Villanelle for YouI think I saw you first.More Like This
Or, you saw me-does it matter?
I’ll dream of you until I burst.
From that moment on, my mind was cursed;
my blissful innocence destroyed, shattered.
I think I saw you first.
A day without your presence is my worst
nightmare. How I long to evoke your laughter.
I’ll dream of you until I burst.
I long for you with an insatiable thirst.
Do you long for me? It hardly matters.
I think I saw you first.
I smile at you, attempt to flirt.
You return the first, ignore the latter.
I ‘ll dream of you until I burst.
What matters my pain-the highest verse
of poetry is of love unreturned, hearts shattered.
Yes, I know I saw you first.
Gladly I’ll dream of you until I burst.
If a Feminist Were HonestWhat if a feminist were forced to say what’s really on her mind, like Jim Carrey’s character in Liar Liar? This is how a poem by such a feminist might read.More Like This
I need feminism because…
Women need more,
Scholarships for college,
New business grants,
Even though they already outnumber men,
In college and entrepreneurship.
We need more female CEO’s and political leaders,
But not more women in…
Forestry, sewage, or mining,
Truck driving, or taxi driving,
Or garbage collection,
Or more men on magazine covers,
Or higher-paid male models,
Or fewer men dying on the job,
Or fewer men dying in wars,
Or fewer homeless men,
Or fewer male suicides,
Or fewer men in prison.
You see, men losing is sexual dimorphism,
While women losing is sexism.
Should be made EQUAL to
The most successful men
Whether they earn it or not.
That’s gender equality!
I need feminism because…
...And the spaces betweenMore Like This
words, are like
irregular and unsatisfied.
[you kept my heart beating .]
Collection: Cornwall: Defiance and MagicMore Like This
Defiance and Magic
Cornwall is one of those parts of the United Kingdom that’s never fit quite right.
Perpetually in rebellion against central British government authority on some level, the fires have now been banked in political debate over independence and home rule. Some international entities recognize Cornwall as a separate Celtic nation, and over 40% of the population when polled consider themselves “Cor
Fan Art Friday: Teenage Mutant Ninja TurtlesMore Like This
FAN ART FRIDAY: Heroes In A Half Shell
New York City, chemical ooze, and the delicious smell of pizza can only mean one thing — Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!
For being named after Renaissance artist greats, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo, had rather humble beginnings. Let’s travel back to 1983 to when Kevin Eastman created the idea for the turtles during a brainstorming session with his friend Peter Laird. Eastm
Project Porkchop Vol. 396More Like This
About Project Porkchop
The DeviantArt Experience can sometimes quickly become the quintessential example of that most frustrating problem: too much of a good thing. There just aren’t enough hours in the day to peruse the thousands of submissions and postings of artistic innovation, creativity and sheer beauty that are generated everyday.
So thank you for ProjectPorkchop!
Astralseed, an Icelandic deviant artist with a penchant for equines, including Quirlicorns (a breed of unicorns), has made our busy lives so much easier with ProjectPorkchop, a feature she started on her DeviantArt page. Project Porkchop’s fine eye for the best of the newly submitted artworks of virtually unknown artists, the incredible art tha
Collection: A Warning In Another's EyesMore Like This
A Warning in Another’s Eyes
Stop and Stare
Staring is not the same as intently gazing into another person’s eyes as a manner of communication.
That can be a quite pleasurable experience. Staring into another’ eyes too often presages the delivery of a warning or very bad news. The fixed stare is the facial equivalent of a flashing amber light, indicating you should proceed but only with great caution. Keep that in mind as you peruse t
Collection: New Orleans, the Comeback KidMore Like This
New Orleans, the Comeback Kid
Vibrant, raucous and, more than any other metropolis in America—truly alive! New Orleans is the one city in America that nobody believed would not stage a comeback after Katrina tried her best to kill its Big Noise. New Orleans is protected by Jesus or hoodoo or both—it’s all one glorious mixed–up gumbo goulash of cultures believing in live and let live.
Most cities in America are mostly alike in most everything. New Orleans is the exception. It is unique. It has had a separate evolution and it’s the most arts–based cultural treasure in our nation. The city i
FacadeIMore Like This
Her serene eyes stare into the distance,
cool and quiet behind her mask of sheer pink.
A romantic smile on her face
reflects the souvenir orchid of her soul,
delicately white, veined with pink.
But beneath the mask is a tropical blossom,
passion flows through her veins like fire.
The mask slips and for an instant you see,
like a transient magenta mist,
the memory she hides inside her heart.
The white sapphires of your luminescent eyes
reflect the serene sky that floats above us.
I am forever lost in their eternal blue.
Blue phlox blows out the scent of its soul.
I breathe in,
and the image blue flashes before my mind's eye again,
that perfect Portland blue day with you.
The moonstone hue of her memory fades,
lost with the fragility of a wildflower
carried away on a breeze
or the effervescent splendor of a hazy purple sunset.
She once more vanishes behind the joy of her masquerade.
Behind her blank, slate purple mask she breathes.
solo quieroaqui estoy tratando de regresarMore Like This
mis lagrimas intentan no saltar
aqui me quedo callado sin gritar
recuerdo como te fuiste sin mirar
recuerdo como te suplicaba intentar
lloro en las noches sin olvidar
solo quiero pensar que volveras
solo quiero escuchar tus mentiras
solo quiero que cumplas esas promesas
aqui estoy por que me destruiste
tus promesas de amor olvidaste
sigo llorando por que no regresaste
aqui estoy llorando en la oscuridad
enfermaste a mi corazon de inseguridad
hace mucho que te fuiste y hoy es ternidad
aqui estoy tratando de regresar al amor
aqui estoy intentando olvidar el dolor
ya quiero superar este oscuro temor
Was This What You Wanted?Was This What You Wanted?More Like This
Was my time worth it?
Should I go on?
It's too late for me
I've done nothing but wrong
This isn't how it was supposed to be
Everything did not go as planned
I was supposed to take the bullet
But now it's me you can't stand
What has happened to me?
Why am I so afraid?
I can't express my emotions
That, I forbade
You did this to me
Now I'll never heal
I'm "useless" and damaged
But do you think I do this to feel-
Wanted? It's just another word to me
I've gone completely numb
Depression, useless hatred
To this I've succumbed
You'll look at me in the future
And see a person emotionally taunted
Just one question, though
Was this what you wanted?
RelentlessWhy won’t it leave?More Like This
The parasite attached to my mind,
The accursed sleep thief,
Why won’t it see the signs?
I lay here at night,
Trying to kill it,
Yet it survives,
No matter how much I will it.
Get out of my head,
You unrelenting leech!
I want you dead!
Leave me, I beseech!
I try to forget about you,
Yet you will not go.
We both want you to,
You’ve made your choice known,
But you’re still here, through and through.
I can think about you no longer,
You who wants me not,
I need to be stronger,
So I can end the onslaught.
MobiusMonday 28 MayMore Like This
Without her, the world is a palette of dull, unsaturated colors, so dull that I cannot even bother to get up this morning. Only the wind brings vibrant memories of the places it’s been, where she is now, where I could be too. This morning, the breeze was alive with Farah. I could taste the whisper of her name, the sigh of her voice, the echo of her laugh. Closing my eyes, I absorb her image: blues-y eyes, jazzy smile, waltzing step.
Farah is walking again. Sometimes she feels so close that I can almost touch her; other times, she is so far, I will never reach her. Again, the wind breathes against my face. I easily shoulder my bag (by now my belongings are few) and begin my trek.
I would walk across the edge of the world to find Farah.
Tuesday 29 May
When the wind had no longer blown across my face, I had stopped yesterday. This morning the breeze set drifting into my lap a dried elder leaf, the fragrance of its flowers still clinging to it, a vivid sme