Creative Writing
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Let me smile Just for a while. I feel you weeping In the newest night Where the keenest fright Has washed us both of our right To feel content, within our light. Why do we cry? Why shed tears, as birds Made to float or fly As droplets glide Down to people’s cheeks That are…
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My beauty With eyes the curves to the Earth, Encompassing what makes the land and seas, Give yourself to me, And fret no more. You have lips to be kissed, As soft as my heart once could not be Until a specific attraction To where I place my mouth. For it is not to the…
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Without a crown,I am no empireFor you to call homeUpon the highest throneWhere thorns wrap aroundAnd feed our pain a greater wordThan mere want. Here is a wedding in spring.There are your lips, for the tasteWith droplets falling offLike from the tulip’s petals. Here are your eyesFor the cherishing,For the yearning,For the blessing, of our…
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Long since I’ve known you, To see the books upon the shelves in your mind, To know that you have no pages alike The women across the lane, The women across the meadow, Nor the women across the whole of Earth. You are no one’s equal, Drowned, as you are, in my current of endearing…
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Let me lay beside you Cold, in the rain While you shield me in your arms, Like a mother without a child. I feel like a man without power, Like a man without a smile, Like someone without the world to bring up, As you do. Little woman, with passion about yourself, Do not let…
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How does one reach within The bare chest of a woman, without covering To receive the heart that has darkened itself To the sun? Love usually fed upon her flesh Enough that when I came to her She was the sun, not the moon that cries in the shadows. She received no darkness upon one…
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She has pages bonded to see one anotherBy the threads of her heartstrings.She has fuel for her happinessSomeplace or other. I love her with all of my wingsTo spread her warmth across her battlefield.Love is breaking her apart,Though she finds it more to mend. A history of one womanIs as the broken stars and the…
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A face of much graceHas sought to look beyond herselfTo my soul,Where she discovered a corruption.A devotion,A respectFor her among the rest,Was something I held upon, for dearest whiles. Life leaves no inconsistenciesUpon beating hearts.Yet, that turns towards the misfortuneOf being uncertainWhen love drops its dew into the portrait. All of fear,Had been held so…
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Bleed me in the open, Drink me in the open, Drink my contents That have been spent. Bleed, and nourish yourself Lady of beauty. You seem to enjoy this While I despair in the solitude Of my tears. I creep among my own ashes, I stay awake among my own grave, I sing a note…
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As I’ll leave you on the edge You’ll bleed over me, your emotions and pledges. What did you first think of love My saved darling? Your bluest tears, Your reddest lips, Your palest face Doesn’t seem to lift from the sadness Where you drink it through. You swear to me, That life did not leave…
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I have forgotten what it meant for her to stay alive. I have forgotten what it meant for her to keep trying. Love was once the ground for her to walk upon, though it has collapsed beneath herself. She bleeds tears to create the roses, with dew to drop off petals into the ground. Pain…
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Pain is the wellspring of all things creative. When it comes to writing, we create lists. We can jot down what troubles us, what moves us into tears that fall into hands. Why not throw those tears down onto the page, in the most metaphorical sense? What is the alternative to not writing the pain?…
Modern Romanticism 