Gallery
Literature
Recall a poet, how as a youth
Recall a poet, how as a youth
they filled their cup in the well's dark depths,
drawing out the mind's ink to spill over the pages.
There was expectation in the words as they trickled
in rivulets from line to delicate line;
in their cursive elegance a hint of laurels.
One day the poet's cup returned empty,
and then again, until the pages dried.
Perhaps then visit where a cup leaves its mark
above where stripped bones lie.
Nature disdains the cup's drab stone,
the memorial grey bleak against its green,
and the rush of its protests recall the poet's struggle
to find water in the well where dry winds howled.
All
72 deviations
Literature
Recall a poet, how as a youth
Recall a poet, how as a youth
they filled their cup in the well's dark depths,
drawing out the mind's ink to spill over the pages.
There was expectation in the words as they trickled
in rivulets from line to delicate line;
in their cursive elegance a hint of laurels.
One day the poet's cup returned empty,
and then again, until the pages dried.
Perhaps then visit where a cup leaves its mark
above where stripped bones lie.
Nature disdains the cup's drab stone,
the memorial grey bleak against its green,
and the rush of its protests recall the poet's struggle
to find water in the well where dry winds howled.
Featured
70 deviations
Literature
Portrait
Sketch us now, love;
make the lines heavy beneath my eyes.
Let each wrinkle be a trembling of ageing hands
that scatter our memories across the page.
Draw a still life, love;
pencil in the arthritis just so.
Let me not move from the cage of my chair
as you hammer it down with manicured nails.
Paint the years, love;
spread the tears heavy over the canvas.
Let the water dilute the colours until peaceful,
hazy edges stain the history of our days.
Sketch us; draw us; paint us
and then, love, when the time does come,
burn us.
Poems of note
26 deviations
Literature
Sword Boy and Magic Wench I
These are the adventures of Sword Boy and Magic Wench - accounts of epic deeds and their daily life confronting danger in the mythical lands of Generic Fantasy World!
Join them now as they stride boldly through the perilous 'Dark Forest of Trees'!
SB "I'm afraid, Magic Wench"
MW "What is it NOW Sword Boy?"
SB "The trees… They have moss!"
(A piercing scream of frustration echoes through the forest, as Magic Wench loses all patience and starts to strangle Sword Boy.)
Suddenly, a piercing scream is heard in the forest, accompanied by a cry for help
SB "Whoa. Deja-vu. Why did you scream? Why twice? Was it the moss? Is that why you are hugg
Sword Boy and Magic Wench
6 deviations
Recordings
3 deviations
Miscellaneous
1 deviation
Literature
I am a Poem - draft
=== Draft 1 ===
Don't hunch over and avoid me, youth - I am a poem:
greet me with back straight, eyes clear, a glint in them
speaking of fierce dreams and the relentless passions
which pierce the fog of indecision and drive your days.
And don't grow faded and forget me in adulthood - I am a poem:
resist the choke of windsored knots and breathe me in,
fill your lungs with the mind's fire and let it rage out
until your tongue shrivels, swells, then is renewed.
Then don't give up on me in your old age - I am a poem:
The blind can still hear me, the deaf can still see me,
and even the blind and deaf can feel me in their fragile bones,
Scraps
20 deviations
Featured70
