|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The DraftA woman waiting by the window,
Statue held by bated breath
No letters yet, no news of death.
The draft has come and cleared the board,
Of all but Bishops, Knights and Queens.
The Pawns have gone to play abroad,
And die in budget battle scenes.
To fall with phosphor flashing rounds
The Draft has come, Oh empty towns.
Fallen.He fell from the sky and told us how to live. He danced from the moment the sun rose in the painful morning sky until it finally disappeared behind the diminishing horizon. We watched him with breathless anticipation, wondering why he made our hearts beat that little bit faster. It was all we could do to watch, not daring to join in for fear that he would see into our souls and confirm our worst fears.
But after that sunset; the beautiful and lonely sunset; he himself would promptly disappear behind a sturdy wooden door, and there he would stay until the day began again. We often heard the muffled sobbing through the door. We tried to gain entry time and time again, but the door was barricaded. He barred the way into his room; into his soul.
This routine went on for a long time, like a warped dance routine in itself. We couldn't count the times it repeated itself; by the second sunset it seemed like forever. A forever that bewitched our souls; perfect because the angel was dancing; dan
The Willow's StoryWalking by the waterways
I spied a weeping willow,
Green of leaf but bent in grief
A masterpiece of sorrow.
Unsure of why this tree were broke
In lowered voice I softly spoke:
Willow, tell me why you weep
Do you despise the hum of flies?
Are you sick of water deep?
Do you look upon the glaring skies
And long for hollow sleep?
Human I have watched this world
Too many years in silent thought,
I've reached for stars with limb unfurled
With twigs and branches overwrought.
That lofty race was never won,
I who stretched towards the sun
Ceased to grow and now I know,
Truly I am nearly done.
For such as us live fleeting lives
And only grow so tall,
When willows reach a certain size,
Long leaves begin to fall.
This is how you find me here,
Sick from unknown ill
And is it weak to shed a tear
That all will soon be still?
Though may I ask you sit with me?
And read some rhyme out loud,
Perhaps of immortality
To lift this morbid cloud.
Forgive me Willow if you wo
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More