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Love is a PhoenixI have seen nothing more tragic,
Than watching love die.
Enduring it’s painfully fade,
At stubbornly clings to life

The slow death of a love,
That’s filled with years of life.
Or the sudden snap,
As it blinks away in a lover’s eye.

It doesn’t go easy,
And it doesn’t go fast.
It goes out fighting,
Because love was made to last.

It is a brilliant flame,
Drowned in water.
It clings to the air,
With all its dying embers.

Yes, I have seen no sadder sight,
Than watching love as it dies.
But I have been blessed to gazed upon no otherworldly scene,
Than watching love be born  again, anew and free.
The Devil's WayMake a bargain, sell your soul.
Condemn it to the deepest hole
That ever came of fact or thought.
For such a price ought can be bought.
Just sign right here. This dotted line.
Cut the last ethereal twine
That ties your body and your mind.
Don't you wonder what you'll find?
Be free of all your earthly toil
And later you will surely boil
In tar as deep and thick as night
From which escapes no saving light.
So what's your choice? It's time to choose.
What will you gain? What will you lose?
Sign right here and you can say
"I lived my life the Devil's way".
Ocean's CallRays of the morning Sun tear the veil of mist
Ships slumber by the shores, waiting to be awoken
Ocean whispers while they slumber of her beauty unspoken
The wooden bodies by her waves are longfully kissed
The beacon closed her fiery eye, the Sun laid her to sleep
But the slumber of the ships will soon and slowly break
When the ships have spread their sails, then they'll be awake 
Not because of the chiming bells, but by the Ocean's weep
And the arms of safe lands will not embrace them anymore
When they hearken Ocean's calls and her secrets hidden
One by one, they will leave their safest home - the shore
But perils lurk in dulcet calls of the Ocean so enchanting
Nevertheless, the ships will leave, for freedom is not forbidden
They shall sail forevermore, mesmerized by the eternal chanting
HeartHello, you’re new, shall I show you around?
You will feel at home here, I assure you,
You know this place, it is a sacred ground,
It may look cluttered but there’s room for two.

You will notice that there are just four rooms,
It seems ‘small’, but I choose to use ‘cosy’,
Left is cold, right is warm, by both life blooms,
Your bed is central, should you feel dozy.

You could stay forever, if it’s your will,
And I would like you to stay with me, please?
For now you are here to leave is to kill,
Keep my beating and fleeting heart at ease.
The broken cupThe broken cup does not signify much,
Other than I dropped it
and I ought to clean it up.

It is not an allegory
for my last relationship;
Just a gift from a friend
From which I liked to sip-

And there's coffee on the floor,
In the carpet, down my dress.
Does it have to be a metaphor
For me to be distressed?

Why can't we just drop
A damned cup of damned coffee,
Without it being a brooding realisation
Or a life-epiphany?
My Muse Has Left MeWhen she departs from my grace,
My palette dries in her wake,
Devoid of livelihood for now,
With dull words to fill my tray,
For now I paint a portrait,
With gray,

With no wings of my own,
I am yet to be grown,
For she alone floats me high,
She alone carries the brush;
Strokes colours unto the night,
Filling the empty artist with,
Her sweet kiss of silvery light.

So I lay now in wait,
Under rainbows left gray,
To taste the honey of her life,
Dripping like nectar from rose-soft lips,
Pressed tight as a clamp unto mine,
Breathing into me a laced love letter,
Sighed: To the artist; From: The divine.
Can't believe I couldI can't believe I could fall for you,
but I can't get rid of an impression,
you would understand meanders of my soul,
and take me safely home.

I can't believe I could think of you,
and I can't accept I could like your view,
but when it comes to the truth - I do,
and this complication is incredibly new.

A breakthrough giving rise to an new age,
before I fall offstage.
Drifting among the Spheres...Descending the stairs to the top of the tower,
I stumbled and sank in the sky;
From Venus to Yuggoth I rose like a cork,
Through the æther of Space I now fly...

From the light of Andromeda, crystalline-bright
To the uttermost distant of stars,
I must drift evermore on this eternal flight;
Farewell to Jupiter and Mars!

The Big Bang was merely one drop in the pail
Of Cosmoses unnumbered and vast...
As Infinity drowns in Eternity's depths,
So long will my great journey last.
Hadal OblivionFrom vastest depths of the forgetfulness,
The wail of the banished memories
Resounds, bouncing off invisible walls of nothingness,
And their painful intensity – sonance, greatly varies.
Oh, millions of darkest memories cast out
To oblivion, gently caressing them and yet...
They are starving; on the edge of life; bleeding out.
Although kept alive in emanation of agony, grief and hate.

Many want to banish those shards
of their lives. In the end - banishing themselves.

Stripped of those shards of glass, containing memories,
We are nothing – especially not humans. Without identity,
We may find ourselves lost in the overwhelming wor
Sexual AwakeningMy heart kept pumping
But it drowned in its blood
Waiting for someone
To save it from its flood

Yeah, I did that once
Now my patience is dead
I waited and waited
As my heart just bled

Now my patience is dead!

Now I paint the town red
With that sexy new paintbrush
I just met instead
To rephrase what I said
I paint it in my head
When I picture the masterpiece
We can create in my bed

I’m awaken by perfect chaos
Of tranquil vividness
I believe that this is the outcome
Of my restlessness
In silent chaos I’ll hunt down
The prey of exquisiteness

I’ll lure them in
As I prepare to entrap
Then go for the kill
And begin
Gothic CreativityGoth Creativity is a very dark, amusing thing to have,
But you criticizing, using horrid language, makes my heart halve,
You see, Goth Creativity isn't always death, suicide, or depression,
It's almost always about love, romance, and the use of nonaggression,
But I apologize, we may not be friends, for you are stereotypical,
I already knew that, but ignored, that, of me, is typical,
You're probably contemplating, on what you will do next without me,
I do not care, now without you in my life, my creativity has been set free,
Looks like you are alone, now, and wish to have never done the deed,
So now, you just watch your wrists bleed,
Now look
The measure of the lost memoryAge is but a fraction,
But a story not yet told,
But a sentimental value,
But something we cannot hold.

Age impedes our victories,
Age stands in our way,
The young remain incapable,
And the old will seldom stay.

Age is not a birthday,
Not a frame of time from birth to death,
Not a number that can be ever told,
Not a number told on dying breath.

Age can not be measured,
For none can seem to find,
That age refers to the memory,
Of the thing within your mind.

And whence you forget what your mind holds,
The age is lost as well to the abyss,
And the hourglass drains the last grain of sand,
And the pure void, ensures pure bliss.
Just scaredYour words were scaring me,
What can i say?
Whatever it is, is nothing to stay,
Let me walk for that i shall,
I wont ever even be found.
ArtistWhat skill with your hand you do lightly draw,
connecting lines to form dazzling dreams,
without being able to make a flaw.

Sparks fly in your magic, persistant eyes,
creating a new world in your image,
with confidence that reaches new highs.

Your efforts always seem unrewarded,
the public turning a cold, blind eye,
with nothing to keep your ego fed.

But what dif'rent message is seen in scribes?
Nothing but a meaningless textbook here.
A school's reading has no creative vibes.

A generation that does not read out,
only wants to see words in the pictures,
though there are those who read Poe's works about.

Though literature can on
The Imperfect LineWritten by Josiah Shockency (JCS)

Life is an imperfect line,
We all have ups and downs,
Positives and negatives,
And even smiles and frowns…

It’s a pleasure to be born,
And your life’s a treasure,
But there are stains that won’t budge,
While having all pleasure…

ANGER! DEPRESSION! SADNESS!

Life, what is life anyway?
With all this love and hate,
Mixed together into one,
A huge stain on your plate…

JEALOUSY! STRESS FROM MADNESS!

With bullies in life of school,
Mugs and thugs in cold streets,
With enemies that lurk on,
Seeking for one’s defeats,

FEELING IGNORED! LOSING HOPE!

Bills to pay, mone
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More from *scatteredwords

After RilkeAfter the sun collapses
into the mountains,
dragging down with it the day,
there is the sudden saturation
of dark. Streetlights blink
on, illuminating sidewalks
long abandoned, illuminating
slick twines of ancient ivy that
threaten to overrun even thought.
A few solemn notes of piano echo
and fade. Timid and trembling,
the leaves continue their quiet dance.

And then the wind ceases
suddenly,
the night shudders as if without
breath.  

Cricket-chant ever-louder
beside the wide-eyed unblinking pond,
a song of lament, perhaps, for all the
namelessness, for all the possibilities
between themselves and
some
The Jersey DevilYou have come,
splitting the night,
hunting and always pursued.

You have seen the fireflies,
followed them, escaping in the
dim scarlet glow.

The rhythm in the silence.
The undying moss
the horse's skull
the vertex and the thick heat.

You have not forgiven her,
the Mother's guilty cry,
the one sin for which
she will never find redemption.

Featured in Groups

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1.13.13

:iconscatteredwords:

The phone isn't ringing; they are not even speaking.
She turns on the burners of the stove to keep warm.

Red shoes lay on the floor, a jealous ocean
wraps longingly around her feet.

Three thousand miles from nowhere, children race through puddles.
Their sneakers splash mud on the ends of the earth.

Sunlight crackles, startling the wild-legged colts from their sleep
a tractor splits land like dry lips.

Skin the color of sunrise tangled in the sheets,
fragile words shatter the silence.

Sonic ghosts stick in desperate ears,
death comes in the shape of a song.

82

4 22 1
:iconscatteredwords:

1.13.13by *scatteredwords

DescriptionDetailsShare
Download HTML download, 744 bytes
I'm making a tentative foray into poetic forms. This a first attempt at a modern ghazal. Feedback and constructive critiques would be appreciated.

This will probably change quite a bit, as I know it needs work.
Category: Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

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:icontravelgirlxx:
!travelgirlxx Jan 16, 2013
'a tractor splits land like dry lips' - amazing.
Reply
:iconvespera:
`vespera Jan 14, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
oh this is a lovely form, I just did some reading about it.

I must write one someday for my Coyote.




As far as structure goes - what were you following? I read they were rhyming couplets? Is the "modern" like how haiku don't need to be 5-7-5?
Reply
:iconscatteredwords:
*scatteredwords Jan 14, 2013
Yeah, the book I have says that the traditional form is, "five to twelve rhyming couplets, all using the same rhyme, with the poet putting his name in the final stanza." And that the modern usually forgoes the rhyme and name.

Somewhere else I read that the lines are supposed to read on it's own and be understood. I took some liberty with that.
Reply
:iconvespera:
`vespera Jan 14, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
[link]

I know I've read English versions of these over the year, not realizing they were a form. But I don't know if I've read ones written originally in English...
Reply
:iconscatteredwords:
*scatteredwords Jan 15, 2013
I've been avoiding my book of poetic forms for about a year. I figured it was time to pull it out and start using it, I mean, what better time than alongside Glory Be?

I'm going to leave the page this is written in as-is, and then probably rework it for another day...
Reply
:iconvespera:
`vespera Jan 15, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
I have a couple poems I have multiple versions of, for that reason.
I think I like it more, not rhyming, as rhyming is really hard to do in English and mostly it's been overdone (I think) and this reads like a really lovely translation.
Reply
:iconscatteredwords:
*scatteredwords Jan 15, 2013
Well, one of these nights I'll take a shot at editing and incorporating some of the traditional elements. We'll see how it goes. :D
Reply
:iconvespera:
`vespera Jan 16, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
It'd be interesting to see two versions back to back :D
Reply
:iconfuzzyhoser:
`FuzzyHoser Jan 14, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Ohhh...Liz! Whoa.
I love this:

a tractor splits land like dry lips :heart:
Reply
:iconscatteredwords:
*scatteredwords Jan 14, 2013
:heart:

...but does it work as a ghazal? Critiiiiiiiiiiique meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! :la:
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