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A RevolutionThe revolutionaries' voices could be heard from her window
She looked at her reflection in the window
As rain dripped down the pane
Death had already touched her
She, made into a white spectre
Still she looked into her reflection
Trying to find beauty
Along her whitened cheeks
She touched her thin lips with her hand
Her crimson lips leading to the soft creases
To her veins where yet more blood flowed
She blinked a moment, and in the reflection
A droplet rolled from her eye to cheek
Whether it was a tear or a chanced raindrop
We may not know
They came bursting through the door
And like the splintering door
A reign came to its end
Revolutionaries cried for a head to roll
But first she was violated
They marched her through the square
Where each cobble might have been a headstone
For all the deposed scepters
They stripped her and struck her face
Blood trickled from her virgin lips But they withheld not even that
And so thereafter they took her tongue
Which they claimed evil enchantment to
The HorizonDearest Kit,
My L'aura, my L'aura has called me to dream of her still. When I closed my eyes, I was on a sandy beach where my forlorn heart lay with longing for you. My eyes still shut, I must have wished hard enough, for my salty air became sweeter. Though fallen, I could feel your gentle hands brushing a briny spray before coming to meet my lips in a bittersweet kiss. My L'aura, you are the very air I breathe, but as you rushed away my eyes, though closed, offered a sacrament of tears that mingled with my body into the deep. To feel you leave was to feel the heart leave also, for mine goes with you wherever that may be. But somewhere deep in my soul, I still wished to see you again though you are of the air, and I the ocean depths... both bound to our own worlds. But have you not heard as I have? There is a place if you go far enough to the East where the water and air meet. That is where I'll finally be with my L'aura again forever in endless love.
Ice for a PalaceI am the king of this place of ice so cold. I am the master of this night without a star. Here I'll spend my days within the labyrinth of crystalline ice. No one may enter--no one may escape, so I'll sit in cold contempt of the world and stare straight back into the resolved eyes cast from the ice mirrors surrounding me. I will keep Tartarus company on this cold, unforgiving throne. I may have loved once, but those are sinister shores which were stocked with usurpers and sirens. And all those now lay desolate under a tombstone of frost, forgotten under the depths of a frozen sea. I walked out onto the pallor ice and built my walls of malice and unfeeling ice. And so from here, I'll watch the contemptible world fight amongst itself and rot away as I await their fates in this castle of ice.
Of Angel WingsDear Kitten,
Two years, two years is night upon us. For almost two years I have been able to enjoy your warm smile. For almost two years I have been able to slip my fingers into yours. You and I have been writing a story, chapter by chapter. And still I dream of more. Is it too much to ask that we continue our story? But for now I'll tell another.
Frost's fingers trace the windows of the house, but he dares not enter because he is one to observe. Inside, there is a boy who has just clad himself in a winter frock. The boy clad in his winter frock trudged through the snow to the old school building. Inside, he faced a girl who stood at the chalkboard and was busy drawing a huge pair of wings on the board. He called to her... "Hello!" She turned and looked at him with an eager, inquisitive face. He said, "Hey, don't you know? You're not supposed to--" He stopped mid sentence and mid step, "Are those angel wings?" The girl timidly said, "Yes." The boy again repl
The Waltz Within/A Decision Made The fencer squared off with his opponent in the bounds of the simplistic ring. Inside, he burned with a passion with which he complemented with his imagination of music. This match meant more than a victory; it would mean his life or death. So these two engaged in a dance of blade and turns, but our protagonist married his image of music's classics and its embodiment in deadly footwork. The fight might not have lasted more than a few minutes, but these precious few minutes were a perilous battle to lead a treacherous waltz. Lunge, parry, retreat, and lunge again, the sight was fatality clothed in the guise of a glorious party masquerader. At once there was an opening for a new song, a change of pace. In this crucial moment, as our protagonist imagined a learned musician dragging bow across strings, so did he draw his sabre across his opponent's chest. A few beads became a stream, and there was a crescendo in Bach's Fifth Cello Suite. His opponent fell in a flurry left onl
Dash in the RainDear Kit,
Lying in bed with my eyes closed and listening to the pitter-patter of the rain and the gentle rolls of distant thunder makes me think of the other night. It was bitterly cold in the wind and rain as we rushed from cover to cover under a wimpy umbrella. The rain was not so kind then, and the wind even harsher, tearing my poor umbrella from its metal skeleton. I recall you clinging to me as the elements threatened to toss us around, but one thing stuck out. You were warm. So though we are separated by many miles at the moment, I still remember. I'm still warm now.
Allegretto piu Grave
Playing for Ghosts Amidst the forest, there stands a lonely cottage where naught but the wind whistles, no merry songs from a flute, no hum from another soul. Aye, it is nothing but a small flame in a forest, but this void is my home. The wind whistles again but this time it is with the melancholy strings of a piano. The song remembers a time when things were nothing like this. It remembers a time when the streets were filled with little paper lanterns during the autumn festival. It remembers a time of parades and shouting vendors calling to the young ones to purchase delectable, tooth-rotting treats of honey. It remembers the young men cat-calling the fairest maidens who donned the dresses that were just delivered from some place in the Far East. But heaven grew weary of our prosperity. It grew tired of the land flowing with milk and honey, and so Death entered into our courts as a silent party guest, uninvited and dressed in ugly, sable robes. So men, women, and children were not spared t
A Field of Bluebells The year is irrelevant, but if you really wanted to know it is the third year of bloodshed in a war that seemed to engulf the entirety of the known world. Each day I must revisit the hellish scene, so different in appearance until explosions and gunfire render them into quite the same rubble. I so want to leave the gates of Hades, but if I turn tail I will be branded a traitor and shot in the back.
Today, I will lay down my sword, and I shall fight no more. My platoon and I were clearing a German town of heavy resistance. After having taken most of the town, I saw one of my brothers in arms go down after taking a shot from a sharpshooter at the end of the village. I fired two rounds after him to see him fall in a field of bluebells. I went to inspect my work and found the fighter to be a boy no more than fourteen years of age. I knelt in that field of bloody bluebells and cradled his crimson stained head though life had left a vacant stare in his eyes, and I
An Unfinished PaintingDear Kit,
Though it's been some time since I've seen you, I haven't missed a night without a dream of you. No, each night has not left me devoid of imagination and fantasy of times with your or just pictures of you. The most recent was of you sitting in your humble home in the den with your laptop upon your slender thighs. There you sat with a puzzled look on your face that asked the question, "Well, how should it look then?" Puzzled but still beautiful, your face twisted into a myriad of expressions as your fingers glided over key and mousepad. And though your toiling left your face more tired, you remained beautiful yet. So you worked through a good portion of the night, but there was still such a puzzled look on your face that maybe I'd dream of something unfinished, something that would stay unfinished. And so giving up for the night as I silently bid you, you put the laptop aside, pulled your knees to your chest, lay your furrow-browed head on your shoulder, and brought your cat t
Dear Kit, I fell in love witDear Kit,
I fell in love with you, so I pray you don't leave my side. I say this because you are not with me now, and I miss you. I miss the sincere gaze I see when your eyes and mine meet. I miss the way you toss your hair as you turned in my direction. I miss imagining a hidden smile as you walked ahead of me towards the ice cream shops. I miss the carefree laughs of summer and the warm hugs of winter. A busy life has stolen you away from my loving embrace.
But for now I will keep dreaming. I dreamt of chasing you through a frozen forest after a heated snowball fight in the yard. As you ran away from me, I gave chase, but mid-run I tripped and fell into a frigid snow drift. You'd laugh at my expense, but amidst your laughter, snow from a branch came falling down on yiu. For a moment of disbelief the two of us just sat then broke into simultaneous chuckles at our blunders. But oh the fun at the cost of a face full of snow. That's only one of many a fantasy as I lie i
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More