PersephoneShe's far fairer than anyone I’vePersephone3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
ever rested eyes upon.
She traverses far beyond the gates of Hades
without a single indication of fear.
As if fear cannot fix it's mark upon her,
she roams perilous but free, with lashes to die for,
and lips so lusciously thick and creamy.
She’s far beyond my reach..
Whilst she traverses my inner sanctum.
Not even the river Styx could keep her from me
As she disarmed me with a mere smile,
waving her lashes graciously.
I, petrified of her allure and charming sentience
Cannot help but wonder if she would be a deity
As she transfixes her everlasting mark upon my lips
I find myself thrown overboard Charon's ferry
And succumb to the cruelty of the Styx.
The Door of Our Cottage in the Western NightThey began on the beach, and a fire was raging upon the waters. A fire on one side of the world and one around the other. The earth had been unbruised, like an apple on a string, and then two stones had struck within a month, and everything had burned, slagged by deep space arrows. The wind was terrible. Everywhere was a howl with no direction.The Door of Our Cottage in the Western Night3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
There were a few lichen-like communities in damp places, where the sky had steamed by but seared little, lifted ravines and streams from the land, unwrinkled it, dragon braille revealed only in fire. There were a few who had been underground, and a few in the inland seas and lakes, a few in the deeper rivers, a few on the moon, watching it go.
The moon was hit four weeks later, and there were no lunatic survivors.
Once again, we were alone. The world had been smoked and there was a smell of it everywhere, and we walked on the remains of the crater's basin lake. It was involute
Asi te quieroYo te quiero feliz.Asi te quiero8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No con la alegría hipócrita del saludo en la mañana,
Sino con la euforia de quien despierta drogado de optimismo.
Te quiero libre.
Cabalgando en el viento, dejando extender tus alas,
Soñando sin miedos en el mañana y lo que vendrá.
La libertad es una mariposa decorando el cielo,
Y la felicidad es ella misma aleteando sobre tu hombro.
Para ser feliz, debes ser libre.
Y ser libre significa
Sueña tu futuro.
Planea tu camino.
Explora tu presente.
Imagina tus triunfos.
Arriesga hasta la vida.
Proyecta sin miedo.
Conquista tus anhelos.
Y por último Sonríe
El mundo te pertenece.
IsabelleIsabelle8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Los labios de Isabelle no habían sentido una calidez similar en ningún otro momento de los quince otoños que habían llegado a su vida, la dulzura del compás de los labios danzando unos con los otros, la carne tierna de los labios de su amante, la respiración entrecortándose, el aliento caliente en sus mejillas, mientras su corazón rompía cualquier posible armonía, con sus latidos, haciendo eco en sus oídos, como si un extraño tambor sin ritmo la manejaba, dejando que los besos perdieran el aparente control que tenían y solo podía sentir como la temperatura de su cuerpo contrastaba con la brisa nocturna , tal como su pecho crecido por los torrentes de sangre intoxicada de pasión. La luna, en lo más alto de aquel Octubre, vigilaba sigilosamente haciendo su brillo cada vez más tenue, aumentando las monstruosas sombras del bosque de robles, que parecían tener la facultad de moverse entre la
AmantesAmantes8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Puedo dividirme, multiplicarme a traición,
Capacidad heredada, mi sangre a la luz,
A dos pretendo, falsificando una imitación,
Matizados los colores, me desprendo de esta cruz.
Una pitonisa, de debatida calificación,
Venenosa belleza, evocación,
Desenfrenada pasión sin contestación,
Todos mis pensamientos los transformas en visión.
Te hubiese dado mis vidas por tan sólo un atisbo,
Pero tu indiferencia me cuesta mi deseado sacrificio.
Y ya hace años que he optado por un amor sincero,
Examino su rostro y encuentro mi espejo
¿Y si te digo qué mi sombra es tu obra maestra?
¿Qué me rompes el corazón y afilas mis tristezas?
La vieja canción, las voces prohibidas,
Se pierden mis pasos en las calles adoquinadas,
Retomando una vieja tradición
En mi Buenos Aires los amantes se desencuentran
ResfrioPrimero, el ardor de labios y huesosResfrio8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
La mañana triste, los ojos brillantes
Amanecer con frío y llovizna
Luego, tu llamada.
En ese instante el encantamiento
La dolorosa confesión de cuánto te quiero
Tosida con rabia y un gran cansancio
Luego, tus palabras.
Con mentiras me inflamas ambos oídos
Y rota, enmudece mi garganta
El alma infectada de amor se me queda
QuisieraEn ocasiones quisiera ser leve como una mirada tierna,Quisiera7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Como la sonrisa que no alcanzamos a contemplar,
Como un rayo de luna asomando entre los cerros,
Como el soplo de vida que atesora un moribundo.
A veces quisiera ser arrolladora como un río enfurecido
Como el zarpazo increíble de un animal que se defiende
Como el disparo certero de una palabra venenosa
Como el azote grotesco de una plaga de problemas.
Hay días en que quiero ser fuego, o hielo
Días colmados de lágrimas en que quiero reír a gritos
Buscarte con mi linterna por la noche
Y traerte de vuelta a casa cargándote en mi espalda.
Ser fuerte para ti cuando lo necesites
Y hacerme débil para que tú me aplaques;
Darte a beber del aire que respiro
Cuando te noto agobiado y asfixiado de dolores.
A ratos quiero ser libre y abstraerme de tu mundo
Contemplar en mi interior sin preguntarme qué sucede
Soltar estas amarras y encontrar rumbos para nosotros
Regresar en tu búsqueda y rapt
Mary the MagicianMary the MagicianMary the Magician1 month ago in Short Stories More Like This
Kelly Moore was proud of herself as she got out of her SUV. She brushed her long brown hair away from her face and grabbed the groceries out of the back seat.
Stepping inside the house she quickly put the groceries away and thought to herself, 11 a.m. and I already took Katie to school and got the groceries. Wait what’s that sound?
It was faint but she could hear a female voice coming from inside the house. As she made her way down the hall to her daughter’s room it began to grow louder.
Ugh she left the TV on again, Kelly thought, as she opened the door.
On the TV a young redheaded CGI woman was standing on a stage. She was decked out in a surprisingly risqué outfit for a children’s cartoon character. She was Mary the Magician, the latest craze amongst girls aged 8-11. Her dvds mostly focused on her giving stage shows or having magical adventures. The image on the screen was th
Amanda Jones European adventureAmanda Jones European adventure10 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
Walking through the streets of Ireland, Amanda Jones was on her way to the hotel room she and her friends were staying at. Hannah Duffy, Kat Weber and herself were backpacking around several countries of Europe and were on their way to Hannah's hometown of County Wicklow. They arrived at the pleasant city of Carlow just as night was setting in. Their friend Kat from Berlin tagged along with Hannah to pick up some food for dinner. Amanda took this chance to explore the sights of the city and found men and women entering a small club with a poster surprisingly written in english by the entrance saying:
"Come one, come all!
Proudly presents for one
night only here at Club Geass,
for you to experience the mystical
power of the amazing Paradox."
Amanda glanced at her watch and believed she had more then enough time before she was suppose to meet her friends for dinner. She entered the club and found the show
The Poem w. an Eating DisorderThe day I gave my half-done piece a name,The Poem w. an Eating Disorder8 years ago in Ballad More Like This
It ceased to eat. Refused all further verse.
It hid its form in anorexic shame,
Convinced of girth it needed to reverse.
Our writing exercises weren't enough;
It had to starve itself, to fast, it thought,
Rejecting words as poor, unhealthy fluff,
Irrational ideals I often fought.
When finally it took to words, it gorged,
Devouring ev'ry phrase I chanced to write;
As thoughts were had, so, too, were verses forged,
With not a hint of order left in sight.
At last, its swollen stanzas stopped to purge;
Revision by catharsis stopped its growth,
And, after having pleased this anxious urge,
It balked at ink and pen, refusing both.
These ways became a cycle--as I'd feared--
With pleas against its senseless acts denied;
If Chance had not, in wisdom, interfered,
My poem almost surely would have died.
A friend of mine was stopping by my place
And happened to peruse my cluttered desk,
My poem hiding, fearing the disgrace
Of being so self-mangled
Una Primera Ultima VezUna Primera Ultima Vez8 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Estaba llorando. No eran lagrimas derramadas o sin final, solamente trató lo mas que pudo y lloró. Sintió como le recorrían el rostro, llegaban a sus labios y probaba el salado sabor de la amargura. No volvería de nuevo a pasar por ello. Ya varias veces había dado todo y un poco mas, arriesgó, algunas veces dejó algo para sí, fue sincero, fue una mentira, trato de engañar y trato de dar lo mejor que tenia y sin embargo falló. Trataba de guiarse de señales y las veía en todas partes, cada nueva ocasión parecía aquello que había esperado hace tanto tiempo, sin embargo ninguna vez lograba serlo
Ver el piso, suspirar, mirar a un lado, recordar. Era una rutina que se repetía siempre, los nombres variaban al igual que las situaciones, el sentimiento extrañamente era el mismo, y lo que seguía después se repetía. Quizás tenia la mente contaminada de tant
+Hate+I hate you.+Hate+8 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I hate everything</i> you do.
I hate the way your lips look in the sunlight.
I hate the way your laugh sounds.
I hate the way you look when you've
just gotten out of the shower.
I hate the way you look at me,
with all that secluded emotion.
I hate you!
I just hate the way you can make me do
all these ridiculous things, and
Say all these sappy words.
I hate them. Hate them!
I hate the way my heart</i> goes
psychotic whenever I see you, or
get a whiff of your hair... Your skin...
I hate the way I want to kiss you,
Of the day.
I hate the way I feel like there's a
fire inside me when I catch them looking at you, or
you looking at them, and
I just hate how I'd let you walk all over me...
Just to make sure that you like me, if only but a friend...
I hate the way you make me feel!
Because it fe
Diagramacion de textos 2aparteDiagramación de textos, segunda parte: La Línea del TiempoDiagramacion de textos 2aparte6 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
Ya lo tienes: se te ocurrió una idea genial sobre una historia que quieres escribir, pero al momento de plasmarla en papel, te has hecho un lío. Si has ido siguiendo nuestros tutoriales, a esta altura tendrás ya identificados a los personajes que participan en la historia (con el mayor detalle posible) ordenados en tu genograma (ver tutorial anterior en http://noticias.deviantart.com/art/Diagramacion-de-textos-1-128557351 ). Pues bien, ahora es el momento de ordenar los hechos de tu historia en una línea temporal.
¿Línea temporal?... me suena me suena .
Probablemente a muchos de ustedes en clase de historia, les pasaron las famosas líneas cronológicas, en donde en una línea se van estampando los diferentes eventos que han marcado la historia de un país o del mundo entero. Pues bien, la línea temporal es algo parecido.
Happy New Year.Hermione was crying again. It really was very annoying, especially when her parents kept asking her what was wrong, but she just couldn't seem to help it, these days. Of course it was all Ron's fault, Ron and his Lav Lav she closed her eyes as another wave of angry tears and let out a small moan of frustration with herself.Happy New Year.3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Her dad was looking owlishly at her over the back of the sofa, his face creased with concern. She managed a sort of squeaky, questioning noise in response, determinedly looking the other way.
"Hermione love, come and sit with us dear, the fireworks are going to start in a minute."
She covertly blew her nose on a tissue she had found in her pocket, and managed a slightly wobbly:
"I I don't really feel like it Dad, I've got a bit of a headache, think I'll go to bed if no one minds "
Her mother looked around then, and sought out her brown eyes with her own hazel ones, her voice soft but firm.
"It's New Years Eve darling, and we won't ha
PairCongratulations, Ron and Hermione!Pair3 years ago in Romance More Like This
The banner strung across the Burrow's kitchen strongly reminded Harry of the one that once stretched across Number 12's kitchen, when the two of them had become Gryffindor prefects.
This time, however, the congratulations were for a completely different occasion: Ron and Hermione had just gotten engaged.
The couple was surrounded by family and friends, shaking hands and giving hugs. Harry caught them smiling at each other every now and then when they got a break from all the well-wishing.
He couldn't be happier for his two best friends. He had watched them grow up together, develop feelings for each other, and eventually get their act together. And now, they were making it official. It felt like yesterday that they were arguing over Viktor Krum and house elves.
Well, it's not like their bickering ever stopped, thought Harry, as he watched Ron and Hermione debate quietly over who should cut the cake Mrs. Weasley had made for the occasion. They j
One Step Closer-Ron-Hermione New Year contest2012 Sixth Year-January 1, 1997One Step Closer-Ron-Hermione New Year contest20123 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Hermione, would you like me to help you with anything?" asked her mum while she picked up the tray with the empty teacup.
"No thanks." Hermione replied, giving her mother a drowsy smile.
Mrs. Granger leaned over and kissed her daughter's forehead. "Your Dad and I will be downstairs if you need anything else darling," she said "Let me know if you want to talk."
"Thank you Mum," Hermione replied as her mother nodded and closed the door behind her.
Hermione took a deep breath, and pulled out a new piece of paper and a quill. Her gaze drifted to the corners of her bed, where a half a dozen crumpled paper balls had gathered. They had started all the same way-as her New Year's Resolution list.
I, Hermione Jane Granger, resolve to do in the New Year:
1. Make a Better Effort to spend time with Mum and Dad.
Hermione rubbed her eyes, before new tears formed. She had two wonderful parents who had always loved her and supported her, and whil
Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)Somewhere between oxen and orchid,Oxtails (Collab w/ TwilightPoetess)1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
where cattails and foxgloves wilt and weep
at the parting of another fleeing day
and stormed cloud-castles mutiny
against the weight of the rocksalt moon;
somewhere between flightless and fading,
where faery circles and dandelion crowns fall--
somewhere, beneath bark mosaiced with age,
you will siphon the remains of my heart--
churned smooth by false hope’s abuse--
into dehydrated dirt that groans for it.
I will clot the crumbling veins of anthills
with the iron debris that was once us,
until I become orchid or foxglove once more.
Veknon IntroVeknon IntroVeknon Intro1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
“Each and everyone of us here have a purpose, a plan, a destiny.
Everyone of us have a choice, a path to choose, a place to arrive, with a door to open.
Whichever door that is walked through is the product of what has been achieved.
Whichever door that is walked through is the beginning of the journey.
There are many lands which each individual can arrive.
And many forests for us to trudge on through.
I watch over you, soon to be little one, your journey is a great one.”
-Written by ForestWanderers
-Protected by (The Art Of Veknon © 2007-2014 +)
A Forest at MorningI dreamed of trees. Bright boughs and bloomsA Forest at Morning3 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Through gloom and morning spilled
While I brushed back their silver leaves
That sunlit skies had filled
With gilded wash--the vermeil sight
Above the dusky bark
Seemed starry trains above the moon
And night's enclosing dark
And I stepped under such a sky:
New-formed, bejeweled, and bright
And wished I could forever dwell
Within its dim half-light.
There nothing stirred; no beast or bird
Dwelt in the forest there
Though I heard silent rivers trill
Still wand'ring swift and fair
Through banks embraced by cattail roots;
Through drooping willow leaves
That rustled in the water's rush
Bereft of any breeze.
Oh, I stepped under such a sky
Composed of darkling boughs
Flushed with the swell of morning leaves
All silver-gold endowed
'Till awe forestalled my reaching foot
And stilled the step, half-made--
And oh! to breathe seemed mortal sin
As if each sound betrayed
Whatever heaven I had found.
But when I breathed at last
And put my foot upon the grou
VEKNON A Shadow Within UPDATEDVEKNON:VEKNON A Shadow Within UPDATED2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A Shadow Within
Recovering from his wounds was taking much too long for the agitated Remoceu. No longer being able to use his bow, he had become depressed, and felt useless, he could no longer fight off those dark beings. He felt as if he failed the mission his mentor Gri had proposed. One too many foolish mistakes had cost him his arm and almost his own life. He barely fought off that last Remoc that had ambushed him weeks ago. This had been his second spirit he had to fight off since his mentor had left his side. He had no idea that this is what he was trained all along for, he did not feel prepared, not one bit. He thought he was trained to defend himself from the occasional bear or wolf, but the actual spirit beings from his nightmares, that was another story. Gri had told him he was special, something that was called Veknon, a warrior in the language of Gri’s tribe from the north, but Remoceu felt no such thing. The days went on, and he doubted more
Playing the VictimHe lunges forward towards her , and she stands there, just smiling.Playing the Victim8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Hit me, she taunts, and at this, his angry fist nearly goes flying.
Like a ferocious lion barring its fangs at a wolf adorned in lambs skin,
the bitch just bats her eyes, and plays the “victim”, behind her hair, a feral grin.
It's getting too dangerous, he's getting to strong,
he'll break free from my grasp, and do more than break her arm.
She flips dark hair like the wipers on a car, and it's darkness mirrors that of her hollow soul.
He's nearly out of my grasp now, this is going to far. We're digging ourselves into a black hole.
“Get away! You're not wanted here!” I scream so loudly,
I fear that blood leaks from my ear, but I've garnered my reaction proudly.
“Why should I have to go!” Her watery eyes shout at me,
“I'm the victim, he's trying to hurt me!”
“You manipulative bitch,” I think to myself loudly,
and as I yell another “Go
someday.i. i will alwayssomeday.6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
be waiting for my
(would you like
to wait with
giving up and
sound awfully nice.
(you are the reason why
iii. i believe that words
can paint rainbow
sunsets and rivers and
happiness and golden
skies and things full
(im still trying to figure out
iv. writing non-fiction
makes me feel horribly
for everyone to realize
im nothing special.)
v. i dont want
to anyone. i
only want to be
mine. i only want
(i like to pretend
The Privileged Feminist and the WomanShe was a feminist, born free,The Privileged Feminist and the Woman10 months ago in Emotional More Like This
while she was a woman born over seas.
She was the feminist who went to school,
while she was the woman who paid unrightful dues.
She was the feminist who went to college,
while she was the woman forced to work without knowledge.
She was the feminist who preached her corrupted views,
She was the woman whose homeland was on the news.
She was the feminist who spoke her annoying mind,
She was the woman who could only be at peace inside.
She was the feminist who could walk freely,
She was the woman that would get beaten weekly.
She was the feminist who blamed men for everything,
She was the woman who was forced to bare men's offspring.
She was the feminist who could chose her life
She was the woman who didn't make it past twenty five.
She is the feminist who is blind to the world,
who only cares for herself, her life is like a pearl,
She is the woman who cannot show her face,
as an excuse to be modest, faithful and chaste.
She is the feminist who is ignorant t