A Poet's RomanceShe was the quiet sort,
tsunamis tucked
within her eyes,
anxieties pinned
to pottery skin;

she would mold herself
into moonlight butterflies
and glist'ning calla lilies,

pure and white and
beautiful.

and when night cast
itself upon her in
heated, hard'ning flames,

she’d smash herself
upon the rocks
and in morning start
again.

MonophobiaYour hand found my heart with ease,
just as your words always found cracks in weakened armor,
and with the same fluidity that constantly drew my gaze,
filling me with childish need atop the comfort of company,
even if lonely:
we were never ones to stand individually.

Then you play my heart strings,
with the skill of devoted pianists and the poise
of Egyptian princes,
garbed in such confidence I have no choice but to move my lips
to words hummed beneath your steady breath;
the words my heart stammers over,
as weak a fool as ever.

Necessities mash like fevered lips,
merging us as one being,
one entity of which to rejoice with

The Concept of PerspectiveI unfurl with lavender,
wild and stretching possibilities
within velvet serenity.

I sway joyously with conducting trees
and fall with musical, tumbling leaves,
recognition whole;

and for once,
time does not govern
but witnesses.

I change like the seasons,
no complicated reason...
just that I do;

it is as they always say:
some things, they never change.

The Wind Beneath My WingsA gust,
Ruffling the feathers of my charcoal wings
Hung low in my despair.
A tilt of the chin
Upwards,
To the dark midnight of hopes and dreams
I cannot reach,
Twinkling as if they still are beckoning me.
I was numbed.
I gave up on them long ago.

Another soft caress;
Like a push urging me gently forward.
It is not like the cold I am accustomed to,
But warm as it rushes past me.
Please wait…
I have not felt the wind in so long.

So much time spent nailed to the ground.
Do they even work anymore;
These blackened wings of mine,
Tainted with the darkness I used to dwell with
And ruined by my impurities?
Though they are ta

If Love Would Leave a LegacyYour lovely crystalline bones,
wrapped tight inside chilled casing,
laying strewn against old cherry wood
with company of lover's notes upon your lower lip;
a last caress of parchment as we bury you in earth.

Goodbye my love, Goodbye,
words that refuse to leave lips chapped and clamped in mourning,
as silent and white as knuckles curled in trembling fists.
Reddest rivers slink sultrily down tight airways, filled with aching hunger,
and sliding alongside sores of salivated lies,
where I swallowed all my silent sobs in concurrence with
these barbed and yearning sentiments.
It was nowhere near enough.

Regret shall rid unsightly

Dare to DreamSo bravely envisioning goals within your mind,
those same goals that slowly change to dreams,
reflected in your eyes not just the aspirations
of a creative mind,
but of a dreamer.

The smallest of smiles,
as if to seal the deal...

already so eager to reach your destination,
with butterfly wings strapped to your back
and arms outstretched to soar.

Practice Makes PerfectI feel the blow to my very bones
And as painful as it is,
I do not cry out.
But more painful is the agony inside my chest,
The chaos,
And the constricting of my heart;
The way it skips a beat and I forget to breathe.

I guess I deserved it for my thoughtless words,
But why so hard?
Why with so much force?
And why to someone you supposedly love?
But love is pain
And without it you cannot grow closer.
So I take it all in silence,
My eyes downcast.
I look everywhere but her eyes.
I know there will be regret,
But it is nothing compared to the betrayal I feel.
She said she would never do it again.
Is this the proof of her prom

Crumbling FacadeHeart screaming,
Crying out for release,
Emotions wound around its surface as it
Breathes life inside your chest.
They pull tighter,
Like strings on a puppet;
The pain rips through your being,
But nothing can erase your obedient smile
And your rosy, dimpled cheeks.
If only the tears weren't falling…

A Time of GreyYou've moved on but I remember those grey days,
ink scrawled onto worn, crumpled paper.
Words my escape, indifference my mask;
all were things I used to shove everything down.
I would keep shoving, too, until I choked on every last
one of these cruel, barbed words.
On days like this, writing seems not to be a talent,
but a curse, eating away at my soul as the bottle is sealed shut once more.

Just like those grim days which were cloudy and rainy,
I remember, quite clearly, the color that exploded from you.
Opposites attract, perhaps, but I had yearned for such brilliance:
a light in the dark, a color to disturb the grayscale.
I rem

YearningDo you know what it's like
To love someone to the point of agony?
To the point it's excruciating to know
You can never be one soul?
Do you know how it feels
To have your heartbeat sync to theirs,
And to wish, that in that moment, they could merge?

But we shall stay separated;
We can only be ourselves.
But I cannot forgive this part of me
That remains yearning for your soul.

Bone-danceMy skeleton is night
and solace,
ever the drifter
in powdered skies and
hollowed sight.

These red rivers
stir and breathe
in bone-dance:
temptation’s lullaby
for a width and stretch of slumber.

Kisses give soul to
granite marble;
and my bones,
(oh, what dreaming bones):

they dance no more.

SexualityThoughts plague my broken mind,
having no sense or feel for time.
I lay awake and count the wishes
my thoughts seem to touch.

Another sleepless night
from another stupid fight.
Was it worth anything?
A wound in the midst of healing.
All I can do is cover my mouth
and hope my sobs don't come out as shouts.

By the time I finish my hair is wet
from the trail my tears have left.
I tremble and shake under the weight of the knowledge
that I haven't confronted the worse problem yet.

Will I be accepted
or just flat out rejected?
I can't help that the way I feel
isn't what they wanted to hear.
but don't I deserve a chance to be happ

.Were We Not MarionettesI bend
as
she bends,
arms a graceful
bridge of mourning—

our eyes
rippling plains of remembrance.
(but at least we remember)

I lean beside
her,
both hopeless
heaps of wood
and string;

pirouettes fall
in time to blurry
rivers

and irises plead
only as allowed:

moisturizing this
shell of
splintered skin.

04 - Remember MeThink not of decay when reapers lay claim,
Nor of sharp loss in following mourning;
On that day let hushed pleasantries acclaim.
And kiss the life from dulled eyes, unseeing.

Find not thy feet above flower-laid stones:
‘Neath earthly linen I shan’t rouse for thee.
So whether memories make new or old:
Beloved love, remember me fondly.

Sell thy sorrows to swift merchanting winds,
Be stolen by thy existence and time.
Overlook me for sanity’s defense,
But discard me not to the undefined.

My life doth re-begin through memory,
So my beloved love: remember me.

UnfoundedI cram words within murky, hollow spaces,
replicating ways in which blood fills a wound.

I squeeze articles and adjectives—
supporting metaphors and similes—
into tight-fitting corners,
until that which is empty begins to bloat.

The ache of something missing,
the loss of one internal, now painfully unknown:
it finds no satisfaction within passion
and phrases so desperately created, upheld.

Why give transparent, misleading hope…
Does pleasure derive from humiliation—
the catalyzing of previously weakened hearts?
Where is the limit of cruelty defined,
if not in the cries and weeping of dreams:

Language wilts

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More from ~Nullibicity

01Shall I compare thee to a rose's thorn,
Both equal in elegance and violence?
Thou hath stuck hard my heart and left it torn,
Yet still I reply with perseverance.
Is this what is referred to as madness—
Though insanity might be more suited?
My reflection, a stranger I repress,
Bears flesh of which love's cruelty is branded,
And though it's unseen, remains eternal.
If born anew, would my love be pardoned?
Love blinded my sight, left me hateful,
And my poor heart blackened, disheartened.
I'm rid of you, once more solitary,
Still missing the love that cleaved through my veins.

The Musings of a PoetExpectations are piled high,
so high that I find myself shielding eyes from sun.

Perhaps this grounded pile aims to be a bird,
one that soars within highest blue of stretching sky?
My eyes trail its impressive height, succeeding skyscrapers and
inching f u r t h e r.

It only stops when it surpasses all, pursuing the ultimate goal:
Perfection.

Then from a throne of sky it calls
down to me.
Wary, insecure, but desiring pride and affection,
I take on these expectations—
both Yours and Theirs.

When I fell from such a height there was no hope of further trial;
I had been dealt the final verdict.
[ F A I L U&

Winter's Tears It became the gentle kiss upon his lungs.
Slow at first it flowed,
Filling sacks with liquid death,
Though, not long after, the violent swirls filled him to the brim.
As the sunlight breached his azure prison, his last breaths
Departed in a flurry, rising to dissolve absently on the lagoon's calm surface.

Yet here, a victim myself, I find myself saying "rest in peace;
Those claimed by chilly currents and continuous ripples,
Those whose body never once knew cold until submerged below the ice,
And nothing but ice will remain, even after it's been overturned, chiseled, and mel

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Crescendo

by ~Nullibicity, Aug 11, 2012, 11:15:58 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

_{Cellos sing an agony of the heart;
an astringent song of parting,
tearing at tears burrowed deep within the iris.

Emptiness fills the void of your absence,
accompanied by an intolerable yearning
which asphyxiates me, submerges me
within tears I leave unshed.

Please mollify me, liberate me,
of your reminiscence, of this attentive desertion;
my trembling whispers cannot stray from your name.
I cannot dream of alien touches, or others' devoted affections:
the salvation provided for the heart I keep in darkness.
and I find I cannot blind it to the joys of light once entirely experienced,
and so candidly felt.

I blame you for this susceptible heart,
broken into trepidation as it stutters in bloody veins,
dreading the things which stir and move it to emotion.

On concrete steps I make my grave,
Mimicking the moon in silence and posture.
I lay within a cradle of my own arms, yearning for that
of a different embrace,
one that brings not cold aches of bitter flesh.
What have you done to me?}

243

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Crescendoby ~Nullibicity

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_{There are parts of this poem I really like, and others that I know need work, but I cannot seem to fix it anymore than I already have (it's a great improvement from my first draft. I had to rewrite it three times). As usual, it is wordy... however I hope it will still be enjoyed! Perhaps I will be of the right mindset soon, and I can come back and look at it with fresh perspective.

Critiques, as always, are greatly and deeply appreciated!
_{Thanks for favorites and views!
___________________
Inspiration: songs involving cellos and pianos are sometimes my go to music when I'm depressed, or to produce inspiration. This time various ones helped me in succeeding!}}

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Submitted on: August 11, 2012
File Size: 1.2 KB

Views: 243
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~RenosGirl77 Jan 22, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This...is almost what happened to a friend of mine in this situation (if I'm reading it right). Fortunately he didn't manage to go through with it, and is on the mend now. But still...wow that touched a nerve. But in a good way, too.

~Nullibicity Jan 26, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I'm so glad it could touch you: This is such a compliment to any writer, since writing must be given fingers to touch. To hear I have succeeded with this piece... I am touched, myself! Thank you!

I was sorry to hear about your friend, however. I am so happy he did not go through with it. (I've had many close calls with my friends, but I could not imagine what I would do if they pressed ahead successfully.)

~RenosGirl77 Jan 27, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

You are most welcome!!

The emotions in this piece were just so raw and biting - like all of your pieces, (and like all fantastic poetry!) the emotions and imagery stayed with me long after I'd finished reading it.

Thank you for your kind words - I wouldn't know what to do either. My friend is coping much better now - he says it's a case of taking things one day at a time and just pressing forward, remembering to appreciate the good things and that he wouldn't want him to die. I think your poem helped me to understand the situation a little better, so thank you for that.

~v3n0m607 Aug 26, 2012 Student Digital Artist

This one was also really good at explaining loneliness

still like the other the best so far though. Not that I didnt like this one

~Nullibicity Aug 27, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

This was a more personal piece while Monophobia was a piece of inspiration. I will agree that the other was definitely stronger, though!
I've been trying to experiment with new techniques recently, so sometimes I'll either hit the target or miss... it's all about learning from trial and error

~v3n0m607 Aug 27, 2012 Student Digital Artist

Seems to be going well

~Kwiboh Aug 13, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Haha, you want to know what's amusing, Kelsi? I had to google up the definition of some particular words in your piece like...five times? XP Pfft, I suppose I should really work on my vocabulary. I've been meaning to but I'm not sure how to do it. Tips? :3

But anyway~ After referring to the dictionary and rereading it with all words I didn't know decoded, I felt taken away. It is an emotional piece that actually touched me. The desperation of the persona really tugs away at my feelings and this is mainly because of how you wrote this - all the use of beautiful words and phrases that caught my attention. I just couldn't take my eyes off the piece until I finished it and then...As I said earlier, a gush of melancholy. You've done a good job, Kelsi! ^^

~Nullibicity Aug 14, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Well, when I'm writing a poem, I do it in a Microsoft Document. I write down my idea, and then when I go to the process of strengthening my adjectives or verbs, I right click the word and hit "thesaurus". This always brings up words that are either so perfect for the meaning I had intended, or stronger to support more substance. I usually will then remember them, and that's how I slowly build my vocabulary.

I'm so thrilled to hear it touched you, and could portray that melancholy feeling! I was definitely feeling that when I wrote it, because the songs I listened to had me almost tearing in a gentle sadness... the worst kind of sadness as the confusion of whether to smile or cry always makes me cry anyway

Thanks for your insightful comment. I always appreciate your extremely kind words, and they always bring a smile to my face!

Thank you so much~!

=schongslipper Aug 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

I really like the background of music you painted, but i feel like your metaphor in the first line was a bit too obvious for your style. I would also keep the theme of music consistant throughout the piece. The rest of the content is beautiful and perfect as always =]

~Nullibicity Aug 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Also, sorry to add another reply _{_{(I meant to put this in the other reply. I am so forgetful !)}}, but would you say it is mostly the first line that needs fixing, or should I expand upon the whole first stanza? I was just curious what you thought would be best: I value your opinion so very much!
I shall make notes upon your reply, and make sure I don't forget this piece needs some work!

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