Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
In Dwimordene, in Lorien

Seldom have walked the feet of Men,

Few mortal eyes have seen the light,

That lies there ever, long and bright.

Galadriel! Galadriel!

Clear is the water of your well,

White is the star in your white hand

Unmarrred, unstained is leaf and land,

In Dwimordene, in Lorien

More fair than thoughts of Mortal Men.

To Flammifer of Westernesse.
 Dec 2013 Emma Domke
Shang
my eyes finally rested,
the perfect shade of pain's gray
Hers swiftly burned copper-red

we're bound to disappoint
along the way

always looking up to
someone out-of-reach

stammering over words,
just to make a point

the point is dull, anyway.
(C) Shang
 Dec 2013 Emma Domke
Ellie White
I used to compare you to a hurricane,
I used to describe what we had as something like a giant, destructive ring,
With a calm, seemingly odd centre,
I used to tell people, that when things were good, and going strong,
That we were in the centre, we were in the eye, and we had nothing to worry about because we had found the calm in the storm,
I was told to not compare us to something that is notorious for being destructive,
Because I was told that we were in fact, the opposite of that,
I was told that you were not a hurricane, and you were not the centre of the storm,
Instead, you were pure calm, and pure safety, likened to summer nights and sunsets,
As I grew wiser, I likened us to a hurricane more and more,
As the months passed, and we trickled through the cracks more and more,
It became more apparent to me that, we were not a summer sunset,
We were a hurricane,
When things were good, we lived in the centre of the storm,
We had calm, and peace and we did not have to worry about the mass destruction going on around us,
However, like a hurricane, storms move quickly and safe havens in the centre change,
The only mode of survival to keep your place in the eye of the storm is to adapt,
To move quickly with the change and the direction of the storm,
So we tethered ourselves to each other, so that even if we were on opposite sides of the calm,
Too far to touch,
Too far to see,
We were still connected so that if the storm moved, we could move with it together,
The funny thing about hurricanes though, is that they move quickly,
And sometimes you do not always see them changing course and direction,
So in the midst of our perfectly calm centre, we were thrown off course, and thrown in opposite directions, our tether which was keeping us together, tangled and weakening,
In the midst of the storm, and our calm being thrown off you got scared because this was the worst it had ever been,
And our tether was so damaged, and so strained that it felt like we would always be too far to touch, and too far to see,
You took, action, you cut me off, severing our tether and suddenly, we were not in the safe place in the centre of the storm,
We were thrown in opposite directions, into the destructive, black swirling rings that we had avoided with such courage,

And so here I am, beat up, black and blue, trying to find my way back into the centre of the storm,
Silently praying that maybe you are too.

EMW.
Winds whipping certainties into,
Tiny hurricanes,
Spinning around every drop of thought she
Disowns, discounts.
This turmoil, the only survival she's ever known,
Keeps her in the air, suspended, ambiguous, beautiful or terrifying?
So she shakes and cries in fear,
Of the day she stops spinning.

Surrounded by biting cold fronts,
Pushed around by sparks of warm relief,
She's a hot mess, sticky, humid, and alive with electric charge.

Her pleas bellowed into thunder,
Static shock breaking her voice,
Into something massively engulfing.
The kind of sound that makes a grown man feel small.

You can feel her coming from miles away.
She knows the weight of her presence better than anyone.
So lonely and heavy is her grief,
So bright and menacing is her capability.

Ironically, just the right balance of
Hot,  
           And cold,
                                 Positivity,
                                                     And negativity,
Swiftly reacting, turning, changing her,
Into this rain ridden,
Angst swollen,
Ferociously complex storm system,
Stealing the heat she can,
Clinging to any energy she once drew on.
Never releasing her festerings.
Standing above a world she cannot touch,
Without destroying.
I would tell you I can't go to bed because
hell is loving you in my sleep and
waking up alone
and that i'd rather never sleep again
than to live through that

I would tell you that every time I open my mouth
I want you to shut it
with yours

I would tell you that you have
the kind of glance that could crack
a ribcage
and make it feel
like heaven

And I know it sounds cliché but
your breath is the water that floods
into the roots of my stomach and grows
the daisies being kissed
back into you

If I had a lover I would call these
nauseating churns
"butterflies"

If I had a lover I would think of this
infection in my head
as "you're the one I can't live without"

If I had a lover I would tell you
being lovesick
doesn't actually make me sick

And if I had a lover
I would need to learn not to **** myself
in the process
Next page