Creative Writing
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Memories are there for the mind to soak itself, in waters so murky or translucent, that feelings will continue to haunt and create sensations for the body to feel. Alessio is feeling upon this day the pain of hardness. Though, it is in a meditative state. For he is sitting with his eyes buried in…
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Memories are there for the mind to soak itself, in waters so murky or translucent, that feelings will continue to haunt and create sensations for the body to feel. Alessio is feeling upon this day the pain of hardness. Though, it is in a meditative state. For he is sitting with his eyes buried in…
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A man’s conscious mind demands that he gains in order to impress. This occurs first and foremost, for his subconscious mind demands that he passively search for love, and for the rest he desires most. A man’s weakness comes from his own subconscious, because his conscious mind had always been compelling him towards trivial gains,…
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Wishful moments, you hope forTo arise,But, you’ll merely lay your head forward,To cry.To weep the lands infertile soils away,And soon seen the end of days. Your eyes hang heavyUpon all times, when your head sinks on the harbor,When your body sinks on the shoreline,When your face digs into the sand,And your tears soon create the…
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What saves me from painTo today’s broken time? The clock’s hands have shattered fingers,And they point to empty moments.They drag across my lap, where my eyes are placed,Because, my heart has relapsed,It has retractedAnd feels nothing. I have given all to you.Everything but a heart, that remains bruised and black,And has backed itself to an…
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Stone and ivory have a clash, that repeatsItself, in frequent cues.Alike the shores of pebbled beaches, to walk upon their texture,And then to notice,How some may stick upon the soles of a foot.And I am against your breast,The ivory texture that is much alikeThe soles of your feet,That had plodded course after course, over my…
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If non-fiction is defined as the recount of a specific event that occurred in reality, then just how much creativity can be attributed to a real occurrence, before it becomes fiction? As in, the truth must be nothing but the truth, and if this is a fact, then where is the line for the creativity?…
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Pleasures sometimes, and only sometimes,Stifle themselves,Upon our walks through boarded passageways and times alone,When we may see the shores with its naked sands,Fused like longing upon longing.What will the seas become, without the sands beneath?As scarlet as your lips,We are lone with only our shadowsAmong depravity.We dwell, in faraway eyes, over those oceans, and their…
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Have you found what you needed mostBeneath the star and tinsel?We both once shared hands, to dive withinThe sea and its shining surface,So that we could send kisses to each other’s faces,Beneath that blueness,Beneath that openness.And yet, we stand beneath the tree with its most mournful appearance,And gaze with eyes upon each lit bulb, each…
Modern Romanticism 