*The Necklace*Venetian glass heartRainbow colour locked withinMemento of love.:iconcocoheartplz:2014 Delice19417th April2014
*Waterfall*Waterfall musicRainbow light, luminous sprayCascade, crescendo.2014 Delice194111th April2014
*West Wind*Aromatic ZephyrusSwept across lavender fieldFragrant lace sachet.2014 Delice19415th April2014
*Peace*Silence is profoundIncense smell, candlelightPerfect peace prevails2014 Delice194120th April2014
*Life Transcended*Immortal poetEndowed with eternal voiceLife lived on the page.2013 Delice19414th November2013
*Lonely Walk*Desolate shoreEmpty windswept beachGrey ocean surge.2014 Delice19418th February2014
*Magnolia*Magnolia bloom Ephemeral enchantressFloral beauty queen.2014 Delice194118th April2014
*Aspirations*Delice aspiringTo live on immortal pageWe all have our dreams2013 Delice19415th November2013
*Lavender*Lavendar moment stupor under midday sunBlue floral fragranceDried to perfectionEasy on the eye
windmillyour arms, open sailsgathering wind energyjust to keep me warm.
Aurora Borealisstars streak the canvasof goddesses witheclectic brilliance
Rainbowi.I have a bouquet of lightcliquesof shattered sunraysthat shun thosewhose rose is not as rubicundor whose cerulean is only slightly sea-green-stained.Slice up the whiteand imprison it in sardine canssyringesand push the plungers home.But no matter how much you may trythe result is death;for you've frayed the perfect threadsbeyond repairAnd only dried minerals and plasmasome darker version of the cosmic latte concentrated.ii.My heart is a prism.All that's around meis coldand bleaksome hibernating hummingfrozen beneath the winter's coat.And inside,I must be a time machine,because I cannot abide this monochrome much longer.And I've sprung forward to spring.I'm seizing the iciclesthat drip from the pallid cloudsand stripping themand cutting themand setting themand in my heart they are transcribedand flowers bloomin the rumination of the sunlight.I'm bursting;a host to the aquatic fermentationand I sip this bouquetan imitation of the future,slipping
LitanyLitanyI would like to tattooa poem on my skin, or perhapsonly a few choice lines, the importantones that I'll never forget.But one line, one poem, would neversuffice; there are so manymore words than that, so manythat have engraved themselveson my heart. I would spend every dayscrawling new words, new poems, newepigrams and witticisms onto my skin, addingto a history of loves and losses -a current of words that startsat my hands and continues up my arms,coiling lazily around my neck then droppingto tenderly spiral around my heart.It would never stop with one.[and that's the reasoni refuse to let you write your nameon my hand-you are already alwayswith me]
Monarch MorningsMistress Monarch spreadsRorschach-splattered wingsover white-capped mountains,a new dawn seen throughthin antennae masksand yellow-trimmed lace.
Love Letter to ChopinNo matter the number of strings I pull,the number of keys I crash and speakersI blow and records I scratch,I can’t quite chase the sound of the pianoas it echoed through the hallto my ear pressed to the door.Nocturne No. 20 will always be yours.It will always be your untied shoelacesand white-collar shirt between four stained wallswhere the violinists and cellists tuned their instrumentsto the key of increasing hysteriaand pre-concert jitters.It will be your fingers practicing your piecewhile the rickety bench croaked its own songand your laugh at the way your feet tingledin your shoes. It will be our calming breathswaiting in the hallway for our name to be called.It will be the way I tried not to breatheintoo deeply as we huddled,our eyes catching fragments of the cellists and violiniststhrough the crack in the door.It will be the colour of the walls where I hidand the taste of the water that washed away my tearswhen I couldn’t take it,could
*Corsage*Dried flowerDehydrated dreamtimeNostalgiaGardenia corsageGentle fragrance lingers.2014 Delice194117th February2014"All rights reserved"
*River Styx*Invisible soulWhere is the ferryman?Running late tonight.2014 Delice194120th April2014
*Wings*Eternally fixedSoft coloured wingsLovely butterflySilver safety chainIt flies no more.2014 Delice194117th July2014
a jar of not-quite-nothingA jar to catch fireflies.A simple enough concept: wait for the twilight hours stay alert for twinkling yellow then, give chase.The problem was my aim(or rather, my lack thereof.Plus, I didn't really like bugsanyways).I never caught any. And yet,the jar overflows with childish peals of laughter cricket chirps summer air, ever-blowing kicked-up dirt wisps of evening cloud and the light from the stars.If I look at that jar fromjust the right angle,I can still see it alight with angel glow:the bright, twinkling yellowof firefly light.
Hope is a beaconHer lighthouse eyesguide him home.
winterice sculpts the sunrise,filters down to still the day;silver mists echo
The ArtistShe talked to rocks, asking them if they’d be happyTo leave their home for her newest installation pieceShe cried sometimes for no reason other thanShe felt like having a good cryHer house was covered in her students’ drawingsShe said the best art was produced from innocenceShe went mad once, and painted canvas after canvasIn furious strokes of blackThe soft blue world of youth at last faded, she grew oldPeople shook their heads when they saw herAnd whispered “poor dear” under their breathBut she was never poorHer love for everything and everyone never diedIt was swept in all directions like a summer breezeMaking people smile without knowing whyBut the river rocks know
Sleep WellBedtime storiesare told by memories,and often endwith a hero dying inside us.
In Sync And AliveI saw a reflection,but not of me,there was no mirrorIt was a thought,then a feeling,frozen in a moment i was looking intoGratitude,what an amazing thing it is to be alive,right here,right nowMy story is what got me here,even as i went outside the lines,they still all straightened outI used to use needles to avoid the truth of my actions,allowed them to slowly suck away all of my passionI would paint smiles on my face with a blood stained paint of illusionBut i could never fool myself,i always knew if i didnt change i would never be more then a dead man walkinI had soulless eyes syncing in harmony with my death rattle of a heart beatMy thinking was polluted with of visions darkness and rage,i was locked up in my homicidal cage of a mindNo freedom,a hope to die dope fiend waiting for my soul to pass judgement on my spiritGuilty as charged,i was where the darkness ran to,i couldnt escape myselfI didnt just dance with the devil,i ran him out of hell,it was mine alone,there wasnt
if every second was a perfect soundI realised yesterdaythat there is no time in life for half-measures –when I love people I want to love them loudly enough that they know it.I want to tie my heart to the sleeves of every passer-byso that they understand how much I want them around.I want to write love on scrap paper and tuck it into the crevices in walls like a birthday wishand never let misanthropy grow where it shouldn’t be.The sun burns itself just to send light out for thousands of milesand keep us alive.I want to try.
I'll Never Grow TiredTonight I'm going to stop youon the porch, we'll stand toe to toethe way we used to whenthe pulse that thrummedquick and strong through our veinssang out our young, unbridled hope.Our eyes will meet and,just like the first time,I'll take a moment to run my fingersthrough your shining thoughts andcaress the sharp lines of your mind.I'll lean forward and press my lips ontothe the flower-petal curve of your self-expression,and that will be enough for youto take me by the handand lead me up the stairs.In the soft moonlight that filters throughthe trees and our gauzy curtainsI'll unbutton your fears and slip them from your shoulders,revealing smooth broad dreams. And,careful not to miss a single freckle of insecurity,I'll kiss my way down to the hollow of your throat,where your soft-spoken tendenciesrest among unshakable beliefs. Between the ridges of your ribs I'll count your worriesand smooth them away with my fingertips.Over the subtle curve of your hipsI'
Recipe for a WriterLead eyeliner smears;a collection of carbon;tears hung on a line.
*Graffiti*Graffiti scrawled wallKaleidoscope colourGratuitous art.2014 Delice19413rd April 2014