Submissions by DarkfulLightless
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
I am a musician for fun and a writer at heart. I tend to write in metaphors, so don't take my work bluntly. I enjoy making people think passed the guts and gore in my poems to find the true meaning behind it.
DARK POEM
Published
7th Feb 2012 4:06am
7th Feb 2012 4:06am
The Match and The Bell
If only mine sight could deceive
Bless'd, illusion t'would be
A solitary stray beam to my dilated eyes
Be this the almighty End?
Nay, breathe
Air lay heavy in my lungs
Though I squander it none
Hands no longer stagnant
Scouring for a break in the seal
Nay, none such a space, however
Alas! A key of sorts?
Placed in the notch before my face
Coarse on one side
And doth splinter with the other
Nay, breathe
To what service is this?!
A match to burn my troubles away?
Bringing my fist down in distemper
Doth brought...
Bless'd, illusion t'would be
A solitary stray beam to my dilated eyes
Be this the almighty End?
Nay, breathe
Air lay heavy in my lungs
Though I squander it none
Hands no longer stagnant
Scouring for a break in the seal
Nay, none such a space, however
Alas! A key of sorts?
Placed in the notch before my face
Coarse on one side
And doth splinter with the other
Nay, breathe
To what service is this?!
A match to burn my troubles away?
Bringing my fist down in distemper
Doth brought...
780 reads
13 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
2nd Feb 2012 9:59pm
2nd Feb 2012 9:59pm
Shadeland
The breeze is pale and choking
A haze dripping impurity on the world
Not your world, just ours
Not my world, just theirs
A dying branch on the sentient tree
The grass is gray upon the ground
Swan songs belted from our hearts
Our hearts in the air, the trees, in ourselves
Drowning, struggling to catch a tear in the stream
The better have yet to do their best
Swept under the rug and left to starve
Now the branch has broke
It floats down stream, riding on a tear
No place left to go but down
This, the shaded land,...
A haze dripping impurity on the world
Not your world, just ours
Not my world, just theirs
A dying branch on the sentient tree
The grass is gray upon the ground
Swan songs belted from our hearts
Our hearts in the air, the trees, in ourselves
Drowning, struggling to catch a tear in the stream
The better have yet to do their best
Swept under the rug and left to starve
Now the branch has broke
It floats down stream, riding on a tear
No place left to go but down
This, the shaded land,...
871 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by DarkfulLightless
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