ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Wind blows
Harsh icy
Breezes.
Outside,
The snow
Reveals
A story;
My heart
Speaks,
Emptied
Of love.
Emotions
Blow wild
In icy winds
Found in
Hell's depths.
Harsh icy
Breezes.
Outside,
The snow
Reveals
A story;
My heart
Speaks,
Emptied
Of love.
Emotions
Blow wild
In icy winds
Found in
Hell's depths.
Literature
The Journey
Beneath my skin, my veins pulse with desire
To know why I am here.
As I journey to find the answers to life,
I sail through the monotonous seas
That stretch forever beyond the horizon.
As my ship sails towards the dry land,
Mountains tower before me,
Filling me with both awe and intimidation.
But the mountains are eroding as time passes by,
Into merely fragments of what they once were.
I move my eyes and watch the glaciers
Melt slowly into rivers.
But even though they disappear,
They melt to provide water for all life on this planet.
You could say rivers are created by glaciers for a purpose.
I ponder those mountains and glac
Literature
La caja (algun dia)
Tirada en el patio esta la caja, sin etiquetas ni marcas, una simple caja. Todos pasan, pero nadie mueve a la caja, estática e inerte percibe los pasos, esos pequeños murmullos que la hacen recordar que no está sola y aun así el abismo continua.
En todos sus años de caja esta ha estado cerrada, pues ningún hombre ha decidido hacerse cargo de la solitaria caja, la cual carga con su contenido en el exterior; una caja inversa quizás será.
No tendremos remedio que contar que esa caja olvidada por todos más presente no podría estar, es el ombligo del mundo. Tras de ella se esconde la línea qu
Literature
Zapatista
She was an undead bloodhound—
She was a cement mixer dressed up like a martini glass
Let me tell you she
She couldn’t snap her fingers, thank God
I don’t believe in genies but this one,
If she could snap those fingers, you’d give her all three.
Can’t tell you where she is now
Didn’t get a forwarding address
Or a number, really
Just an old-fashioned girl, in some ways
Hippy necrofascist trombone player in others, you know?
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
When you're so hurt and broken that you can spend a moment contemplating the way the snowstorm outside is like your heart. The way that your heart has been through so much Hell that all that's left is a barren cold...
I don't necessarily mean relationship sort of love that most immediately assume. I mean that, family love, etc. Specifically, for me, who else shall I write about but my mother whilst referring to our treacherous relationship as mother and daughter.
I don't necessarily mean relationship sort of love that most immediately assume. I mean that, family love, etc. Specifically, for me, who else shall I write about but my mother whilst referring to our treacherous relationship as mother and daughter.
© 2015 - 2024 LMW-The-Poet
Comments10
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
The nostalgia of winter can reaaly touch our hearts, doesn't it?