| This poem was inspired by my sister. It is one I'm most proud of. I think. |
Piano Piece
Newest
There is no Reason-there is no reason to believe that anyone would ever read my poemsThere is no Reason-
thoughts stagger about
drunk on blind optimism
this must be insanity (there are voices talking
over sense)
it appears that something's missing
in my head
I am my own enigma that needs
to figure out its story
by ~FaustScribe
I Had To Suffer A Little-I had to suffer a little- to see His face He appeared one morning when the sun rose and streamed between the blindsI Had To Suffer A Little-
I was asleep when I heard His step on the porch what I heard?- I'm sure I wanted to hear although I could not mistake a sound
It was in my head- the last thing.
I remember the sunlight like a rivulet streaming
I could not feel it- my eyes had been blinded and my doubt was gone
by ~FaustScribe
My newest stuff! Have a look through this, if you please.  |
Favourites
speaking to self"speaking to self"speaking to self
the way is not say the way is honestly be the understood way
we are actions taken - as not tales foretold - i shall be
llp - nov'09 - dA
by *alapip
to realize, as read (a waltz, ala Bach)to realize, as read
A better life, this pretty girl, deep dreaming,
No bitter strife, her better world, keep dreaming,
A brighter light, as letters curl, she's seeming,
~ ~ ~ ~
Understands the way, a better life, She sees the truth, this pretty girl, Much comes of deep dreaming,
Learning how to live, no bitter strife, Finds what buries her better world, She gives her all to keep dreaming,
Sees form within herself a brighter light, Thoughts also forming as letters curl, There, deep in her eyes,
by *alapip
Autumn WishShe built a house of willow wood under the hushed October sky and scattered moonstones in the reeds along the river banks and prayed for Autumn's sighs, to shake the west wind from her bones.Autumn Wish
She still yearns for summer's brilliance caught between the ocean's rocky shoals, and gathers seashells from the sand among the seaweed bed, and prays for Autumn's soul to haunt where once her bare feet tread.
by =Scarlettletters
anathemasqueradeburied alive beneath a pretty painted piece an elegant visage over anathematized fleshanathemasquerade
like dancing shoes slipped over introverted feet or mittens only muffling silent i love you's
comely hues in a masquerade of rouge porcelain perfections never shed a tear
terpsichorean puppet shows and freedom once a year to be who really hides behind the shrouded masks we wear
by =Hyperionic-Xmissions
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Maynooth
- Interests: Writing, poetry, drama, music, "experiences", spiritual stuff....
- Favourite movie: Little Miss Sunshine
- Favourite genre of music: Instrumental, ambient, indie, classical, post-rock.
- Favourite artist: Einaudi
- Favourite poet or writer: Adrienne Rich, D.H Lawrence
- Favourite photographer: Henri Cartier-Bresson
- Favourite style of art: Surrealism or Expressionism
- Operating System: Windows XP
- MP3 player of choice: Creative Zen
- Email: m.therese.ryan@hotmail.com
- MSN: m.therese.ryan@hotmail.com
deviantID
I am LaMer...a poet, writer and diarist. I also like photography. Lets see where this takes us, shall we? I'm on Facebook and Bebo. Find me if you like.  |
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a melting pot of truth and fiction
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
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{I am an artist. My tools are not a pencil, a paintbrush, oil pastels, a blank canvas, nor a sketchbook. My tool is a camera. I create images to magnify the beauty that surrounds us, to show it from a different perspective.}
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i am, i am, iam.
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An Irishman has an abiding sense of tragedy that sustains him through temporary bouts of joy.
all was quiet on the LaMer front, so i wanted to see that everything was well in your world
good luck with all your school stuff!
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