ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
I moor upon the distant docks
That find their bearings on the rocks;
The mists are deep, defying sight,
And scatter every mote of light,
Their fuzzy outlines twinkling
And in the distance mingling.
The only constancy I see
In waves is inconsistency,
Their ebbs and flows have highs and lows
That pause at times, or come in droves
To lap against the shifting flanks
Of wooden boats and riverbanks.
Though winds may change and tides may roll,
Within the bay, my heart feels whole
And finds an anchor for the soul.
That find their bearings on the rocks;
The mists are deep, defying sight,
And scatter every mote of light,
Their fuzzy outlines twinkling
And in the distance mingling.
The only constancy I see
In waves is inconsistency,
Their ebbs and flows have highs and lows
That pause at times, or come in droves
To lap against the shifting flanks
Of wooden boats and riverbanks.
Though winds may change and tides may roll,
Within the bay, my heart feels whole
And finds an anchor for the soul.
Literature
Going, Going... Gone
We're going again, setting an easy to follow course With diminishing chances of us getting off this horse Because we are too familiar for it to just let us go. We are the horsemen of folly, masters of this path Yet we wish to buck the horse and what it symbolizes: A trend that never should've been set but unlike others Possesses relentless staying power beyond our control... At least, it seems to feel less possible with each passing day. How long will we keep going... and are we already gone? With accusations seeming more appealing than answers And a twisted new normal stepping on all our feet, Trying to root us to what we should be felling... I fear The answer may be too obvious for any more words.
Literature
A Journey to Tranquility
Eagerly I open doors to opportunities never taken before then step beyond thresholds that rattle my nerves with fear and excitement To move forward is the goal and venture towards new horizons equipped with mementos of past exploits safe inside the satchel that is my soul The ground feels unsteady like an old stone bridge long neglected above a deep dark ravine . . . where all I can do is to be careful step by step Rain may fall or snow or even hail—
Literature
The Hurt Place
It’s an old place, Ancient when he was young, Aging behind golden dreams, Growing as the traps were sprung. It’s a rotten place, Scents decay and filthy stung, Worms, mites, and maggots teem, Winds of acid corrode the lung. It’s a sad place, Fading spirits strung, Of terror, dismay, and screams, Unheard by bitten tongue. It’s a deep place, Lowest on the rung, Below flint and iron seams, Where desires are sorely flung.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Day 19 of NaPoWriMo.
Spinning some verses in iambic tetrameter and contemplating Hebrews 6:18-19: "So that by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have taken refuge would have strong encouragement to take hold of the hope set before us. This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil."
Spinning some verses in iambic tetrameter and contemplating Hebrews 6:18-19: "So that by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have taken refuge would have strong encouragement to take hold of the hope set before us. This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil."
© 2016 - 2024 Parsat
Comments2
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
The rhythm is lovely - lines 3 through 6 are my favorites (even though I suspect "twinkling" and "mingling" really only count for two syllables apiece). The payoff at the end is nice, too.