ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Uninspired witticism,
A faux-insouciant attitude;
Blatant act of plagiarism.
Disrespectful euphemism;
Some pietistic gratitude,
Uninspired witticism.
Questionable symbolism:
Interpretative latitude.
Blatant act of plagiarism.
Heavy-handed criticism.
Ironic lack of aptitude,
Uninspired witticism.
Well-intentioned pessimism;
Clichéd, generic platitude.
Blatant act of plagiarism—
Irritating mannerism,
Oblivious beatitude;
Uninspired witticism...
Blatant act of plagiarism.
A faux-insouciant attitude;
Blatant act of plagiarism.
Disrespectful euphemism;
Some pietistic gratitude,
Uninspired witticism.
Questionable symbolism:
Interpretative latitude.
Blatant act of plagiarism.
Heavy-handed criticism.
Ironic lack of aptitude,
Uninspired witticism.
Well-intentioned pessimism;
Clichéd, generic platitude.
Blatant act of plagiarism—
Irritating mannerism,
Oblivious beatitude;
Uninspired witticism...
Blatant act of plagiarism.
Literature
mellow satire poetry
Beautiful contemporary muse,
in denim and plaid clad hips you'll infuse
my only positive trait,
artistic bipolarity
Your cheeky smile, joking lips
speak mellow satire poetry
longing to taste your prose,
as of yet undiscovered.
Pretty girl, in blindness
you'll find clarity in me,
or vice versa.
Bleed gold words in silver verse
endearing, your modest insecurities
behind wooden eyes seeing
straight through me.
Literature
Rosebush
If I were to tell you,
"Life is not a bed of roses."
Would you still continue
To pull the weeds from beneath the rows?
If I said,
"There are some wounds that cannot heal."
Would you still reach between the brambles
And allow the thorns to pierce your skin?
Were I to mention,
"Even the brightest of flowers
Will eventually succumb to time."
Would you still cut the heads
In preparation for the new spring buds?
You simply smile and say;
"Yes.
For even the most vapid vine deserves to be cultivated.
Only then can it bloom
And truly enjoy its time in the sun."
Literature
Hate
I hate
I hate well
I hate feverishly
I am the churning acid in your stomach
I am the blood pounding in your head
I am the white-knuckled fist clenching to strike
I am the red haze dimming your eyes
and clouding your mind
I am the rage that lashes out at the weak
the small and defenseless
justified by tears and fueled by alcohol
I hate passionately
I am the shaking in your hands
and grinding teeth
nails digging into your palms
I am everything you hate
boiling to the surface in a froth of
bile
blood
and excrement
I am the indiscriminate spray of bullets
at the school
church
nightclub
I am the madman raving on the news
heaping blame
Suggested Collections
I spent much of yesterday working my first-ever villanelle, for this week's #fotoFRIDAY challenge. This . . . wasn't it. 
But it just might answer that age-old question: just how generic is it possible for poetry to get?
Note to the purists in the audience: Yes, the rhythm is trochaic, iambic, trochaic. I did that on purpose, just to annoy you. Yeah, you.
Oh, and here's the actual villanelle.
But it just might answer that age-old question: just how generic is it possible for poetry to get?Note to the purists in the audience: Yes, the rhythm is trochaic, iambic, trochaic. I did that on purpose, just to annoy you. Yeah, you.
Oh, and here's the actual villanelle.
Her Side of the Story You've loved me like a sister, like a friend.
That this could change had never made me pause—
but that relationship has reached its end.
It's only now that I can comprehend
how well your virtues complement my flaws;
you've loved me like a sister, like a friend.
You asked to meet me here. Should I pretend
indifference, or pursue my hopeless cause?
But that relationship has reached its end.
I meet your eyes: whatever you intend
I will accept. I trust in you, because
you've loved me like a sister, like a friend.
We separate; it's our last chance to mend
the status quo. I know we're grasping straws,
but: that relationship has r
© 2007 - 2024 HaveTales-WillTell
Comments28
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Your attempt at annoyance succeeded. Grr. Trochaic, iambic, trochaic...grr...
I like this, especially the last line. It really punches your point without making the poem oxymoronic. Very nice.
I like this, especially the last line. It really punches your point without making the poem oxymoronic. Very nice.