Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Wings spread upon the back,
OF the Valkyrie on the attack.
Her breath crisp in the frozen air,
Her hair burning like fire,
She won't be fair.

The dark must back away,
EXODUS!

You are in my way.
I will not hesitate.
I will awaken my soul.

I will not back down.
For this gets old.

Remain indifferent,
My path will remain the same.

I am Valkyrie.
Hear.
My name.
Tempest burns brightly within Kekay. She is awakening and all who she hates will have their blood spilled. This will be ******...
Lady Bird May 2016
an alluring portrait of beauty
a painting worth adoration
the portrayal of love
mending its flow of art
the starlit eyes
holds a broken heart
so fragile yet easy
to spot the lies
in the fallen mind
AM Apr 2015
You
"You don't know me", you told me once

You're probably right—I don't
I only know this;
You love to play your mind game
Cause I will keep on losing
You have a nicotine kiss
Cause I quit smoking for yours
You left then you come back
Cause you cannot deny me
You speak softly
Cause you always pull me close
You look beautiful asleep
Cause I'm attached to your sighs
You listen
Cause you keep things to yourself
You barely let me in
Cause you might change me

And you fond of me
Like I do you
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
If all you seek is a release for your testosterone and a hiding place for your hormones then leave me in peace, for I'd much rather wrap myself around the words of greater men like Bukowski, or Hemingway, or Poe, Wilde, Cummings or Nietzsche.

They'd write about the words that slip from my lips and the way in which they somehow all of a sudden take them back to their childhood when they were three years old again, standing in the kitchen doorway, observing the verbal missiles being shot during the bitter separation of the parents marriage. 


They'd write about my eyes and the way they glisten with hope, brown orbs lit up like a fire, only to be dampened out again with realisation and truth and disappointment.

But, these boys, they don’t bother trying to find out exactly what, or who, I am. yet their concerns regarding me lie within more trivial areas.

They don’t know the map of green and blue that my veins depict. they don’t know the emotion that washes over me and grabs a choke of me, leaving me decomposed and gasping for breath. they don’t know the way the mechanics of my mind work. stop ******* disregarding my soul, my PERSON.

I am more than a body, i am more than a body, i am more than a body, i am more th-

in the words of Sylvia Plath, “kiss me and you will see how important i am.”
Moon Ariella Dec 2014
"You have to prepare yourself for her,
I could never just stand still and greet her;
it was too much at once

her eyes are like magnetic portals,
just waiting to teleport your soul
into a completely different realm of paradise

anything and everything is the greatest time of your life
when you have the moon with you

feeling her veins is my favourite sport,
it's intense...
like when your father lets you walk to school by yourself
for the first time
and you are desperately looking for the road sign

you finally see it and your entire body state changes,
you feel safe and relieved;

that feeling times by 33 thousand."

- G.M
- This is my favourite thing anyone has ever said about me
Äŧül Nov 2014
I love the winters,
And the snowy hills too.
I love the mountains,
And the chocolaty peaks too.
Let me snap your portrait,
Yes you will pose elegant for me.
And it's your thought on my heart.
My HP Poem #695
©Atul Kaushal
Darby Hewitt Oct 2014
Stained thoughts of hollow words.
Hollow words with broken meaning.
A bitter taste, a sick feeling.

A toast to a night I cant remember,
poison in my veins,
but no, no fever.

Practiced smiles and routine portrayal.
So imperfect, expected betrayal.

Eat the lies, curled around your tongue.
Don't choke, don't run.
Meek human, don't cry.
Numb yourself, I know you can.

Numb yourself, it feels better in the end,
just try.

*-dh
Kristen Ordonez Aug 2014
I could write the lives of those behind the glass-
For the young couple that smiles quietly over a full table of food;
For the graying dog whose head perks up every time a bicycle passes;
About the television that plays for an empty living room;
For the children's faces that are lit up by the screen of smart phones
rather than a parent's bad jokes;
About the impurities that rip through the air over a curfew argument.
But I wouldn't want to intrude.
Others lives are meant to be seen through fuzzy goggles,
Not binoculars

— The End —