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Watercolour SmilesExiled dreams were watercolor smiles kept in still life
like a poem in painted form
its hope would chime and radiate its light.
the wind contained fidelity, as its bloom-would soon but blow.
The cuirass, now willing to embrace the goddesses
light, fading dreams of few
now stood amazingly lifelike
to brace of the distance
we were the painted picture
as what contained was its pigments.
Pianos would play, sonata
as to the distant grey
so matter not, i stared now facing
to brace the warmth familiar
as rose petals hit the floor
as dreams had also felt silent
now as the spring and rainfall
FaithWould you take everything i gave,
and bathe in my mistakes
or be the brave
and put everything at stake
to pain, that will maim no more,
bathed and white-washed, to be righteous
the path that you claimed no more.
emerged, closely entangled by grace,
felicity, belief, what is a memory?
a small spangled embrace.
a pendant, wore, as a key
a dream, you was white
as a hope, you was seen
as a sky, you was this wavering kite.
You was faith, as faith in all.
Ethereal SkyHope wore the whitest gleam
as it was the brightest,
this ocean was but a faithful dream,
as the waves were delighted.
I was stubborn
as the years that passed me by
now as we stood here
was the reflection of passers by
as affections grew dear
now as the dearest sun
the eventual light as you appeared
all of my fears were gone.
Before as a dream
you drew from open praise,
as the distant gleam
stretched upon the ethereal sky.
We was the brightest
the fairest, to lapse
this instant gratification
that graciously grasped
this amazing smile
none knew, was glad
many would seethe
as no longer was i sad.
The future that never wasWhat was this dignified reason
I never once made clear
what was the past that scolded me,
deeply, allowing none near.
Was I the ambrosia of gods
this naked truth
knew and never once heard.
this single breath
that chokes the life
out of eternity.
a memoir, a mirror
but what is eternity?
Just a hope, a promise made,
to be truthful, to be noble
just a whisper that fades
a means to an end
a heart to a love
a dream to a future
that never was.
TemptedAs the distant streetlights glow
into these pockets of blackness,
I find myself stranded standing alone
whispering repetitions unto these pockets of night, as madness.
Now feeling eerily nostalgic
as the twisted desires
spun as if by magic
but emptied out to consolidate the now precarious dream.
as i was the one tempted
by the temptresses seduction,
now said to gleam.
towards those lulled out screams,
no consequence to the sun
now drenched beneath the superficial mist...
was I the prey to the black widows web now spun
X marks the secretThe sunken ship
that had now which
a thousand skies beneath it.
The bottomless gorge
was now but more
full of all those leaches.
The greatest reward
was upon thine shore
and buried was its secret.
Eyes of SapphireThose eyes of sapphire, wonder
spoke a name
so quiet to these ears
To those yet said apologies
of sorrows, to those tears shed
to those tree boughs
the 'morrow, was here instead
What to me, was humility
as a hope so nimble
you spoke but to soothe
appearing waveringly gentle
Embroidered was her smile
and the truth was bold,
perhaps a jaded stone
engraved, there id read her truth.
a reaper to hearts there played
an animal, no she was neither two
but a vacant rose
that breath, that scent of hers
as i held her clothes
to have held her close
for a single moment was wishful
as a candle-wavers so.
To love or to grieve.Live, dream to another
hope or love to grieve
take nothing for granted
to give or till love now leaves.
demented ears, now tempted
as the dearest loathe
empty words that smear of love.
What dost thou now doth?
Dreams of established nothingness
stabbing, clawing till we bleed
throbbing thoughts now mush.
Diminished dreams.I was lapsing, bearing dreams
yet not recalling having one,
hope was the fairest to have gleamed
CLOSER, than to have but gone.
as the plain that held her with audacity
to shoulder truth,
trusted till now had we.
To have felt, to have realized
those pleas to deaf ears.
To those who flee
as to the yesteryear.
You were the tree
as dreams that festered here.
Darkness vs. LightDarkness creeps so slowly,
I am caught by surprise.
Somehow my world plunges into unending sorrow.
All it takes is a song,
Then I am falling.
Silent screams echo in my ears.
I struggle to find a light bright enough.
Something to fend off the darkness like a sword.
It isn’t fair to face the darkness knowing there is no escape.
I will not die.
Life clings to me against my will.
Where is my other half?
My soul mate?
I don’t want to be alone,
Facing down my demons without a shred of hope.
Shine so brightly I will be drawn to you.
I can’t forget I need to shine.
I just feel as if my light is dimming.
How will you find me if I am swallowed by my darkness?
A spark of hope.
I need a way to defeat my sorrows,
So I can help battle yours.
Just a glimmer of hope?
Ashen DiaryShe wrote everything
in that old diary of hers,
always smelling of tangerines
looking torn and beaten
from all the corners and crooks
she's hidden it in.
She shoved hours of every day
between the cracking covers
of that book,
hoping to save them for the future,
when she'll no longer be able to remember,
incapable of reliving her past.
Pouring out her soul onto the pages
through the tip
of her black sharpie,
recording her life
minute by minute.
She didn't know
that putting her life on paper
would take the life
out of her.
I didn't know either.
And now I would kill
to read the her hidden behind covers.
I'd die to read the her
who opened up over the pages.
Black TrumpetsThe black trumpets play jazz in between the death of a girl in Chicago, and the death of a boy in Paris.
The lights of the cities they called home were the only creatures that saw them pass.
The boy died of forgetfulness to breath in the cold, and the girl died of a drunken car.
Inside both of them there once lay galaxies of purely everything. Those galaxies still exist, but they're not in either of the children's bodies anymore.
Now they're stored in pockets of the sky, being saved for the day humanity learns the ways of making rotten skeletons come to life again.
The black trumpets play jazz in between the death of a nation of liars and lovers, and the death of a war in which no side won.
The families of the fallen nation survived, they were swallowed in a fire that never touches skin.
The armies of the war didn't win because the soldiers can never die, and that's sad.
They'll walk for eternity, and suffer things they shouldn't.
The black trumpets play Jazz in between time and
Dirty CarpetI nuzzled against our dirty carpet,
fed it warmth. It returned my love
and whispered truths in my ears: it
told me that flowers can sprout in the frost,
that this wasteland is my empire.
My head feels heavy but I can't escape
the carpet's gravity. So I kept on
nuzzling against our dirty carpet
and it returned my love and smothered the
Concrete, gurgling underneath.
.they all say,
it's a good thing
you fell far
from that tree
and i can't
take another bite;
the pips inside
(spit spit spit)
I Dream In BlackEvery time my head touches the pillow,
when my eyes close,
I fear the dreams
that will inevitably come.
For when I lay blind
on my bed,
blanketed in black light,
I dream of you.
And I've noticed that,
the dreams of my deepest sleep
have been gradually turning darker,
as if painted
And I fear
when they disappear,
so will you.
.she told me i had soft palms,
i said yeah but i've got a hard
heart, because when
i was young i got given
two goldfish, and one day the
big ate the little
and that's when i learnt i'd
be fucked by the world, it would
do the same thing to me too
(i heard the language of evil and i started to speak it, saw the actions of evil and i started to be it)
Beneath the GlassThe pirouette of dreams
a mirror you yet cannot see,
reverse the hands of the clock
to reveal behind the glass a secret.
Recollections of dreams now clash
wearing, building suspense now near
constantly all began to thrash
as your fear was all but eerie.
My mirrored body stood now weary
possessed, as my reflection was mine no more
would the rest be paranoid
and the rest be free
to bear my conscience
as if it was a dream;
to venture forth into the wilds
conquering lost souls that stream.
Was it the beast
as through the streetlight mist
as i was too so silent.
was it the consecutive night now lest
what i found beneath the glass;
the one that i saw, was me.
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More