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Literature Text
He walks in beauty, like the night
Of countless stars and full moon skies
Illuminating skin snow white
Whilst poet's hearts bleed lullabies
Reflections mist with fragrant breath
As mirrors catch his mournful gaze
His heart resounding songs of death
While his soul dreams of love-kissed days
His fingertips compose the sound
A wordless echo of the past
His mind still sleeps beneath the ground
Where dying roses had been cast.
He walks in beauty like the night
His shadow gleams; each fallen tear
I yearn to make all his wrongs right
And kiss away his every fear..
Of countless stars and full moon skies
Illuminating skin snow white
Whilst poet's hearts bleed lullabies
Reflections mist with fragrant breath
As mirrors catch his mournful gaze
His heart resounding songs of death
While his soul dreams of love-kissed days
His fingertips compose the sound
A wordless echo of the past
His mind still sleeps beneath the ground
Where dying roses had been cast.
He walks in beauty like the night
His shadow gleams; each fallen tear
I yearn to make all his wrongs right
And kiss away his every fear..
Literature
Beauty!
Unobserved beauty
Deep in the forest they thrive
Bluebells make no sound.
2012 Delice1941
2nd April2012
Literature
Our Beautiful Sins
The last time you came to visit
I showed you my collection of sins
in their mayonnaise jar on the shelf
and you took it down and poured them out
and turned them over one by one
in your callused palms and between your fingers,
feeling their textures against your lips and across your windburned cheeks,
like so many pebbles plucked from the shore.
They were red and green,
a few of them purple
either smooth as lies or jagged as bitten nails
and some of them made you cry
and some of them turned you on
and I added a few more purple ones that night.
You kissed away my doubts
and in the morning we buried the jar in the back yard
wit
Literature
Beauty
I was born with porcelain skin.
(too pale for peoples fitting)
I was born with long, thick, golden hair.
(Jealously burns inside of them)
I was born with crystal blue green eyes.
(Their comments are unnecessary)
I was born with aesthetic curves.
("Fat" "big" is what they thought)
I was born with a wise mind and childlike soul.
("Weird" is what they called me)
I was born ugly.
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You may or may not have read this poem in my previous journal entry, I simply moved it here as I updated my journal and it was inspired by a beautiful night and a selection of photographs; though one especially.
Beauty that would inspire any poet.. any artist or musician alike. True beauty.
A single photograph can capture all the beauty in the world. Scultped perfection, every strand of hair, every curve and line.. Though a thousand photographs are nothing compared to what He truly is. My heart burns for him and I am aflame! I could draw him endlessly and nothing else. Weave his beauty into the prettiest songs...
One night of love and laughter is more precious than a lifetime of anything else... Yet I have been blessed with countless
Beauty that would inspire any poet.. any artist or musician alike. True beauty.
A single photograph can capture all the beauty in the world. Scultped perfection, every strand of hair, every curve and line.. Though a thousand photographs are nothing compared to what He truly is. My heart burns for him and I am aflame! I could draw him endlessly and nothing else. Weave his beauty into the prettiest songs...
One night of love and laughter is more precious than a lifetime of anything else... Yet I have been blessed with countless
© 2010 - 2024 Akhenaten-Aten
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I thought this was written really well, beautiful piece 