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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

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?

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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

A Pretty Little Box For YouI ~hehe~ have a little box
I think it's about the right height
To fit little you inside
And shut you in there tight
So when you feel you're ready
I'll be waiting ~hehe~ in my place
To make you a box so pretty
I'll make it frame your little face
It would be so fun to measure you
But little one do not fear ~hehe~
What a sad thing it would be
Should laughter disappear
~Hehe~ I will tell you anything
There's many things that I know
All I ask in return ~hehehehe~
Is to make me laugh, you know
It's the greatest gift, it is
In the whole entire world
Laughter's the best medicine
I am ~hehe~ sure you've heard
But when your laughter decides to cease
I have this box for you
And ~hehe~ If you really want
I'll ~hehehehe~ make you two
i can't imagine this world
Without smiles, laughter, cheer
What a sad thing it would be ~hehe~
Should laughter disappear....
~Hehehehehehehe~

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More from ~A--Anthony

Dreams Borne WithinDreams born within us are the dreams
We cannot bear to live without.
Shunning fear of judgment redeems
Dreams born within us; are the dreams
Inside us strong enough? It seems,
Cruel as it may be, there’s no doubt
Dreams born within us are the dreams
We cannot bear to live without.

No Man's LandNo man’s land am I,
Stretching beyond the horizon,
Ever enticing the eyes on
Past what can be seen.

No man’s land am I,
Free, unbridled and unbroken,
Full of words yet to be spoken;
Verdant, lush and clean.

No man’s land am I,
Reaching out to heaven above,
But now only a shadow of
What I might have been.

No man’s land am I,
Sodden, soaked, and dripping with blood,
Scarlet dried to the brown of mud;
Gravely still, serene.

No man’s land am I,
A loving bosom become tomb,
Swallowing all in a dark womb
With a hollow keen.

No man’s land am I
Once sublime paradise of myth,
Now riven by violence, with
No man&r

Ill WindFever
Wrought by cold drafts
Burns behind my eyeballs,
But chilled ague under my skin
Seeks flame.

Pound HoundI ain't done no crime but my tail's still in jail.
Don't wanna do time but my tail's still in jail.
Can't do nothin' but cock my head and wail.

I can't jump the gate and I can't pick the lock.
Tried to bump that gate but I can't lick the lock.
No way out between a hard place and rock.

I can bark a bit but I ain't got no bite.
I may bark a bit but I don't never bite.
Y'all ain't gotta be scared of me tonight.

I'll take a leash if it gets me outta here.
Don't mind a leash if it gets me outta here.
If I get out I don't mind stayin' near.

Ain't nobody gonna bail my sorry hide?
It don't take too much to bail my sorry hide.
Bail me ou

Ballade of a Fallen KnightNoble lord, hear thy knight,
Attend his final say;
Save thy realm from the blight
Of war and its dismay.
Against thy subjects stay
Thy fury from on high;
They for their country pray
As do I, as do I.

For if in royal spite
Thou dost fail to repay
Their loyalty despite
Grievances they display,
Then have no doubt that they
Who knelt afore the lie
Will take up weapons fey
As do I, as do I;

And will join in the fight,
Though many ye may slay,
Since they stand in the right
Their cause they shan't betray.
Although the downtrod may
While in suffering cry,
They'll make thee rue the day
As do I, as do I.

Prince, wander not astra

Undersea VolcanoSlumbering deep beneath the earth
The pressure gradually builds;
On the surface, still as a tomb,
Low rumblings are scarcely felt,

Yet slow swelling betrays the truth.
An upwelling expands the girth,
Soon threatening to blow its top
With a fury that makes rock melt.

But under the waves is a dearth
Of witnesses to the shudder,
Sending a warning of no worth –
An infrasonic pulse of doom –

Until dry land has a new birth
Rising from a watery womb.

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Weighty Matters

by ~A--Anthony, Jan 2, 2013, 2:05:05 AM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

Heavy the head
That wears the crown;
Bowed down with dread,
Pride circled round.

Heavy the arm
That bears the rod,
Inflicting harm
As though from God.

Heavy the heart
That reigns on high;
Ever apart,
A royal lie.

Heavy the realm
That bides the king,
His gilded helm
And lethal sting.

Heavy the blade
Swinging swift down,
Freeing the head
Of its grim crown.

Heavy the grave,
But light the lot
For peoples saved,
And monarchs not.

Weighty Mattersby ~A--Anthony

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Traditional Fixed Forms

The Tudors marathon. Enough said.

(2013)

~~love 0 0~~

joy 1 1

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~artisticsoul592 Jan 19, 2013

Great poem!

~A--Anthony Jan 19, 2013

Thanks!

~WalkinginDreamlight Jan 14, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

I like the imagery of your poem and found it easy to read and visualise.

Thank you for sharing.

~A--Anthony Jan 14, 2013

Thank you for commenting

~juliusonsteroids Jan 9, 2013

I'm jealous of how smoothly you rhyme. Really ambitious rhyme scheme, especially considering how much you limited yourself in terms of syllable count. Have you ever used a form like a bref double or sonnet? I think you'd be really good at them, and it would be interesting to see what kind of imagery you would use. I think that's what I miss most when I read your poems. I'm used to reading poems that are more image than substance...although I really like how your poems flow and how much action occurs, they still feel somewhat hollow to me.

~A--Anthony Jan 13, 2013

Well, decided to attempt a bref double after your suggestion

[link] Enjoy!

~A--Anthony Jan 9, 2013

Thanks for the compliment again

I like tight rhyme schemes, they keep me from getting too verbose (literary diarrhea, as I tend to describe it to my friends). I do admit most of the terse ones lack a great deal of description, I think I prefer writing ballad-like poems that rest more on story than creating detailed images, probably something I should work on.
I haven't ever tried a bref double or sonnet, but I love different forms, they feel like putting together a jigsaw puzzle with words

I'll definitely look into trying a few. Thanks!

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Weighty Mattersby ~A--Anthony

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