe they’re right.
If the smile on my face matches
The smile on yours
Then they might be right
People watch and notice things
They’re staring at us
They hint at things with their smiles, and keep looking
They scrutinize for three minutes and proclaim
“Romance is blossoming”
Not knowing our feelings, they feel our hearts beating
Last Dance of the SeasonsLast Dance of the SeasonsLast Dance of the Seasons5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
So now November kisses him goodbye
With a touch whose love cannot endure
And Winter never knows the reason why
She hangs her head to golden tear-drops cry
On ground his sorrow washes white with hoar
So now November kisses him goodbye
Eternal promised love a weeping lie
No time-bound thing can last forevermore
And Winter never knows the reason why
He calls down all his armies from the sky
In wrath, his heart is brimming full of war
So now November kisses him goodbye
She shudders with a wail and strives to fly
The arms and fingers which she did adore
And Winter never knows the reason why
These
Sta.sh
