[x]

A Standing CorpseUnder the seething heat of the sun
A juniper stands on a dry hill
Like so many surrounding him
He was burned to death by a wildfire

His twisted branches are smoky white
Still reaching out for all the heavens
In botanical rigor mortis
Commemorating desperation

He is a skeleton of a tree
A standing corpse in desert sunlight
Never to drink another raindrop
As dry as the arth that hold his roots

I step closer to this juniper
Small clouds of dust kicked up by my feet
I gently touch his bark and wonder
How longuntil his form break apart

Shade's ReprieveBeneath the shade of a juniper
I rest amid arid, yellow grass
Leaning with my arms propping me up
For many miles before me, dry hills
Stand covered in juniper and sage
Bathed in scorching unobscured sunlight
I take another swig of water
From my bottle and slowly inhale
Ever thankful for the shade's reprieve

A poem for the MoonThe moon is like a lamp in the night
It shines down on the world with its pure light
It listens to the calm sleep
Of its world’s little sheep
So gently is the light that embraces us
And in the day it leaves without making a fuss
Unnoticed in the day, but the moon is there
And it watches us and follows us everywhere
It shines its soothing light in my darkest days
It tries to cheer me up in its own ways
For me, the moon is something I could sing about
And it will listen to my voice and I have no doubt
Oh lovely moon so big, so round, so white
Never stop shining your pure light which shines so bright

StargazingI have the most wonderful view
As I sit here talking to you
I look to the sky
As a bright star flies by
Hoping my wish will come true

JasmineJasmine
Driving down the road, windows rolled down,
Lovely young ladies wrapped in their evening gowns.
Wave to them as you pass by,
Down here in Charleston there's no need to be shy.

Take a deep breath of air,
This wonderful breath that we all share,
Clean, pure air that cleanses our minds,
It lets us calm down and unwind.

Jasmine in the air
Jasmine is the smell everywhere
Jasmine in the air
Tuck a flower in your hair.

Driving down the country road,
Within my hand a flower I hold,
A scent only one flower possesses
Watch it grow and cling to terraces.

Jasmine is the scent
The scent of our coastal world
We like it how it is
And we do

Seasons changeThe cardinal darts through the gleaming snow,
Wings beating harsh against the coldest winds
In fields of white where flowers won't grow,
Where leaves hit frozen rivers at their bend.
Life barely exists in this time of cold,
Too frigid for the little ones to play!
I then start to think of summers of old,
Of clouds in the sky, when fun filled my day.
Though, winter never lasts for very long...
The snow will start to melt and soon will fade.
The birds can resume their chirping and song
As they perch in the trees of the now green glade.

Look to the sky and you will surely see
The most brilliant blue bird soaring free.

ForestsForests
Much
like us,
They grow.
Much,
like us,
They fall.
As you count the rings,
The more you begin to know.
As you count the wrinkles,
The more you recall.
But when trees are surrounded by too many others
They cannot
g
r
o
w
;
Much like us.

Broken WordsAll through morning I was speechless
Words I broke in helpless fury
Many times they have betrayed me
I will let you be the jury
Now I'm glueing fragile pieces
That refuse to stick together
Some of them are so tender
Soft like dawn and light like feather
Some are serious and strong
Others jumpy, restless, funny
All of them give so much love
Like a smile that's bright and sunny
They're a part of me, my own
They have taught me many things
We have traveled many roads
They have given me the wings
They have shown me way through mazes
Held me up when I fell down
Sang to me the words of lyrics
Now they're broken and run-down
I have no right to judge them
They have logic of their own
All that happens has a reason
Love and care I should have shown

RocA flash of white against the blue
With a giant eagle's hue
It dives into the evergreen
Amongst the gleaming grass' sheen
And spreads its wings to dominate
Yet no other compensate
It rises high to disappear
It ascends to the heavens sheer
To when the thunder makes its sound
The azure lightning cracks the ground
Crimson flames spew from its maw
Tides of hunger churning the floor
Howling winds rip through the glades
For as the moon stands, sunlight fades

Upon the Loss of my Grandfather's TreeA long time ago, before I came to be,
My grandfather came home to plant a small tree.
The sapling, it grew, and he watched overtime,
Not a clue that one day that tree would be mine.

By the time I was born, the tree still yet grew,
And dangling from branches, a swing made for two.
My grandpa, he’d sit there with my tree and I,
And continued to do so until he had died.

But still I’d sit under the tree every day,
Like a consoling friend with nothing to say
I’d stay there for hours, through summer and cold,
It may not have been Grandpa, but it had his soul.

Years came and passed. It was 2006.
With our house in ruins, we neede

ImageryTo paint a picture with the medium of words.

Drawn from a lexicon, articulating thoughts.

Choosing the subject, outlining the scene.

A person, an object, a diorama of green.

Words imbue colours, broad brush strokes the phrases.

Fine linear details etching historic faces.

A textural complexion formed by palette knife.

Capturing, immortal, a moment in life.

Summer's acid bright tinctures by splashes and dabs

Russets of Autumn to Winter's dull drabs.

Horizon distant mountains a dark lilac beyond.

Perspective then rooted by close nodding fronds.

A palette of colours describes a sunset.

A moment of sadness, grey tinged with regret.

A

Pale, Pure MoonlightIlluminating the dark, jewelled sky,
You’re so beautiful – you can easily catch the eye.
Resting next to the shimmering stars,
You’re so beautiful – you can make me forget any wars.

The peace you bring takes a tonne off my shoulder.
The happiness you provide takes off my back a boulder.
The calmness you offer removes all my headaches,
And the joy that replaces those shall last for decades.

The golden sun can be so fiery and ablaze,
But it is simply no more than a phase,
Stays in the morning, disappears in the night;
Whilst you stay always, yet very faint in its light.

However, those golden rays will never defeat you

Loyal is the beastLoyal is the beast

Loyal is the beast which slays those
Who would harm my child
With razor fangs and claws so sharp
An honour made of steel

He is of my blood
Our hearts beat in unison
He cries when i cry
Howling and wailing

Flow do the tears from his eyes
When comfort he does seek
Don’t dare cross my threshold

Welcome to his domain
Beware that you are a guest
If you pose any threat
He will kill you

A savage a monster
I hear the names you call
But you are wrong
You are blind

Would not you take your nails
Too the eyes of your foe
As your teeth sink into their throat
To protect your given child?

Loyal is the beast
Who would

HurricaneRain drizzles softly against my window pane,
The wind is like a lion. Branches snap
Signs fly, giving me plenty to write with.
Deaths occur yet I am immune; this time.
It’s a story on the television,
Effects I only see and hear.
I’ll head to bed, with everything I need
And wake up with it still here.

The Tree Over The StreamThe tree resembled to me love itself,
The sunlight a display of radiance,
The water a stream of passion, yourself
The owner of my summer allegiance.

Alas, this picture of sublimity
Would pass, becoming a three year winter.
Now, a picture of instability
Our base, innate connection would splinter.

As I sit committing my thoughts to paper,
My mind watches and ponders on those
Visions and desires, which fled as vapour
Fore my chance to share them with you arose.

Browse More Like This

Download File
HTML, 1.6 KB more ▶

Featured in Groups:

Not currently featured in any groups.

Details

Submitted: March 6, 2011
File Size: 1.6 KB

Link

Thumb

Statistics

Comments: 8
Favourites: 3 [who?]
Views: 65 (0 today)
Downloads: 0 (0 today)

[x]

Miasma

by ~Halcyon1990, Mar 6, 2011, 11:48:34 PM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,

Legs fly forth, beckon night

A creature of that from which it came,

All shudder to speak its name

Around two bags the spider sat,

Growing large, and growing fat

Up and down, the balloons fought,

Against the spider, not yet sought.

I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,

Many pincers with which to bite

A creature of that from which it came,

For its mother's sickness it is to blame

Around two bags the spider sat,

I can't remove it from where it's at

Up and down the balloons fought,

Poison has not yet the spider caught.

We prayed we could remove the spider, legs and all,

But it was big; it wasn't small

A blight across the nation, it could spread,

Leaving no one living, just the dead,

To poison the many, to kill the few,

Was all that was left that we could do

One will die, and one will not,

One will live, but one will rot.

We prayed we could remove the spider, legs and all,

So we poisoned it, and watched it fall

A blight across the nation, it could spread,

So we poisoned it; lopped off its head

To poison the many, to kill the few,

The chemo was a wrecking crew

One did die, and the other, not,

You can no longer see the cancerous spot.

Miasmaby ~Halcyon1990

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

This was an assigned piece that was required to use traditional verse. It was designed to show how limiting such structure could be, and it fully accomplished this task. It was also required to be X words in length, but I can't remember how many anymore.

As length grows, traditional verse becomes exponentially more limiting.

~RosieMarie12 May 23, 2011 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

the sudden interest in poetry you have, yes?

~Halcyon1990 May 25, 2011 Hobbyist Photographer

I suck at it, and have never improved.

~RosieMarie12 May 25, 2011 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

I dont like mine either, but I dont care to much what people think so I post it anyways (:

~Halcyon1990 May 28, 2011 Hobbyist Photographer

You're militantly uncaring. I like that.

~RosieMarie12 May 29, 2011 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

militantly? Im to lazy to go to Dictionary.com

~Halcyon1990 Jun 1, 2011 Hobbyist Photographer

Fightingly, warringly, etc.

~RosieMarie12 Jun 4, 2011 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

oh..
ha (:

~Halcyon1990 Mar 6, 2011 Hobbyist Photographer

Rainbow to symbolize rebirth and hope. I don't have any pictures of spiders.

More from ~Halcyon1990

Featured in Groups:

Details

Statistics

Miasma

Miasmaby ~Halcyon1990

The Journal Portal

Polls

What is your preferred drawing software?

deviantART [dee·vee·un'nt·ART]

Keep in Touch!

Deviousness

Add Media

Style