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Literature
Of Pomegranates
If only angels looked upon our love,
But how they'd smile, giggling at us,
At this, though common, sighing from above;
Beauty's contained and found in all things just,
Delighting in the pomegranate's seed,
For you alone the meaning's not of lust,
For you, a mistress to your passion's need,
Admitting vulnerability,
Have taken comfort following in my lead.
Through moments of joy and uncertainty,
Euphoria and pain become our worlds,
And we revel or cry in commonality;
At night, unfettered, lie we both unfurled
In nylon, silk, and satin ecstasy,
As the master-mistress in our thoughts we're curled;
If only all life was such fantasy,
We'd still be standing high above the cove,
Instead, with trust our guide, we plunge towards destiny.
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Literature
Journey Through the Unknown
what is this folly so carelessly knighted by
way of a thrusting of swords through the heart's vessels?
washing the hands of attendants in blood from wounds
openly spewing from fountains of youthfulness;
end of a figure transfers to another the
hopelessness cloaking all efforts for change men try
bringing to earth, which has changed but position in
space and in time as it looms from eternal rest;
trapped in expiring forms which in dirt will lie
evermore now and forever consumed by all
worms and all plants which will grow to contented die,
how can a soul ever dream to achieve the moon?
still it will come with all reason and thought denied,
still it believes that the sun will be grasped but soon.
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Literature
Waters
A warm breeze rushes from the sea
Fantastic in its multiple facets
Of grey, red, and blue,
of a dim light from the lighthouse
shining through the palpable fog,
The sun gleams with its last rays
Upon the ever-changing movement of waves
And patterns of tides reaching the ends of the world.
What of these waters?
Be they a peaceful lake
Wide, steady, and serene?
Or perhaps various rivers
Streamed hither and thither
In scattered uniformity?
Are there raging rapids, bright reflections
Evoking the greatest awe?!
None of this! Such matters are simplistic!
The scattered ocean, multi-faceted under the red sunset,
The crescent wanderer, dwelling in the placid seas,
The waterfall in its living state
With a Moonbow shining at midnight's hour;
These are homes, seas for ages to come,
One hope is offered here:
To sink with one's vessel
And float in the passing current.
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Literature
Autumn
It was a weary autumn night,
Fruitless trees were rustling
Complaints of undermined might,
A chill wind was blowing
Under the illuminated sky, lighted
By a place far from sight, close in mind;
"It could almost be daylight,"
She said, for we stood together,
And although we both knew
It was true
Of this lonesome autumn night,
I was silent, she was still;
I spoke, "If daylight it is,
Then let us enjoy it,"
A flash of black, she had turned
Towards me with a smile
Unfolding across her face
As a butterfly its wings;
Another blinding flash, she had turned,
Her face was sullen, as though in mourning,
She was in mourning over something
Incomprehensible,
Many times I had asked her what this
Thing was, she would reply, when she did,
"Voids
       Filled with things that never were,"
So I said to her, as if out of a memory,
  "And never will be,
  But as long as we are,
  What do they matter?"
She smiled wanly
In acknowledgment, but we both knew nothing
Could be done;
So now it was my ch
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Literature
Entry II
In a land of wind and rain with
Skies of fire burning
Fiercely by the morning sun that
Rises to awaken
Souls, inspire minds to parting
From their worldly matters
Into this world's surreal imagery;
Skies of fire with lands
Of smoke and rain that intermingles
To create a misty haze,
Spreading over earthen
Soil, rock, mountain
Glowing in contrast with
The receding shadows,
Confused beams of light radiating
From mountains to the distance
'Tis the birth of  a thought!
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Literature
Entry
   My thoughts are of nothing and everything
   The distinction is irrelevant

Clarity
See the world as it is
An image, nothing more
Let the images blur
Into a single palpable form
Look past the creation
Fade into an abstraction
Enshroud the self in a surreal dream
Enter the mind
A world of wind and rain
With a blanket of sulfurous sands,
Of gusts unimaginable, stirring
      A dense spire of leaves reaching the heavens
Every gust is an offering to the sky
As the sands flit and spark
In the unyielding tornado of the skies
Magnificence
A pillar of fire
A pyre proclaiming the birth of a thought
With a sky of fire and a land blanketed in smoke
As rain gushes forth from an open wound
Within the fire above
Onto the surface charred
Of sulfurous lands baked in the sun
Of smoke settling below the fire
To contradict the sky, but more the laws
      Bounding reality.
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Literature
Reflection of the Storm
    I stand in the still of an unnerving silence,
  A world without motion
  Sitting unconscious
      As stones lasting through time
  Guarding the secret of the past
To deteriorate only when it comes again
  The enchantment of their incomprehensible treasure
       To be released,
   To become again what is
  Apart from the intangible, unknowable void
   Of what was and shall be;
  In the undisturbed silence enclosing,
In a world without motion comes a glimpse
  Into a secondary realm,
   A reflection lasting
But seconds
   Before dissipating
      Under the treads of the inhabitants;
  But in these fleeting sights
   Is shown the still
     Affected by time's solemn progression
Solemn, in a wo
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A picture and nothing more by sharkoftheday A picture and nothing more :iconsharkoftheday:sharkoftheday 0 7
Literature
Mysticism
Wandering streets by light's artifice,
Empty, the mute air broken by testimony in the distance,
The sound of specters, regions encompassed
By illusory thoughts, obstructed
With pillars of powerful mortality
Reaching for divinity's state,
(Within the mind of man)
To fund the drug of existence indefinite.
"Folly"
A voice speaks in slow tones, each letter a distinction,
The sound is lost but rings within, as a profound truth
It echoes to immeasurable depths in knowledge's abyss,
A ripple disturbing the amniotic fluid of the lake's womb,
Daring to affect all regions, to reach
Under the gloom of an overlying fog.
"How deep was the shore unsettled?"
Drowning from this wayward journey,
A will departing from this worldly abode
Unaffected: Actions Constant; Lives Unchanged;
Distant memories of an era
Unbound, of recurrence
Subjective in contemplation,
Unvaried in presence.
A breeze perpetually intermittent
Stirs mute forms with half-truths,
Appeals to the half of the form wandering in dreams;
O
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Literature
The Hunter
The apparitional form with shadows cloaked
About as a thief voraciously stalking prey,
A wolf that roams the forest's furrows sulking,
Disturbing the pleasant dreams of sleeping fae;
A madness gleams from light between the brush
In wild eyes, reflects this demon's hull,
A shade, it stalks the victim beneath the hush
That fell upon the tenebrous earth, a minstrel
Proclaiming the deeds of dead and fallen souls
With quiet brooding, breathing life to fear,
The cursed fog to spread through streets, enclosing
The innocent without defense, to sear;
       A hunter closes in, it strikes in rage;
       Tonight there dies, a sacrifice, the image.
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Literature
The Invaluableness Of A Fool
How does one value a fool?
Their measure of worth is not quite understood;
Irreplaceable on the world which they pace,
After all, only once will shine such a face;
Their importance cannot begin to be fathomed,
Such lofty purpose that it's lost even to its own;
So, before shouting another to be of such rot,
Consider first what a treat it must be in the lot!
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Literature
Doppelganger
.            Shadows trod upon ground obscure
              Steady paces placed on uncertainty
                   Chance and fate a guiding force
                For the shadows lost in this forest
                                     Existing in days of sleep
                                  And nights of wakefulness
         They hide when exposed, being left unseen
                    But then in the hour of their element
     Feel vulnerable in body when their soul is free
                        To come alive and adjoined
                   To oneself; No longer to mimic
                    The object of longing and fear;
                            Instead, in light they walk
                                          In restless sleep
    Denying the self hidden behind every step
                                             Yet forever   
             These shadows mimic this doppelgänger,
             Living falsely under a romantic's comfort
  And when revelation's deceptive e
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False? by sharkoftheday
Mature content
False? :iconsharkoftheday:sharkoftheday 4 17
Mature content
Untitled Love :iconsharkoftheday:sharkoftheday 1 14
Literature
Fade
sitting by the window
legs crossed
with a face
resting  ...  lightly
in a supportive hand,
listening
to repetition:
calm
pattering
patterns
falling
softly
sequentially
subtly —
escape,
blur
and dissolve
into the surroundings,
lost to others
found by the world,
never to be seen
except by those
who look
and find;
fade
      a
    w
  a
y
A poet looks on the ground to find his Muse waiting for him.
He is suddenly taken captive, enthralled in the beauty in which she steps.
She lifts her hand slowly, motioning him to come.
He follows readily, as if the steps are not his own and the movements are in response; he is still.
He is detached from reality and walks into a dream of lands mystical in wonder.
His figure fades into the earth surrounding as he walks through an ethereal dream.
The Poet dissipates in the tangible surroundings;
They become one.

The world is suspended in time, it is motionless
 Except for a random, surreal fall,
  Systematically proceeding.
Reality dissolves into a
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Literature
Path of Ghosts
On a path few travel intently
Steps a figure in this evening's morn,
Feet fall softly and caress gently
The forsaken ground
     Where venture the forlorn
Where souls are lost and found,
Away from the golden boughs,
Beyond the woods where laughter is abounding
From faeries and nymphs resounding
Within the living forest;
Beyond, in the land of passage,
Where the light turns a different shade,
Where the laughter never echoes,
And the moods become passive;
Here is found a lone shadow.
She treads lightly with each step carefully planned,
Taking her stand between the gray and shadow,
Every movement shown beforehand
By her significant other,
And, in this profane journey, her only friend.
Fade out from this world's meadow,
It will not matter anymore;
She will merely join the rest
Walking anxiously through this door,
For she had long ago realized she was just another shadow
Mimicking every move of her doppelgänger,
However flat it meant everything to her,
Though obscur
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Random Favourites

Literature
On The Beach
He holds his hand out to me
Amidst the winds of animosity
I am eager to run to him,
I do so long to be free.
The water looks so inviting
But I've been here before
I do not give in so easily
Sometimes life is so frightening.
"Come to me" he begs with his eyes
Moving a little closer, still unsure
I do not trust myself to make a choice.
"Trust in me" he says as he cries.
Inching closer to him I fall into his arms
His eyes dance across my skin
Warmth encases me even on this cold shore
I am not at ease, but I am in love with his charms.
Bending down he seals my fate with a kiss.
All is said and done now, I am his.
Together we walk, along the shores of my heart.
In my mind's eye the past falls away, he is my bliss.
Hand in hand we walk into the sky
Together forever, we never die.
:iconTheFlawedOne:TheFlawedOne
:icontheflawedone:TheFlawedOne 3 13
The Time of Carousels by blushingsilly07 The Time of Carousels :iconblushingsilly07:blushingsilly07 1 24 Time by blushingsilly07 Time :iconblushingsilly07:blushingsilly07 4 25 Summoning the Serpent by azhrarn Summoning the Serpent :iconazhrarn:azhrarn 6,850 1,121
Literature
Hidden Identity
I hide in the shadows, watching, lurking
As silent figures glide before my path
You may wonder why do I hide?
Why don't I surface before the crowds?
Could it be that I'm scared of rejection,
that I wont be accepted for who I am?
Could it be that I'm confused,
not knowing who I am, what I am,
where I belong.
So I wait in the shadows taking notes on the pitiful souls around me
As they act out a scene from an unrehearsed play
Do any of them really understand the true parts they play?
Do any of them see beyond the shallow exterior of their fellow characters
They glide unaware of the being that watches
As I long to fit in, but not knowing where I stand.  
:iconPhoenix-Rising:Phoenix-Rising
:iconphoenix-rising:Phoenix-Rising 4 5
The Jester's Bad Joke by LostBlueDreams The Jester's Bad Joke :iconlostbluedreams:LostBlueDreams 18 34
Literature
How do I?
How do I put into words
the feelings I feel
when you are near me
and I am wrapped in your arms?
How do I describe to you
the longing I feel
when you are not close
and I crave to hear your voice?
How do I express to you
the quick rush I feel
when you kiss me soft
and all I can see is you?
How do I explain to you
the comfort I feel
when my day is bad
and I know you truely care
How do I honestly show you
the extent I'd go
to make you happy
and make your day worth wild?
How do I put into words
the feelings I feel?
My heart is forever yours
for I believe I love you.  
   
:iconpeppermint981:peppermint981
:iconpeppermint981:peppermint981 1 3
Literature
Storm Within
A wirlwind of emotion,
tears cleansing the pain.
Trapped in a ragging storm,
that I cannot escape.
No sanctuary left,
to sheild the bleeding heart.
I feel lost in this darkness,
completly blinded by rain.
Where can one go,
to hide from this wind?
When all of this storm,
comes from within?
:iconpeppermint981:peppermint981
:iconpeppermint981:peppermint981 3 19
Literature
Silent Nights
Silent nights we wander
Wondering when to live
And forget the endless squander
Nothing can save us now
For we are the damned
To deaths bitter kiss, we bow
We can no longer reach the light
Our once fair, frail hands are tied
For we have forgotten the white
Never give up they say
"You can still open your eyes"
But you see our eyes are blind
We live in eternal night
Heart, heart
What is heart?
We no longer have heart
They took it away, and ripped it apart
Hate us now
For we are ugly and frail
You look at us and flinch
We look at you and see hate
No body can see
The soul within
The fading light
We were once so pure
But now we are evil within
Please, give us mercy
Save us, help us
But no
You just ignore us
As if we were waste beneath your feet
Give us peace at least
Leave us alone
But no,
You still linger here
In our minds
Driving us to the edge
It's making us mad
We have only one choice left now
The blade
So sharp and so soft
Touch our silky skin darling
Free us from this pain
Oh, bring on
:iconLostBlueDreams:LostBlueDreams
:iconlostbluedreams:LostBlueDreams 5 21

Activity


I tried coming back at the wrong time. I basically came back and saw jark was no longer an admin. I read of what was going on (I am a jark watcher so I read his "conspiracy theories" which he wrote after his removal). I found Jark's sentiments to be echoed by many others concerned with the state of DA (some of whom were conveniently removed). I left as soon as I came. Basically I think I now have the energy to leave DA be. Whether it was this bad beforehand (before jark was fired) I'm not sure, but I have seen how things have fallen apart since. Goodbye.
-Laura-

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sharkoftheday
Erica Olliges
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States

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:iconsharkoftheday:
sharkoftheday Featured By Owner Oct 10, 2004  Hobbyist Writer
I'm not sure...I'm not even sure why I'm here right now.

Have you ever tired of receiving endless praise and not one line of criticism?
Reply
:iconaxterxes:
Axterxes Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2004
I feel very little commenting in general on my own work, but it's enough; Praise can be tiring, yes...almost like being in the heat of the summer all year long, and never getting the satisfaction of a passing car spraying you with a puddle of muddy water in the winter and having to feel cold and rained in.
I suppose it's because the truth about people comes out when they are most lonely, even in the midst of a crowd of lovers. I feel lonely when I don't have an active OTHER talking and breaking up my creative side, I lose momentum, my ego-if there is one- turns to mush...but all in good time, you'll lose the skin and shine in a new one.

I'll tell you one thing, I've never seen a real reason to criticize anything, because it is hopelessly unreal to try and comitt order to creation, creation has no perfection or order,thus no criticism is REAL to me, it has no weight for what I do, it changes nothing of my productions except my ego-if there is one, again- which is affected..

i could criticize you for not being here more often. it makes you blend into the background when you do that, not good.
Reply
:iconsharkoftheday:
sharkoftheday Featured By Owner Oct 15, 2004  Hobbyist Writer
'Tis true creation has no order, but all our life is perspective; the past, future, and present are maintained as not existing except in our minds (thus, as i argue, we exist in the state that we exist). Because everything is viewed subjectively and, consequently, with bias, insight or even criticism provide the side from a person detached from the work. It has nearly the same effect as coming back 6 months to a year later and reading the poem again, the view is more detached so, even though it is subjective, the bias of attachment is reduced and perhaps even replaced with the bias of further experience, although that is not necessarily a good thing.

nothing is real to me. at times it is hard enough to convince myself that i exist; others that this world exists. it is nearly impossible to believe that this grew out of simple-minded beings who discovered fire to bring warmth. The first man was lucky. If it was possible for this person to have lofty thoughts, which without as formal a system of language is inconceivable as to how, it would have been much easier for this person to believe that everything existed. Maybe not that she/he existed, but that the world around them existed, because they had to battle it with much less defenses as we have built today. (Yet the notion stays the same, seek shelter in a rain storm because its cold out!)

Anyway, I have not been here because for once everything didn't seem to matter here. When a shadow is faced with reality and the passage of time, it perceives its own existence. Going back to school, I had to exit out of one dream to eventually enter another (it doesn't feel like a dream yet), but in the time before this new state of sleep is acheived, when the shadow is a figure with dimension and aware of its surroundings, all things that are but faceless shades become unimportant and remind the figure that it is just another shadow lost in the night.

By being in others' conscious awareness here, i sacrifice being conscious of my own life and take time away from things that are already stretched and strained.

Yes, being in a crowd of lovers (friendships included) just makes me feel more lonely and, bearing no other being to speak with, i turn in word and thought to my dearest, beloved f(r)iend who has always been at my side...Death. Of course, it is demonic at the moment that it plagues one's thoughts and authoritative when it demands respect, but otherwise pleasant company and a worthy muse.

...Speaking of muses (I've missed rambling in case you have not noticed by now) it's disturbing to think that as much as i despise western religion, if i were not raised as a church-going catholic then i would lose probably a third of my inspiration (by way that my dislike and part misconception, part perception of hypocrisy, especially of the light, was also related to religion).
Lastly, Moneer, i doubt you know this, but nearly every word you have written has had an effect on me upon coming back to look at them more detached from present conceptions. With that fog lifted or perhaps with the opportunity to reflect consciously and subconsciously, the meaning of the words becomes clearer and...i'm not sure. The proverb, those who worship fire but are afraid to be burned are like the pilgrim lost in the woods. It shows that we can never truly know ourselves, because there is always something that we cannot stand up towards. I realized how much i had lost my sense of self and have since attempted to find it again.
Reply
:iconlillycalin:
lillycalin Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2004
good for you for knowing so much about yourself and being open about it so young :)
Reply
:iconlivingpoetsociety:
livingpoetsociety Featured By Owner Sep 1, 2004   Writer
Reply
:iconshadowofwhoiam2b:
ShadowOfWhoIAm2b Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2004
Hi! I'm from ~WeCritique.
I've read Phantasm, Clay-Molded World, and Hope of the Damned and I've skimmed Winter Nymph, Without Title and Desecration.
In my opinion, you're greatest strength is your diveristy. You are very talented in many different forms and styles. Overall, your poetry is wonderful, and can appeal to any sort of reader. You're very talented. Keep up the amazing work.
Reply
:icondarkcrescendo:
darkcrescendo Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2004  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the watch.

I hope you enjoy yourself!

Benedictions
Reply
:iconstupidgit:
StupidGit Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2004
:peace: Hello Neighbor! You're the closest to me on all of dA! :hug:
Reply
:iconsharkoftheday:
sharkoftheday Featured By Owner Jul 18, 2004  Hobbyist Writer
On what street are you located?
Reply
:iconstupidgit:
StupidGit Featured By Owner Jul 18, 2004
LaCosta Ct... it's offa Stoney Brook Dr?

You?
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