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What of LoveWhat of love is right or wrong
To only one
Should it belong
Though the heart may feel complete
It ever grows
With every beat
And soon another
Love may meet

What of love that hopes to find
Happiness
And peace of mind
Through devotion, always true
To promises made
With vows, I do
Bound together
As one from two

What of love that holds no claim
Asks for nothing
Seeks no gain
Only holds in tender embrace
And seeks the eyes
To sculpt the face
As fingers dance
The body's trace

What of love that makes its way
Through the shadows
Of the day
Into a lover's arms at night
Where passion burns
And love delights
Could this be wrong
Yet feel so right

Wh
Mary-AnneShe was the nice little
girl next door
'never commited a sin,'
they cooed
'never did a thing wrong.'

She joined soccer, choir, chess
came home holding a freshly marked A+
every day of the week
in her innocent, clean hands
Her mum was her unsung hero
she did what she was told,
and did it gladly.
little Mary helped old ladies across the street
a sure sign of goodness, no?

She always came out to play
with me and my imaginary friend,
Princess Alexandra the 3rd.

Mary-Anne laughed one day.
"Look!" she exclaimed
"My pants are shrinking!"
They were inches above her ankles
and none of them too loose.
her parents laughed with h
Society Has No Say On GayYoung and in love
Over and over
We fall for those we shouldn't
Society thinks they have a say
But our hearts have other plans

Those who don't understand
Try to change us
They think that queer is wrong
That queer is curable

I speak for myself when I say,
I've loved many
But only felt right with a few
And one of them is a woman
And so am I
At least genetically

Gender
Sexuality
They're like water
Fluid

You knock a glass over
The water is displaced
But it is not gone
You can knock us over
We will not disappear

Wrong isn't the word for us
Nor is unnatural
Try something like human
Some cells, tissue
A brain that conta
Fate, Life and Death (title inside deviation)Note: This is 3062 words long, it is spiritual and religiously sensitive. There are no warnings attached to this work except this warning. Read at your own risk.

Dal Destino nacque la necessità della morte e della vita, come La vita è un vocabolo per morte e la morte per la Vita
(Destiny was born from the need of Death and Life, life is a word for death and death for Life)

In shadows of doubt that are encompassing the need without needing a shadow
Much like the screams of demons in free men as they cry
Harking, tempering their inner souls towards a power they are unable to abide by
Much less inject their selves with a need for
*The Forgotten Tomb*
Perpetuity?
Aeons, timeless erosion endured
Occupant long gone.

2013 Delice1941
16th January2013
*Shadow Play*Vampire lies dying where shadows play
Stricken with grief by his side I stay
Starvation played vital part
Now I too die with broken heart.

Promise profound, he would not break
His thirst on me he did not slake
Begged, pleaded would willing give
Anything, everything so he could live.

Now falling tears freely mingle
My body alive with lethal tingle
He slowly dies holding my hand
Soon will depart to deathly land.

Memories invade permanently haunt
love that happened that came to naught
When shadows play over my life
With love remember was vampire wife.

2012 Delice1941
10th November2012
Halloween Fun!Party tonight, zombie fest
All arrived in festive vests
Lumbering walk, face so white
Halloween blast, what a sight.

Zombie manners, at their best
Waiting on their special guest
Count Dracula in scarlet cloak
From deathly sleep has awoke

Entourage of female friends
Calls for drink,  special blend.
Floor is cleared prepare to dance
Music supplied by 'Dead Romance'

Zombie cha cha, swoop and dip
Vampire elegance slightly hip
All beguiled as music plays
Halloween over, separate ways.

2012 Delice1941
15th October2012
Hearth and Home!Gender female, what-a-to-do
Males move over, will work with you
Drive a bus with practiced ease
All aboard, hold on please.

Engineering, masculine feat
Hard hat suits me, very neat
Digging roads, asphalt lay
Clean worn out at end of day.

Flying jets, altitude high
World is mine, even sky
Train driver has certain appeal
Sculpting marble needs arms of steel.

Build bridge or housing estate
Work on farm, harvest won't wait
Not to worry speculation ends
Hearth and home I happily defend.

2012 Delice1941
27th September2012
*March of Time*Time's momentum impartial, wrinkles speak eloquently.

2013 Delice1941
3rd April2013
Why mother?Mother, why is it that the world is like this?
I've spent most of my life asking myself questions that I cannot answer.
Why is that?

Why is it that humans were given the privilege to be the world's primary race?
What about animals and other creatures?
They could have easily reigned over us.

Mother, why do we fight?
Why are we so jealous of what others possess?
Why do we wish everything were ours?

Mother, why do we live?
What is our purpose in life? Why is it that life became all about prosperity and not about reproduction?
Who even said that life was about reproduction?

Mother, why is it that this world has to be so unfair?
Why d
UntitledThere was something of the night, she would say, which had always frightened her.
It wasn't the moonless shadows or the strange prolixity of sounds, but the way the skyline would shatter just beyond the city's crest, as if proving to her childish mind that nothing is truly limitless. Not even the sky.
Ghostly LoveShe sits at his grave,
her tears shower the grass,
his life she could not save,
his soul had to pass.

But a rebel was he,
whom broke through the veil,
and what is he to see,
his miserable wife tired and pale.

He walked toward his wife,
he grew solid as he skipped,
as if he was returning to life,
not realizing what scales he had tipped.

He silently took her hand,
shushing her screams of surprise,
then asked if she would stand,
laughing at the glee in her eyes.

they glided across the graveyard,
dancing with peaceful grace,
letting down their guard,
a moment that no one could erase.

He grew stronger with each glide,
as she w
Misgiven flightI'm not an angel anymore
I am a reject catholic school girl
Lost in forgotten words that are not good enough
To embrace the coat tails of the devil

I sin while drinking water
Devour rivulets of life
Steeping in the lies
Told to children

I am a firefly without a flame
To her, to him, and all the others
I am the wayward puppy that grew out of cuteness
And became a thorn to living

But these scenarios that bare my name are misgiven

Inside
I still bleed as a virgin
Begging to be held by the tears of real angels
Reaching for the moonbeams that could help me find a heaven

I am not a demon's protégé
But rather the heart
RememberedEach act immortalizes us,

           cascading

                    like starburst lightning,

                                           spreading

                                                           like dandelion seeds

                                                                                                     in the         w

                                                                                                                                       i
                                                                                                                                                           
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Man with the Skies 2"it was something that happened around thirty  years back when me and my wife went to one of the  pubs on one of the far off Greek islands; it was summer and we were tired from  walking around the marketplace . It was a relaxed atmosphere, with all the hustle and bustle going about to the indifference of what the weather outside. Some of the people in the pub were tourists who had come  for the first time - thought it would be ab experience of a lifetime, much the same as I thought.
Well, me and she went to the table and sat down smiling  when we looked at each other; first timers and run of the mill, with no clue over what was to be done or what could be done - curious as anything, but definitely wanting to do more; so anyway, I got up from the table and went to the bartender and ordered  something; there  was this old gentleman sitting on the table and looking at the bartender and then at me, chuckling over something. Of course, back then

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Crack in the Eye

:iconshehrozeameen:

A crack in the eye,
did to me never lie,
maybe I did not see,
that it belonged to me.

135

12 8 5
:iconshehrozeameen:

Crack in the Eyeby *shehrozeameen

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A tri-collab, with the genius of *NotenSMSK and the unsettling atmosphere set by ~Cyrisis in what I consider... an experiment.

~Cyrisis is responsible for the cover of this work.

Its simply called Eye ([link])

He owns the copyright to it. And what a work it truly is.

Something which, after compiling this set of quartets with *NotenSMSK was actually an interesting experience.

What it means: This author, however, has a view that the "crack" in the eye... represents the dent on the soul of the person... And with its puncture (hence its "not lying") pushed itself deep... unwittingly, bringing with it the realization that "it belonged to me" (i.e. it was the fault of its protagonist).

In a psychoanalytical perspective, its a Jungian example of "anima-animus" in, interesting retrospectively, a form of singular juxtaposition. Its an oxymoron, bordering towards antagonizing misappropriation.

Questions to the audience (for the critique):

1. Is this quartet... making any sense to you as the reader?

2. What is your perspective on this quartet?

3. Have there been any occasions in your life when you could relate with this quartet?

4. General Comments
Category: Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Concrete Poetry

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October 30, 2012
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:iconnotensmsk:
Critique by ~NotenSMSK Oct 30, 2012, 12:28:50 PM
Now sinc this is my colab with you I don't know what to say. I have always found this particular quartet very deep along with another one of my quartet. It holds a lot of meaning for me and so I shall comment on it like wise.

The crack inthe eye is like the Broken glasses... a dent, as you explained it which converges or diverges the eye sight and shows what is not the truth. The trick lies in the center two lines.

"Did to me never lie.
Maybe I did not see..."

First thing... there should be a fullstop after the first mentioned line. Then... the lines have a meaning as follows... Crack in the eye can be considered from the writers perspective as "sow white's mirror" as in a portal for the messenger, not the messenger itself.

He first thinks that the portal is the reason why lies reach him... why he is unable to see the truth. But then he realizes in this work that it was because he was the mind behind the portal... the one who was giving out lies.

This is my interpretation. For a reader it might be hard to get but this quartet... is yet one of the deepest I have written... with anyone ;)

I won'tbe able to rate this according to a normal reader sadly since I know all the twists and quriks.
What do you think?
Fair Unfair
The Artist thought this was FAIR
3 out of 3 deviants thought this was fair.
3 Replies

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:icongraveful:
*graveful Nov 30, 2012   General Artist
*yes, it did but how i personally interpreted -- the wording could be more clear-cut and have a better flow.
Reply
:iconshehrozeameen:
*shehrozeameen Dec 1, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
We'll keep that in mind when writing a quartet next time.

Just in case, do you have any suggestions? It could help us whenever writing something like this.
Reply
:icongraveful:
*graveful Dec 1, 2012   General Artist
yes --
assume the reader has bad reading comprehension. seriously. and by this i mean make your intention clear and the word order more direct. this is something i forget to do in almost all of my writing, but it's important.

hope this helps. :)
Reply
:iconshehrozeameen:
*shehrozeameen Dec 2, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
:) Definitely did.

I'll keep that in mind when writing. Thank you!

How're things at your end? Read anything interesting lately?
Reply
:icongraveful:
*graveful Dec 2, 2012   General Artist
I don't read as often as I used to, unfortunately, but I'm reading a book called The Crooked God Machine. It's a dystopian horror. It's fantastic.
Reply
:iconshehrozeameen:
*shehrozeameen Dec 2, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
lovely :)

I'm reading "Within a Budding Groove" by Proust. Its amazing... Beyond words...
Reply
:icongraveful:
*graveful Nov 30, 2012   General Artist
1. Is this quartet... making any sense to you as the reader?
yes, it did, but i think the wording could be more clear-cut and have a better flow.

2. What is your perspective on this quartet?
in my interpretation, the piece is strong. i read it as the narrator saw harm where there wasn't and hurt themselves in doing so.

3. Have there been any occasions in your life when you could relate with this quartet?
yes, in a way. i usually have the opposite problem.

4. General Comments
good concept.
Reply
:iconshehrozeameen:
*shehrozeameen Dec 1, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
:) Thank you for putting in the time for this critique.

I'm glad you like it. I also find your interpretation interesting. :)

Hope to hear from you soon :)
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