ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
A winter of discontent is promis’d
To those who have once tasted balmy bliss:
Governs this e’en the Sun’s timely descent
From lofty Olympus to deep Oceanus,
Curtailing the day’s expanse with his flight—
Lo, what grace! A starry wake trails behind—
If only men could fall so majestic!
But, alas! How callously doth cold near
Like an unwelcome spectre ere Dawn’s break
To be inhal’d in the midst of sweet dreams,
Instilling blood-chilling nightmares that steal
A cheek’s youthful blush and a heart’s gay beat,
For stony gravity sinks frozen soul
Into a man’s bowels—nay, deeper still:
To the shade of nine-circl’d Erebus,
Whither laments torment the stagnant air
And the filth of sin corrupts innocence,
Until he may inherent a serpent’s warmth.
So have I fallen too, and still I fall—
A constant plunge into the stygian unknown;
But, o! how this shy hollowness resounds
With a blaring boldness that shuns weak will,
For black vengeance seeps from this ego
Twice steep’d in defeat and tarnished pride,
As my name rides a sea of whispers
That hushes the lustre of glories past:
“Behold! Behold the wounds of the once divine!
Step! Step on him lest he should rise! The wreaths!
Yes! Take we must what no longer fits him!”
Thus, render'd me hath barbaric Envy
A fool’s lame ass laden by misfortune;
“Steal! Steal into the night—into the day!”
Yet I reply, and tie I this tongue too,
For patience sweetens the wine of conquest.
Peace, o quivering spirit! I promise
Thee delight to mark those now mournful tears;
But, first, let’s befriend this loyal shadow,
And wrap ourselves in grey winter’s embrace;
Let us further sink t’ still tranquillity—
Aye, let us be the unwavering sea
That under a tempest’s wrath unbridled
Maintains its humour—and like this sea
Let us ascend ‘pon the ripest moment:
When virgin Phoebe sits with coyness quit
And seizes us—madden'd by her allure,
Fall shall we with a tsunami’s swift sweep!
Fall shall we, so quiet yet relentless!
Thus, fall shall we more graceful than the Sun!
To those who have once tasted balmy bliss:
Governs this e’en the Sun’s timely descent
From lofty Olympus to deep Oceanus,
Curtailing the day’s expanse with his flight—
Lo, what grace! A starry wake trails behind—
If only men could fall so majestic!
But, alas! How callously doth cold near
Like an unwelcome spectre ere Dawn’s break
To be inhal’d in the midst of sweet dreams,
Instilling blood-chilling nightmares that steal
A cheek’s youthful blush and a heart’s gay beat,
For stony gravity sinks frozen soul
Into a man’s bowels—nay, deeper still:
To the shade of nine-circl’d Erebus,
Whither laments torment the stagnant air
And the filth of sin corrupts innocence,
Until he may inherent a serpent’s warmth.
So have I fallen too, and still I fall—
A constant plunge into the stygian unknown;
But, o! how this shy hollowness resounds
With a blaring boldness that shuns weak will,
For black vengeance seeps from this ego
Twice steep’d in defeat and tarnished pride,
As my name rides a sea of whispers
That hushes the lustre of glories past:
“Behold! Behold the wounds of the once divine!
Step! Step on him lest he should rise! The wreaths!
Yes! Take we must what no longer fits him!”
Thus, render'd me hath barbaric Envy
A fool’s lame ass laden by misfortune;
“Steal! Steal into the night—into the day!”
Yet I reply, and tie I this tongue too,
For patience sweetens the wine of conquest.
Peace, o quivering spirit! I promise
Thee delight to mark those now mournful tears;
But, first, let’s befriend this loyal shadow,
And wrap ourselves in grey winter’s embrace;
Let us further sink t’ still tranquillity—
Aye, let us be the unwavering sea
That under a tempest’s wrath unbridled
Maintains its humour—and like this sea
Let us ascend ‘pon the ripest moment:
When virgin Phoebe sits with coyness quit
And seizes us—madden'd by her allure,
Fall shall we with a tsunami’s swift sweep!
Fall shall we, so quiet yet relentless!
Thus, fall shall we more graceful than the Sun!
Literature
Largesse
Imagine spraying the donation box grey,
Making it a gravestone and
Bow as if to pray;
But instead inscribe "He gave generously"
On the face of Paternoster square.
Remember to strip the cube clean,
Don your human skin
And bring our carrion
Luggage to be picked apart upon arrival.
The crows would like us to queue at gate nine,
And fill our pockets with cash,
Diplomatic immunity works well, so
We'll be patient until we crash.
The Empire of the Crow is a devious place,
So please remember, Sir, to keep
Antebellum in mind, we can't maintain this pace.
Literature
Self story
Fell off cliff. Saved by ground.
Literature
writers block
its as if time stands still
as if it freezes
its as if your brain has shutdown
as if it has failed you
words are mouthed
but no sound comes out
ink drips
but no words are formed
the words won't flow
the ink will dry
the paper will wilt
the brain will cease to work
seconds turn to minutes
minutes turn to hours
hours turn to days
and days turn to weeks
how long will it last
no one ever knows
the clock turns
and time runs out
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Written: 22 July 2014
Inspired by Shakespeare's Richard III.
~シナト
Inspired by Shakespeare's Richard III.
~シナト
© 2014 - 2024 Shinato-Kawasaki
Comments3
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
I feel a cold chill and then a warm torch, but it is extinguished by the navy waves of the cold, winter ocean. When I say these words, the only thing that comes to light is the mind of a killer weirdly enough. The sense of unsatisfaction lays on his mind, but it is replaced with the joy of the moment, only to be swept away by the end of the scene.
Maybe I just noticed it, but your poems are getting seemingly darker in my eye. Maybe I'm just misinterpreting them.
Anyways, great work as always. ;D
Maybe I just noticed it, but your poems are getting seemingly darker in my eye. Maybe I'm just misinterpreting them.
Anyways, great work as always. ;D