ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Leaving Out
late afternoon
alive
in the richness
of mint and tea
there is no sound
above
detail on the skin
the trees
turning sky into lace
not thinking of
how
I see
myself like this
late afternoon
alive
in the richness
of mint and tea
there is no sound
above
detail on the skin
the trees
turning sky into lace
not thinking of
how
I see
myself like this
Literature
why we never.
on her fifth birthday
her mother gave her an electric belt and said
"there is no reason to live if you can't feel it" and
strapped it around her daughter's tiny waist. she told her
"every time you breathe, it stings" and that was how
she knew she was alive.
wednesdays were leap days and fridays were fall days
and tuesday was the day her brother cried because
he'd been told his daffodils would never bloom
again. he said "flowers die when no one
sees them" and she put her hands over his eyes.
"i'm a flower" she repeated over and over.
"hello, i think i know you" he had said.
"what do you want?"
"hello, i think i know you."
"hello
Literature
The World Outside My Window
Theres a world outside my window
That only I can see
Sometimes, I wish someone else could see it
But in the end, its only me.
Most adults, I know, think theres no hope
And we all are just too far gone.
But, just as the sun always sets into night,
So it must also rise into dawn.
And though I sit up in my room,
There is a way through which visions pass.
The only thing separating me from these visions
Is that one little piece of glass.
And through that sheet of clear truth,
I can see both sides of the coin
There is a world where both dark and light exist
There is a world where they always join.
I see a woman in
Literature
breaking up with the day
of nights when we eloped
trodden, the tarmac lax
metropolis skyline looming,
an entire graveyard
of sleeping transmissions,
bricks and beggars
and boulevards littered
bedridden with nap.
we roved the docks,
piers twisted in lumber
moaning, creaking, flexing
with the sea's insomnia
and us overlooking
its abysmal waters.
I stare her heaving bosom
as she reaches my
bony knuckles, clutches
and turns to me
with the full moon in her face,
she says,
Im late.
and I know that the
blood red
sunrise will not be coming up
this morning.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
... I grow mint; sometimes I drink tea; the yard is a great place.
Dave Prisk
Dave Prisk
© 2008 - 2024 b1gfan
Comments70
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
I really, really like this. Great structure, and it leaves a lot to the imagination. I love poetry that creates an atmosphere, and that's exactly what this is.