I once heard the phrase that
silence is silver.
silver as the sacred seas crests.
Why does silence make a precious metal
or a magnificent raging wave
that awes as it slides to the shore.
Silver is the silence
that hushes the crying babe
as his mother cradles him
on the crook of her arm
and his small, warm body
nuzzles against hers.
Silver is the silence
that longing lovers leave
as they lose themselves in each others
silvery slivers of simmering love.
The heat of their affection
forging a fiery gem of beauty
Silver is the silence
that honors the dead.
As the mourners mourn
and bow their brows
in respect and recognition
Memories are fragile things
Delicate and soft, easy to break
One wouldnt expect a memory
To come from these dusty gloves
The thought of searing days
Of rough roads traveled by the trucks
Of the Escher-like pattern upon
These rigid, old, dusty gloves
They traveled over the rocks
The smooth rocks that burned so brightly
With the heat of the working days
They traveled, these dusty gloves
The grainy remains are there
They stay and remind me of my past
Of the bright days and dark nights
And of the work these dusty gloves did
Thief: 1
-He felt it consume him, and his legs were going numb-
Darkness
Most people fear it, irrational or not, due to the fear of the unknown.
Darkness is the cloak that keeps the demons safe, one could say, as without it, there is always a clear view of what is in front of you, and all the imaginary things that plague our thoughts will vanish.
In that sense, the Dark isnt an evil, morbid creature, but rather a Motherly figure, providing a hiding place for those in need. So there is nothing to fear of the dark, the only thing to fear is the demons that dont choose to hide there.
Thats what went through his mind, as h
When I look to Christmas, I see gifts
When I listen, I hear bells and joy
When I smell, I smell only the sweetest
The multicolored, pungent delicacy
An eye-burning sensation of pleasure from peppermint
Something I will not forget.
The sweet and sour treat brings
Only sweet memories
Of mornings filled with shouts of excitement
Ripping and tearing and shredding of paper
And the jingle bells too, controls the noise
Yet the smell pervades the room
Almost as if hidden behind the tree
Resting atop the largest gift of all
Shouting come, bask in a moment of childish glee!
And Id not be surprised
If my parents had don
A simple walk in the fields
Its relaxing, soothing
Clears the mind of stress
I take a lazy glance at my side
Benches adorn the walls, made of metal.
Some new, some old
Some Scratched, some clean
Yet its perfectly normal
Id hardly expect them to be shiny and new forever
A simple walk in the fields and
They all become used
A simple walk in the fields
And you can see the brown weeds
They branch around the benches
The long, wild weeds
They consume the used Benches
Made of metal, made of grass
Some content, some hungering
Eating the benches whole
Consuming till nothing is left in sight
A simple walk in the fie
Taste Poem
They say you dont know what you have till its gone
Ive proved them wrong
The smooth, silky texture
And the alluring aftertaste of the first strong
Crunch
I appreciate my treat, As
A painter would his painting, the long, careful
Strokes along the blank canvas soon to be masterpiece
The sheer rush of savory pleasure assures me
Of the delicious friend Ive made, and hooks me
As a fish to the fisher, chancing his life for another bite
Im given another chance to worship the newfound temple
And I take it eagerly, gnawing on the morsel as my taste buds
Assault me with the blinding lights of reali
I once heard the phrase that
silence is silver.
silver as the sacred seas crests.
Why does silence make a precious metal
or a magnificent raging wave
that awes as it slides to the shore.
Silver is the silence
that hushes the crying babe
as his mother cradles him
on the crook of her arm
and his small, warm body
nuzzles against hers.
Silver is the silence
that longing lovers leave
as they lose themselves in each others
silvery slivers of simmering love.
The heat of their affection
forging a fiery gem of beauty
Silver is the silence
that honors the dead.
As the mourners mourn
and bow their brows
in respect and recognition
Memories are fragile things
Delicate and soft, easy to break
One wouldnt expect a memory
To come from these dusty gloves
The thought of searing days
Of rough roads traveled by the trucks
Of the Escher-like pattern upon
These rigid, old, dusty gloves
They traveled over the rocks
The smooth rocks that burned so brightly
With the heat of the working days
They traveled, these dusty gloves
The grainy remains are there
They stay and remind me of my past
Of the bright days and dark nights
And of the work these dusty gloves did
Thief: 1
-He felt it consume him, and his legs were going numb-
Darkness
Most people fear it, irrational or not, due to the fear of the unknown.
Darkness is the cloak that keeps the demons safe, one could say, as without it, there is always a clear view of what is in front of you, and all the imaginary things that plague our thoughts will vanish.
In that sense, the Dark isnt an evil, morbid creature, but rather a Motherly figure, providing a hiding place for those in need. So there is nothing to fear of the dark, the only thing to fear is the demons that dont choose to hide there.
Thats what went through his mind, as h
When I look to Christmas, I see gifts
When I listen, I hear bells and joy
When I smell, I smell only the sweetest
The multicolored, pungent delicacy
An eye-burning sensation of pleasure from peppermint
Something I will not forget.
The sweet and sour treat brings
Only sweet memories
Of mornings filled with shouts of excitement
Ripping and tearing and shredding of paper
And the jingle bells too, controls the noise
Yet the smell pervades the room
Almost as if hidden behind the tree
Resting atop the largest gift of all
Shouting come, bask in a moment of childish glee!
And Id not be surprised
If my parents had don
A simple walk in the fields
Its relaxing, soothing
Clears the mind of stress
I take a lazy glance at my side
Benches adorn the walls, made of metal.
Some new, some old
Some Scratched, some clean
Yet its perfectly normal
Id hardly expect them to be shiny and new forever
A simple walk in the fields and
They all become used
A simple walk in the fields
And you can see the brown weeds
They branch around the benches
The long, wild weeds
They consume the used Benches
Made of metal, made of grass
Some content, some hungering
Eating the benches whole
Consuming till nothing is left in sight
A simple walk in the fie
Decided to start fresh since My Comics are pretty much finished up, I thought to focus on writing a bit more.
So, New profile!
http://rheyurin.deviantart.com/
I might just switch Epic and Cotos into written stories, once I polish up a bit more...Creative writing classes have my brain in crappy poetry mode still.
Eat it of course!
Updates first off: I got my computer fixed, in a sense of the word...I replaced the hardrive.
That means that my sprites are gone, However I should have them backed up on a website for computer protection, so I'll have to check those before I declare my sprites legally dead and in need of re-animating.
Moving along, I saw Avenue Q a week or two ago. It was good.
And I'm gonna do a quiz now because I'm bored and Animash tagged me. Because she's a meanie face. And if you wanna take it go to hers, I'mma make comments!
AA T
Rules:
1.Tag 10 people (not the one who sent it to you)
2.Answer all truthfully
3.Take in public
Well...This will just be crushing to my total of 1 Viewer(s)!
But My computer has attracted a Virus, and I forgot to backup my sprites again -.-;; So it's very likely that My comics will take a LONG hiatus or even stop. I'll continue to post writings and other things I can when I have the chance but Until then, Let's just pray