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The StruggleThough once I said it was adversity
That birthed the most imaginative verse,
In darkness lies no creativity,
Despair itself destroys and gives no birth.
It murders, leaving no recourse for mercy,
Swallowing up the brightest minds, its maw
Insatiable except for vilest cursing
Of self-inflicted wounds all rubbed and raw.
But when the light inside me flickers fire
And cuts through darkness with its needle rays,
The smallest candlelight might then inspire
Poetic justice for defeated days.
In light alone do shadows find their shape,
The struggle from which poems find escape.
WoundsThe time when verses flow most freely from my mind
Is not when life has altogether been too kind:
The echoed strains of joy, what words could catch and capture
The speechlessness of laughter, hearts abrim with rapture?
It's hopelessness and sorrow baring wounds through words,
A crust of scabbed emotions daring to be heard;
It itches mightily, and though you want to rip
Apart the hurt and all reminders in one strip,
It stings to know there is no bottom but an ooze,
This awful spring of inspiration, pain-infused.
But give it time to heal, protect it from all harm,
And off it comes. The skin beneath is new and warm
And paler than before, but solid in its form.
Memory #4: The CostIn my sophomore year, we would have prayer meetings every Wednesday afternoon. I would say that weekly meetups and prayer meetings were the times I learned the most that year. On one level, I learned about prayer itself, and how many different ways you could pray. You could pray through the Word (praying through a psalm was a particular favorite of mine), you could pray in one voice with each other, you could simply praise and adore God, or thank him. Along with my meetups I learned more about confessing in prayer as well. On another level, I learned a lot about the many different things we could intercede for. We would pray for our campus, our ministry, our missionaries, and most importantly, our people and the various facets of their lives. It felt that every prayer meeting was learning a new thing about prayer.
But even more than these substantial lessons, I learned a lot from the older people who led the prayers. Seeing their example as prayerful men and women left a deep impressio
UnspokenUntil the day appointed when I stand
And tell you all the hope you fill in me,
I'll tell you naught of what I understand
Within my heart, unseized by urgency.
For in the promise now I see no need
To haste the swelling feeling deep inside
Nor give up hope: to pray and not to plead,
To slowly bridge this shortening divide.
But we are closer than I could have thought,
And in the light of such proximity
The sentiment our interactions wrought
Are all too easy for your eyes to see.
For now, let this reward you for your wait:
The tenderness my actions indicate.
LifthrasirWhose princely air proudly
Passed the sea in freefalls,
Who sought peace, sword flaming,
Striking words like forgefalls,
Pride of Berk, battleworn,
Breathing life where strife falls,
Prized by Líf in prayer:
Their pressed lips, blessed footfalls.
Away at HomeLord, be my home and all my stay
When even home feels far away:
Let my own kin say what they may,
Lord, be my home and all my stay.
For heaven holds me in its sway,
My single passion day to day.
Lord, be my home and all my stay
When even home feels far away.
Sandwich IslandPotato salad and a turkey bacon:
All it took to show me how the days
Have heaped on like a sandwich in the making.
Twenty years now stacked on bright red trays
With food and paper plates and Styrofoam,
Symbols of good taste and friendly ways.
I wonder what had roused her then to roam
And settle in this aging college town.
She heard me speak the language of her home
And something must have moved her heart deep down
To save my weekly order in her mind.
Some turn to comfort food upon a frown,
And yet more consolation there I find
A fullness of a heartfelt， hometown kind.
Memory #2: NinjaIn the final days of APUSH my junior year, our teacher had us write letters to ourselves five years from now. Last week it came into the mail, and understandably, I was curious to see what my 16 year old self wanted to tell my 21 year old self. As it turns out, he didn’t really have much to say (so my memory of not knowing what to write was confirmed), only to talk to a bunch of my friends and to refer to a game we used to play: Ninja.
I don’t remember who brought Ninja into West Ranch High School, but I remember that when it did hit it was the bomb. The basic premise of the game was that everyone would stand in a circle, and you would count to three. On three, everyone would strike a pose, and taking turns, you would try to hit other people’s hands to get them out. The goal was to be the last person standing.
I’ve played it a couple times in college, and hearing of other people’s different versions, I can safely conclude that we took Ninja way too serious
Memory #1: The Perfect BiteI don't remember what age I was exactly when I had In-N-Out for the first time. It was when I was five or six, around preschool or kindergarten. But I can vividly remember what it tasted like, where we were, and how I earned it.
At the time, I had two major haunts: the Duarte public library and the LA Zoo. Now in those days, the public libraries had a deal of some sort where if you read five books, you could get a certificate for a free hamburger. Being the kind of kid who would check out and read 20 or so books a week, I made short work of it. I remember my mom taking me and my little sister to the In-N-Out in Arcadia, the one that has no indoor seating, and I remember she took us to a park. It was quite a nice summer day, and we sat on a picnic bench in the shade. My mom let me carry the bag, and I remember that I was ravenous by the time we got there. It smelt so good, and when I bit into it, I don't think I have ever had a better bite of a burger than that first bite. Soft bun, sau
To an Internet AdmirerI can't love someone I've never met.
My heart just doesn't work that way.
You tell me that you won't forget.
Well this is what I have to say:
You don't know my face,
You don't know my heart,
You don't know my name,
We're too far apart.
I know I seem cold,
But I cannot lie.
It would be unfair
For me to comply.
I can’t love a dream.
I need someone real.
I need true passion.
I need to feel.
I’m flattered by your compliments
That’s all my feelings consist of.
How can I love a dream
When I can’t even find real love?
StormThe perfect storm approaches,
pulls the strings, my strings.
I walk a path, light torches.
The storm is what love brings.
A thunder deafens birds momentously,
erases songs, all sounds at all.
It hits, then burns tremendously
and all that stands shall fall.
There is the cyclone, spins around.
Scatters wits with none of force.
All matter crumbles to the ground,
all planets change their course.
I welcome you, my lovely,
crush my being times again.
Make me feel alive and holy
like only your love can.
An Unseen SingerShe was much more than a voice to me,
Yet her face I never got a chance to see,
And so a sweet sounding melody
Is all that remains of her inside of me,
And only when drifting through some dream
Does a wishful vision of her come to be,
This fool's version of reality—
A beauty seen—only through the song she sings.
I Love You. Do you Love Me Too?Hearing a "Yes"
To my "Do you too?"
Is not disconcerting,
Nor is it untrue.
It cuts out the riddle
From "Why wouldn't I?"
Yet I am left hurting,
Though I shouldn't cry.
DulcineeSur ce navire qu'est mon lit trop sage
Je suis les virages de son visage.
J'imagine m'abîmer dans ses bras
Naufragé des rivages de mes draps.
Cette image glacée comme papier
Glisse sur le carrelage, à mes pieds.
Star piétinée sur les boulevards
Partout sera placardé son regard.
Les pupilles brûlées sur la pellicule
Ces cils restent les murs de ma cellule.
Ma dulcinée est une célébrité
Hantant fantasmes et publicité.
Seasons of the HeartWinter wind reaches, fingers fleeting,
Thunder storms and rain drops streaming.
Winter strangled hearts, cold seeping.
Moments fleeting, moments fleeting.
Spring flowers blooming, soft breeze blows,
Water's sweet kisses; dew-grass glows.
Hearts healing as shy sun beams flow.
We can all grow, we can all grow.
The sun's light grows with strength and flair,
Blinding, warming all in its glare.
Passionate hearts walking on air.
No time to care, no time to care.
Red leaves falling drift, slowing time,
Soft sun is setting, finishing its clime.
Love's heat lingers, withstanding time.
Sweet hearts still chime, sweet hearts still chime.
collab with Mordial33'Pon Love, An Aphrodisaic Obium
How oft dost thou lookest to thine heart?
Thy love beest beauty, 'tis beauteous art,
A beacon of light in lovers' dark,
Her name on thy lips in the silence, stark;
Thy love beest beauty, a beauteous art.
How oft hast thou lookest to thine hand?
'Tis red-tinged in color: a rose-stung hand,
Thy blood on the ground doth stain the sand,
A crimson verge from a rose-stung hand,
Thy love beest beauty, an art unplanned.
The Rub'i of Vows Forlorn
The maiden clad in shrouded shades of sorrow sung
To Fate of her yearning while the chapel bells rung,
I swear by these sweet musings my love, 'pon my word:
A song of sweet serenity, with sorrow strung.
A beautiful manA sculptured face of ice
lingers in between the locks of gold.
Lids closing over glacier eyes.
His beauty is the oldest story told.
The music box stops playing
as deft long fingers break it.
His breath on me is flaying,
my soul is pained and naked.
Why his skin is cold like marble?
Also pale, and soft, and lifeless?
His cold kisses tend to startle.
Why his heart is broken clueless?
He says he's waiting in the dark,
gathering dust on shelves of love.
But in fact his hollow body's stark,
his feelings stolen by a dove.
Canto Hacia La LuzCuál será el lugar
A donde van
¿Rechazados por ti?
Puede que el infierno
Sea su morada
Al no tenerte
Desean la muerte.
Te quiere lejos
De su pluma
Y de sus versos.
La estrella fugaz
Que nos inspira
En su efímera marcha
Vive en tu mirada.
Ella nos reta
A capturar su esencia
Renuente a ser
Traducida en letras.
Lleno de locos
Reclama la corono
Hundida en inocencia
Vuestra dama no ve
Es tu belleza.
La rebelde impotencia
Líder del partido
Reprimido en mi conciencia.
Detener la sublevación
Te daría mis ojos
Portadores de pasión.
Para que así
Veas en su magnificencia
La luz de las estrellas
Que iluminan mi vida.
Awakened 0I cannot say the time I fully knew
That you should in my eyes appear so fair.
I found new hope as my affection grew
With time, like locks of your own lovely hair.
My wish has always been to hear your voice,
To overcome the world with love divine:
In finding you as my heart's foremost choice,
I long to see your chamber window shine.
May passing time then validate my rhyme!
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More