| My prose. |
Prose
The Ice Queen's Note It surprises me now--though I realize it should have been apparent long, long ago--to find that I am cold. Watching the snow surround me, it becomes blatant. It is as if it is calling to me, as if I am a sister, or some kind of creature born of nature rather than of a woman's womb. Sometimes, perhaps, I can believe a cold, snow-birth over the story my mother tells. I am far too lovely to be my mother's daughter. The snow is such a frail, gentle thing. Beautiful, oh, I don't believe there's anything more beautiful in all of nature. Nothing quite so ever-pure and whThe Ice Queen's Note
by ~QyJx
Poetry
After Us - SonnetAfter us, I required surgery. Where a heart should have been, the doctors found the charred trunk of an old red wood tree the roots sapping life from an ashen mound. The city inside me lay covered in the soot of one thousand chimneys. There were no citizens, no one smothered in the fog. So they sealed me back up.After Us - Sonnet
After us, my eyes sank to my feet; they saw only blades of grass peering up from between slabs of cracked concrete, the grey trying in vain to smother the green. "Come," their wild thin lines of freshness called to me. &
by ~QyJx
SeedI am no different from a wild oak as you once were, before the forest grew up around you.Seed
I feel as though the apple fell from the tree and rolled down a cliff.
My growth is directed at the light of the sun— the warm yellow holding hands with the smooth green of leaves, pulling upwards— not by my roots. Though they do draw life from the Earth, they know nothing of the sky.
You were not a witness when I weathered the winter's storm. With the wind I whispered this; "The wind distorts," you said.
You were absent when I took root— &n
by ~QyJx
The Last Days of FebruaryIn the soft light of a full moon's glow stood one man, his bare feet in the snow.The Last Days of February
He had been lost in the forest when the sky had spoke, in the light of the moon, written in smoke. In ash it whispered warmth, in scent, bread; to the bank of a river the smoke-trail led.
On the opposite shore, a warm cabin rested, but to get there, he knew, he must be tested. His fingers and toes and lips would turn blue long before he reached the cabin, he knew.
The river was cold and mangy, he knew it would bite, so he clutched at his jacket, pulling it tight. Though
by ~QyJx
After UsAfter us, I required surgery when the doctors opened my chest, they watched a conscious heart wilt and leave ashes behind.After Us
After us, my eyes doubled in weight, saw only blades of grass peering up from between slabs of dark cracked concrete and followed their thin green lines of freshness upward.
I am a phoenix.
by ~QyJx
For YouFor youFor You
I am a solid stone, the redwood sapling swaying in the breeze, an endless fountain of crystalline quality.
For you
I cut down black mountains I have built, I tend my forests, clear my rivers.
I am a world, and you have sent shivering quakes throughout me, wandered onto every continent, stolen treasures from my kingdoms.
For all of these things I can only Thank you.
by ~QyJx
Lust vs LoveA flicker of lust-- a spine of string crying wax tears; "Purpose exists only in burning". Melted: a shapeless pool when dry it cracks with ease a third degree burn.Lust vs Love
The heat of blood-- the river Nile, immortal a steady flow from mother to child. Bitter-sweet at death a warmth never having known flame.
by ~QyJx
| This is my poetry. |
Critiques
by *Immuniselectrun
I'll start off by talking about your strong points: the tone was kept throughout the whole piece, which isn't easy to accompl...
Visitors
- Dec 2, 2009 @ 12:01 am~LittleMissBella
- Oct 28, 2009 @ 6:23 am~Hill-dan
- Oct 21, 2009 @ 6:39 am~WishingUnderThatStar
- Oct 9, 2009 @ 5:23 pm*Friedemann
- Oct 6, 2009 @ 5:18 pm~QyJx
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i was pulling out my heart so i could pin it to my sleeve
red hands
thx for the watch
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i was pulling out my heart so i could pin it to my sleeve
red hands
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Up on the mountain, as the blizzards closed in, there was a red glow in the snow. It was there all winter, and when the spring gales blew, the rubies glittered in the sunshine.
No one remembers the singer. The song remains.
-The Last Hero
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Those children are gifts from god -Madame Onigiri about her and Mori-Sempai's chidlren.
Avatar made by Technopoptart
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Support bacteria: it's the only culture most people have.
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