madness-viarti
I'm primarily an author, writing for quite a few fanfictions currently, as well as roleplaying on about five sites. Now, before you go and scowl at your screen, my fanfictions I spend WEEKS, MONTHS even on the story line, and studying the characters, it's not just useless smut, it's actual writing. Additionally, the same goes for my roleplaying sites, but, as it turns out, writing poetry is actually sort of relaxing, and I need the practice for an upcoming original novella. / / So, here I am. / / I enjoy Modernism Imagery, which means nothing has to rhyme, I don't have to state what all the symbolism means, the whole shebang. I also enjoy free verse, and I promise that each of my poems has at least ANOTHER meaning within them the first that you read, so give them another peek!
The Flower of the Desert
Blooms
To Spite the Sand
.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 12:36 AM UTC
She stands the one that runs from reality,
From its open brutality,
She fell back to the delusions of legendary,
To the tales of gods, demons, and speaking weaponry.
To the others, this is all there is to find,
A mad woman, with half a mind.
To the man at her side, there was more to see,
Her eyes as clear as the raging sea.
You owe me the world, she would accuse,
Her words never once found a thoughtful muse,
Before they flew into the air,
Twisting and winding as a snare.
No one could recall, to this day,
What she had once forgotten to say.
You owe me the world, she would assure,
The question of her past, a tempting lure,
Never would it be told, she promised,
For it is beyond my fading knowledge.
No one could guess, to this day,
Her story untold, and she rather liked it this way.
You owe me the world, she would add,
Her hair oddly clad,
Twisted and wound with the braids of a child,
With every movement, the jewels woven within smiled.
No one imagined, to this day,
Why white decorated her young head, and this way, it would stay.
You owe me the world, she reminds,
Her thoughts the most figetting of minds,
Eyes ever watching,
Her guard ever plotting,
Hunting or fleeing, who was to know?
Even to him, such was never to be made a show.
The man, aware of his ignorance,
Stood his ground, and demanded the many answer’s appearance,
For I, he had claimed,
Have stood by you always, asked no questions, he proclaimed.
Answer me now, everything that you have hid,
Without pause or lid.
I am owed such things, he continued direly,
For I have loved you always and entirely.
If you have ever felt this love’s return,
Answer me now, or to you, my back will forever turn.
Turn from me, then, she had thrown,
I have never known you to wail and moan!
If by my side you have stood,
For answers, no one else could,
Then return to me never again,
You traitorous, wretched man!
After the man was good and gone,
The woman numbly whispered some old song,
Its lyrics worn and old,
Quiet upon a voice once so bold.
You owe me the world, she sang with a voice of fine,
Because, you stole mine.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:37 PM UTC
.
Opinions are like directions;
.
Sometimes, you don't have to be right.
.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC
The woman of power, of the final hour,
Stood upon the gaping edge of death,
Savoring her final due breath,
Recollecting her spent time, as the demons beneath, did climb.
The woman, once unknown, many must atone,
With a simple display, she tore the lights that held the night at bay,
For nothing as powerful as she, should anyone but agree,
Resting upon her belt, the stars forever dwelt.
The woman, demur of the end, a challenge to death, she had penned,
A game, we shall partake, with eternal lives at stake,
For if I do not wish to die, your purpose, you must defy,
With a stolen piece, her years did increase.
The woman of blackened markings, her mind of ever-workings,
Stood tall upon her mare, chased with twisting white hair,
Upon her belt, rested pouched treasures, glittering fondly with pleasure,
For her company never to shake, as her pale eyes did forever take.
She was the woman of Cree, far beyond The Black Ink Sea,
The taker of stars, leaving naught but empty scars,
She was the winning player of Death's Game, her rewards, to gain,
With the twisting marks of power, deep to the pit, she did glower.
For nothing of its sort,
Shall ever hold her short,
From any a task within her aim,
A woman such as I, victory shall I claim.
And with that thought dancing across her mind,
She leapt, and left the mortal world behind.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
~
Poetry is the desire,
To stop the world from turning
~
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
Oh online little notebook,
For everyone to judge.
You click and clack, dutifully serving
Their owners unwilling to budge.
With flickering screens,
And dancing fonts,
The normal life, your presence haunts.
For your company, that you keep,
Are false, and shallow, and cheap.
Their lives continue, if yours does not.
All that entertains,
Eventually, will rot.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
This one here, why I got it from a Pirate,
He stood with a peg leg and a beard full of knots,
The deck beneath him was littered with hefty dots,
A rather peculiar sight, if I was to be asked,
Which I was, and with that, this eye became glassed!
The one over there, I suppose was from that Siren,
Her skin was blue, eyes a shimmering gold,
Her chest was bare, a sight that the sailors adored to behold,
Excuse me, miss, I inclined my head, "While this is all well and pleasing,"
She clocked my tooth out, when I continued, "In this air, you must be freezing!"
Why that one there, that's from a Queen,
She stood with regal grace and beauty,
Though in my opinion, her dress and manner was rather snooty,
When asked in regards to a task appointed to me,
I informed her that if it was so important, SHE could go water the overgrown tree!
That one there, why that's from a Fairy,
It resided within a nest of glittering gems and jewels,
Each of course, lifted from some wandering fools,
Eyes gleaming with desire and greed,
I soon found those little Fairies are capable of bites to make you bleed!
Over here, you'll see it plainly, is from a Dragon,
It was a plague on the town, its wake of destruction spreading wide,
With grasping claws and snapping teeth, it gobbled up my bride,
I hunted it where it slept, and moved to strike it dead,
And with that, I lost my head!
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:06 AM UTC
Stitch me up with words and ink,
Between the pages, let the black sink,
For I am a tale,
One to be told,
Lest I become human and *****
I am fragile, hold me tight between your pages,
There, I can live for lifetimes, for the endless ages,
Cover to cover, I shall be bound,
Until the next reader comes around,
Never shall it occur to me the words are simple cages,
Lest I become human, and *****
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 2:35 AM UTC
Push it down, deep down beneath,
Let it boil, let it roll, let it seethe,
The careless eye shall miss it all,
One word to them, amidst the deafening scrawl,
Take this moment in, simply breathe.
I don't need to deal, don't need to cope,
I live each day, with a dream and hope,
I'm not broken, you'll see,
I can laugh, and be wild, and act free,
Does it look as if misery holds me tight in rope?
Breath fills my lungs, I live another day,
This world is mine, moldable as clay,
Loss touches the hearts of all World Chasers,
The Go-Getters, the Fastest-Pacers,
We see the light, shining through the grey.
So long as we do not contemplate our loss,
Clinging to our hearts as thick as the aging moss.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
Silver light spills to the rocks below,
Gleaming, glittering, glistening,
Beneath the still pond water.
~
Glossed scales revel in the silver,
Rising from the water in a leaping dance,
Shimmering, sparkling, shining,
Beneath the celestial light.
~
Only to drop back,
Beneath the rippling pond water.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC