ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
It was a warm summer night when I found her.
Her dress was white with yellow sunflowers,
and her auburn hair was spread out around her pale face.
It looked like an ever changing halo
moving gently in a soft breeze.
She had lost a shoe
Like Cinderella
Her deep, blue eyes stared into heaven
and the freckles of her skin drew constellations
against the pale background to mirror the stars above.
Fish gently nibbled at her fingers and nestled in her hair
paying no heed to her ruby lips which her last breath had left open
almost like an invitation.
I looked at her
fascinated
I loved her...
Thinking it was the least I could do
now that she had been so carelessly abandoned.
Forgotten
It was my duty to remember her.
I took the memory of her and stuffed it away
for safe keeping
The rest was just a shell
now empty and soon decayed.
Then I left
leaving only the pond behind to swallow its secrets.
Her dress was white with yellow sunflowers,
and her auburn hair was spread out around her pale face.
It looked like an ever changing halo
moving gently in a soft breeze.
She had lost a shoe
Like Cinderella
Her deep, blue eyes stared into heaven
and the freckles of her skin drew constellations
against the pale background to mirror the stars above.
Fish gently nibbled at her fingers and nestled in her hair
paying no heed to her ruby lips which her last breath had left open
almost like an invitation.
I looked at her
fascinated
I loved her...
Thinking it was the least I could do
now that she had been so carelessly abandoned.
Forgotten
It was my duty to remember her.
I took the memory of her and stuffed it away
for safe keeping
The rest was just a shell
now empty and soon decayed.
Then I left
leaving only the pond behind to swallow its secrets.
Literature
My Rosie
'You got wires, going in,
you got wires, coming out of your skin'
- Athlete.
'If you should die before I leave, what on earth becomes of me?'
- Robbie Williams.
I approach the doorway with a bouquet of white tulips and look over at Rose. She looks so serene. So content. Her eyelids closed, her dark hair brushed and parted just the way she likes
Literature
...
Gratification will bring you
nothing but a stone cold hand to
the pit
of your rotted ribs.
the self will gently pull on
the withered strings of its own
heart;
snap them back
into place.
the system will restart itself with
a hum of a thousand
whispers...
memories
set into place.
Again given minutes,
hours,
days, a
year,
for loneliness to reach
its end; and sometimes life
is only
given
through death,
so satisfaction,
reach its
end.
[again, you will be brought nothing .]
Literature
The end of a world
As I look out the window and see the clouds of smoke
People are leaving their house,
With their face drained of hope
Close by I see people crying,
In the distance I hear people screaming
The worst is happening,
Only this time we’re not dreaming
The faithful are gathering,
Holding hands and praying
The tainted are bargaining,
Taking anything that can be taken
The weak are jumping off buildings,
Leaving blood on the pavement
Large scale of suicides
Whether by knife, gun, or hanging
It’s anarchy out there
And it has only begun
I’m damned to the flames
Because my sins can’t be undone
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
A small poem that came to be last night, out of nowhere, after having been drinking way too many energy drinks. My mind went down a slightly macabre road, and I just followed and took notes! Comments, critique and criticism is always welcomed
© 2013 - 2024 Ridderkvinden
Comments51
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
A pond is a place of forgotten memories, this poem is beautiful