Written for my best friend, my attempt to reassure her that she can acheive all of her goals in life, despite the challenges involved, and that I will be with her on every step of that journey: Journeying south, The last river soul, Contemplates her favoured course, In watchful stillness. Tracing the path, To the waters edge, Your footsteps, Are mine, mirrored, Dutiful at your side. Born a...
An Observer's Notes
Various and accelerating, Absorbed in studies of the others anatomy, The drifting forces of impulse, (Loose throwbacks of a primitive psyche) Stand defiant at the boundaries, Of each pale pupil, Seeking freedom in my reply, Release via our shared ideal, Fulfilment beneath a common sky.
Among the mountain’s ragged pinnacle, Wounds forged by an unseen hand, There is a dwelling place, Breaking from the taken path, To climbs memory cannot recall, A traveller may stumble upon it, Knowing his discovery, In the winds rumours, The hushed talk of scattered stone, He shall raise his eyes, and spirit, For judgement, To place his allegiance, With masters ocean or sky, Held within this...
Wonders that your eyes foretold, Surround, lips move in whispers, Tracing patterns, Your body is something more, Something temptation had not forewarned. Eyes that wonder what I had assumed, As my words moved in whispers, For something stirred, When I traced your elegant patterns, Across the chambers of my heart. Hearts that beat restless in cool dusk, The night air moves in whispers, You stir...
A stranded radio’s static resistance, Trickling through fingers of fine rain, Melts the new songs, To their basic components, Drawing from a history of sound, The slopes echo, Their unchanged tongues, Defiant, masterful of many Receding languages, Sheltered in the valley’s closed fist, From urban signals.
Drawing, like painting and other art forms, is an act of appreciation and love,...
Carried into this ceremonial day, (Assertive and demanding in its title) The air whispered no sign of change, Exploits of the flowers persisted , A lover channelled fingers, Through their adorned hair, With no new grace or fondness, He gave his reason, Parting at the same seasonal hour, The crimson gathering of faces, Preserved the same frailty, No less beautiful, Smiling up to me.
This is a piece I had to write for English Literature, with the objective being to use gothic features to create a short story, similar to those by Edgar Allen Poe, for example. It ended up quite long, and wordy, but as I haven’t written prose for a while I’d appreciate any feedback :) The Sanctuary. He had found it, he was certain. The lock was aged and weary, precautious of...
Dead Arts In The Present Day
Man had strived, With ever-new determination, To strike the earths wealth, Among her deepest chambers, Rapid muscle stretching and returning, With the shard of painted gold, Reflecting the face of his labours, In the dark focus, of its onyx stare. One channel of sky, Escapes in his descent, This new world, Shaped in the image of their fire, Shimmers beneath a blanket of stars, Amid the hoarded...
The world can wait for a moment, Demand and deadline hold Their own council, Occupied in idleness. Time, in her fixations, Surveying beginnings, progress, Decay, the romantic end, Rests, watching, Our hands entwine. Palms holding peace talks, Fingers folding in sublime patterns, Re-born art forms, Fluid, living testament, Proclaiming powers, Of connection, Timeless. Breathless, between- Our...
readingwritingandarithmetic asked: Hi Danny I love your poem. Submit. Who am I to judge whether it fits the theme or not? Anyway, keep writing, I enjoy your stuff.
Which uni are you off to?
Which uni are you off to?
You watch me, The patient regard of each rose, Is your gaze, The scarlet of your surrounds, A garment, encircling the slender frame, Flowing- The thorn of your defence, Is less than my passions, And at last, in your surrender, A being they call ‘us’ begins, My hands teach an immortality, That you should bloom, Throughout all seasons.
One The silver city breaths at last, Enveloped in sleep, Beneath the moon’s watchful gaze. Two Exhaling vapourous streams, Of conciousness, new Life for the now, of late spring. Three Leaves share whispers in the dusk, Knowledge exchanged as, Teachings to the lesser man.
Hey guys, this is a poem I’ve posted on here previously, but I’m thinking of entering it into a competition being run by Christ Church College, Oxford, on the theme of ‘simplicity’. If you’d like to have a read through it, feel free to let me know if it’s of a high enough standard or suitable for the theme, thanks :) A Meeting Place (On reading Rainer Maria...
whisperedverse-deactivated20110 asked: Thanks for following. I'm loving your verse. Well done.
My best --
My best --
It has been said that all art is the reflection of the artist; he enters into his masterpiece his very heart and soul, his mind, his body, with the desire that these results may not only present their own story, but that of their creator. Where man succeeds now is in shaping the future, progressing in stride after previously inconceivable stride through the realms of technology and communication,...
readingwritingandarithmetic asked: Hi there, you've got some fab stuff here. Think I'm going to enjoy reading!
myhiddendesire asked: Thank you for following! Your writing is pretty amazing :)
missmusings-deactivated20120108 asked: Your work is astounding. I'm so glad to have stumbled across your blog. Hope you're having an amazing day so far :] ~Melody
recycledpages-deactivated201102 asked: Well, sir, I'd like to thank you for following (which I usually don't do) but I see you are a fellow writer and I wanted to say that I am excited to read some of you work and get to know you on this crazy tumblr adventure :)
A Heart-Felt Truth
Deceptions of the heart, (Are true) Truth has no place, In that which the heart creates, (In each beat) (Tells of desires the heart knows) Everything my heart creates, is you....
Risen from this throbbing Heart of the city, Lyrical incantations, Bloom to fulfilment, Disguised in ornate design, Of concrete, Each pavement, Each window, a stage, For the play of dynamic silhouettes, Engaged in pages of tragedy, Shaped beyond one pane, The dance of Salome, A gallery of masks adorned, Actors pursuing the performance Of their lives. Beyond, an echoed curtain fall, Gathers one...
'On Rare Mornings...'
On rare mornings, I have tempted fate, In choosing dark coffee, As the liquor of the early hours, Saving the rich, golden tones, Of a sweeter alternative, For the leisurely afternoon. I am thorough in my work, Mixing industrious thought, Into the brewing process, Both clockwise And counter clockwise Daring enough, For surprising assertiveness, I cast in further...
Back arching upward, Her neck line reaches, For higher approval, Presenting a sheet music of nerves, Responsive to the touch, She knows little, Of what we have made, In her gentle slope, The violins faint curve, Sculptured porcelain, Of heart-made craftsmanship, Leaning melodic recitals, In movement and flow, And still, the perfect note, The resonating song, Released with the Manipulation, of each...