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Practice Poem - Poor Little TimmyPractice Poem - Poor Little Timmy:

Down into well, poor Timmy fell,
Down he fell into the pits of hell.
Brought into hell by an eldritch spell,
Poor little Timmy who fell down the well.

Alone he cowered and shivered and shook,
He shook for hours, so long it took,
So long it took for him to feel well,
Well enough to explore this hell...

Through pathways littered with scenes most gory;
Most gory indeed was little Timmy's story,
A story of fear and suffering defined,
Poor little Timmy, he ran out of time...

Now then, I think I'll go welcome my little guest...

-Chen Yuan Wen, 14th December 2012

Tired, Exhausted, DrainedTired, Exhausted, Drained:

I am bloody exhausted! Drained to the core of my soul.

I wake up every morning with bags; burning ever deeper into my eyes.

Sunken masses of flesh, reminding me that the dreamscape -

One in which I sought refuge; is now buried where it lies.

Yet still I force myself to trudge through this wilderness.

Forever caught in a moon drenched, delusory twilight.

An endless cycle of failure and renewed hope;

Giving rise to the very stubbornness that defines me.

-Chen Yuan Wen, 5th February 2013

Briar Roseher soul is a rose

scarlet and full of sharp thorns

can she trim the barbs?

It Came From The DarkIt Came From The Dark:

Amongst the ashes, swirling from the darkness of the pit,

Emerged a hand, dragging a battered body across the rocks.

Blood leaked from the wounds so callously self-inflicted,

And teeth ground with a focused determination and seething anger.

It cared not for the warm rubies - staining the jagged rocks,

It cared not for the sensation of pain...

All that it remembered was a dream, An obsession -

One that drove it ever higher; ignoring all else!

Eventually it emerged from this shadowy hole, this dreary depth,

And in that moment, it learned of the truth.

For this creature, denied sunlight and warmth -

was me...

BelovedBeloved:

Perfectly pleasant
With a bright radiant smile
If only for me...

-Chen Yuan Wen, 4th January 2013

We Are/You Aren'tWe are the unwanted, the broken
The ones you forgot about.
So don't be too surprised when we
Start to scream and shout.

We are the living, the dying
The ones you all put down.
But you'll know who we are when we
Run this goddamn town.

We are the corpses, the maggots
The ones you all despise.
But you'll be the ones scared when we
Expose all your lies.

We are the hunted, the lost
The ones you all spurn.
But you'll cry for our help when we
Leave you all to burn.

We are the losers, the winners
The ones that you deny.
But you'll be the ones damned when we
Hear the angels cry.

I'll Make My Own WayBiting my lips until they bleed
Because there's no one here to kiss them
Sat in the dark because no one needs me with them
Trapped in a cold, dark padded cell
It's meant to be a refuge but it feels like hell
I need the key but I don't even know if there is one

You said it would be easier than this
I don't deserve any of this
Please can someone take me far away from this
Before there's nothing left of me

Because it's just me now
No one else to hold me tight
I'll sing the lullabies to myself
To help me get through the night
And if someone else comes along
To take me out of this place
I'll welcome them with open arms
And a smile

GlacialJanuary wolves stalk her shivering heart;
bitter ice-fangs sink into feverish skin.
Frost devours slowly, succinctly, shamelessly;
yet the howling tossed chains around her
paper-thin limbs and dragged her down.

Arctic icebound lips quivering,
silver eyelashes fluttering emptily,
alabaster fingertips reaching out;
frenzied yet frozen and fractured.

"Drowning," she whispers in a winter song,
and places her mouth upon snow-dusted fur.
"Blood freezing in these frostbitten veins."

And then the pack of aurorean wolves bolt away,
leaving her smiling in the blizzard of humanity.

Freedom.

Diamonds And GlassA human soul is like a glass vase. So fragile, so easy to break. Just one touch, and it can shatter into a thousand shards. So many pieces that not even a lifetime would be enough turns of the clock to meld it all back together.

So instead of being glass...

Why don't we turn our souls into diamonds instead?

After all, diamonds are one of the strongest materials to be found in nature that can be shaped into something beautiful.

Who wants to be seen as glass that can be pulverized with the slightest of pressure, when instead you can be viewed as one of the most durable and gorgeous souls in the world?

Flights of FancyI believe in
the impossible
the childish
the unseen
the absurd
the silly

I believe in lands somewhere over the rainbow
I believe in worlds hidden under the rabbit hole
I believe in kingdoms on the other side of the wardrobe
I believe in enchanted forests where animals talk in riddles
I believe in palaces where wizards entertain immortal kings

I believe in
fairies
dragons
unicorns
spirits
elves

in the magic and wonder that only a child's eyes can see
in the universes hopes and dreams can create with a single thought

I believe in everything that so many say are imaginary; in everything that so many people scoff at and call me fanciful and

Missing Pieces.I am a missing piece. Something that someone needs.
But at the same time, I feel so incomplete.
I’ve wandered way too far, wondered for far too long
Am I a missing piece? Or a piece that won’t belong?

Is it possible I’m damaged and not missing at all?
That I’m just as dysfunctional as everybody else?
Pretending to be perfect never softened a single fall.
But neither did admitting that you’re broken and flawed.

A broken missing piece. Is that all I’m meant to be?
There is no master plan that includes the likes of me.
Being all alone, it’s a hurt that will not cease.
A hundred thousand years from now

Mother EarthShe has suns for eyes,
and oceans for tears,
a blade of grass for each hair,
and wisdom beyond her years.

Rage like an earthquake,
sorrow as deep as the sea,
madness funneled like a hurricane,
joy blooming so vividly, kings fall to their knee.

Her skin is a motley,
with hues so dark and bright,
she sleeps during the day,
and lays awake at night.

She has the universe for a heart,
and the cosmos burn in her soul,
however, humanity's blindness,
is at last taking its toll.

Into the PlungeBuild me a sandcastle on the edge of the sea,
where the cliffs are sprayed with the salty tears of the tide,
and sirens cry into the night for the arms of a lover
to whisk them away into a dry night free of brine;
Where we shall dance the sunset's furtive sigh of redemption
on the edge of saline bluffs, and kiss with the gunpowder
of forgotten cannons high on the waves of an abandoned ocean;
Teetering the edge of the world, where the Kraken and Leviathan lay in wait
for lost-lorn victims of broken hearts and brackish undertows
coursing through their veins.

D
r
o

Poetic Practice - Love Like AshPoetic Practice - Love Like Ash:

Yes sir, he is clinging to insanity.
He remembers all the things he said, profanity.
Bare the shame on his naked old humanity.
He is the doll claiming love for his vanity-

When he woke up, desire!
He made a move like fire.
His whispers; a liar,
His heart snaps, like wire!

But what are you thinking of this man as I make him out?
Is it an image or a type that you seem to tout.
was it all his fault with no one else to blame,
Or were there cracks in the story that they both will claim-

Spit that and live that,
Hate when you love that!
You rip that and tear that,
Scream like you know that!

Stop for

If OnlyIf only our lives
could be like the hills;
Rolling on forever
with peace and simple beauty.

If only our hearts
could be like the stars;
twinkling and shining
as a beacon to all.

If only our minds
could be like a lily;
sweet and pure white
among a rainbow of colors.

If only our hands
could be like a blank paper;
washed of the blood
from all the sins we've committed.

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Poetry is what We Do Here

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Submitted: December 13, 2012
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by *PrussianPersephone, Dec 13, 2012, 11:14:38 AM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

What is a heartbeat,
without the heart?
What is a dream,
without the conscience?
What is a word,
without the letters?
What is a hope,
without the faith?
What is a soul,
without the self?
What is a kiss,
without the love?

What am I,
without you?

Pulsateby *PrussianPersephone

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

Trying for a different style. Basically, I'm bored to death in class at the moment, and this came to me. So I wrote it. Not that I have any experience in the romance department in real life--I've never been kissed, never been crushed on that I know of, never had a crush other than fictional characters, and never had a boyfriend.

I just wonder what the world would be like without this thing they call "love," I suppose.

Go me and my sappy attempts at being a romantic.

This thing sucks. I can't write poetry. Bleh.

~~mad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~yellowfire7 Dec 29, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I've been going through your deviations, and all of them are excellent. I can't vouch for your Hetalia fics because I don't read Hetalia fics but you might force me to start. Ending up on this one by complete coincidence, I have to applaud you on so many well-written collections of words. No matter which one I went to, they all felt like they had substance, something alive behind the page. This one, specifically: oh, those first two lines and I was hooked. They're simple phrases, simple questions, but they bring up so many emotions and questions of a greater truth and they do it just right.

Thank you for the experience. It was wonderful.

*PrussianPersephone Dec 30, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

_{I don't blame you, Hetalia can be terrifying for some people. It's fine.}

And, well...I really can't believe the depth of this comment. I'm glad you enjoyed reading this piece, and your words mean a lot.

~inkwolfokaim Dec 17, 2012

This is amazing for someone who has never had a relationship. I have been in a couple before. This... Is just...Wow!

*PrussianPersephone Dec 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Haha, thanks, then...I'm just a strange one.

~inkwolfokaim Dec 17, 2012

No you're not! You're an amazing writer!

~TitoRoxas-CotoUchiha Dec 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I also wonder what world would be like without love... But you have alot of potencial at romanticism. It doesn't sucks... In fact, it's very good, you CAN write poetry. "Not anybody can be an artist, but an artist can come from anywhere."

*PrussianPersephone Dec 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you very much then; your words mean quite a lot.

~TitoRoxas-CotoUchiha Dec 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You're very welcome.

~TitoRoxas-CotoUchiha Dec 16, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Sorry if is hard to understand, I've alot without speaking in english TwT

~CardinalDesertFox Dec 15, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Your attempt isn't sappy. Rather, I think it touches on elements and components and how you can have one, but it doesn't necessarily make the other. A sort of "no light without shadows" idea. Lovely!

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