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My Hero Love
A beautiful being

Bloomed with every handsome feature

Dusting away all of my tears

Defending me from all of my fears

Whose to say you're not my savor?

Filling that hollow void in my heart

I want to be with you, Never apart

Together forever, What a fantastic dream

But in the end, We can never be

Our worlds they differ, they do

Even so, That won't stop me from loving you
On -Owl-
Night-eyes are watching me,
candles in the dark,
a refractory guardian on guileless wings.
Is that the click of pearls I hear,
or enameled talons, a hungry beak?
When she primps and preens,
I sometimes find
feathers
in her hair,
sleek pinions under her dress.

Good morning, twilight lady.
FreedomsYou have the right
to tell me what I ought to think
how I should believe
what I should accept
and what I must despise.
You have the right
to tell me who I ought to be.

I have the right to ignore you.
Dirty IvoryStrolling out from a
stranger's apartment,
I remembered yesterday's
morning; I
remember the sunrise.

I remember
walking behind the
alleyway in the
mud
rain
sun.
With the gravel beneath
my feet making a
crunching sound, but
not actually
getting crushed.
More like,
getting pushed around like
too many faces in a
crowd.

I remember
warm
orange clouds.

I
remember a
man with a trenchcoat
under one arm.
Lighting a new
cigarette with the ash
of his spent one.
-And the word "silk"
tatooed on his wrinkled
knuckles.

I
remember his
wings, most of
all, his ivory
wings.
Insert Title _1We, the petty,
we, the bourgeois,
poring over mirrors of reflected, collected verse,
only we could drown
in the shallow pools of our own desires.
Self-worth and efficacy distort, distend,
dilate.
Our longing sighs inflate
gauzy bladders, diaphanous,
and we fancy them substantial because they are large -
(We say much the same of our philanthropy.)
- seeking no synonyms,
though "bloated" comes to mind.

A pseudonym can shelter
the sodden intellect, emaciated,
denigrated by false modesties.
How quaint.
How deep, the brainy poet
who breathes his own despite
behind alabaster walls,
sherry perched atop whalebone fingers,
slosh
MYTHODEA ~ Dark Night of Soul
In the labyrinth of darkest dreams, I am the pitch
of coldest night

In the solace of the blackest dawn — I seek you

Where unblinking eyes sojourn in forests wild,
the kiss of ash and sanguine bespeaks
Whispers of a thousand skies rust and fall
The syrup of the gloaming hums thru the trees..
Obsidian mists bejewel the hunger of my soul,
like silhouettes dissolving into the poise of talons
In murk of scorched grove, Witches tears drip from
the leaves… caressing the tip of my tongue

Acrid winds scented by forbidden incantations,
slither deep into the prelude of Love's sacrament
In shallow of ebon fields I bask in beauti
The Harvest MoonThe lunar eclipse, the harvest moon
Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off and sinks upward
To lie in the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon

The Harvest moon has come,
Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon
And earth replies all night, like a deep drum.

So people can't sleep,
so they go out where elms and oak trees keep
A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush
The harvest moon has come!

And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
Closer and closer like the end of the world

till the gold fields of sti
Pirate MoonA bloody moon rose, hungry, through the mist
to wash his crimson glow across the waves
and froth the surging whitecaps with the kiss
that sent ten thousand sailors to their graves.

Beneath that vicious moon, a sail was set –
as was the fate of some poor, hapless crew
oblivious to the impending threat
that drifted ever closer through the blue.

The moon smiled sweetly, bathing naked steel,
as cannon shuddered through the velvet night
to rend the sodden trader, hull and keel
and put an end to her frenetic flight.

The captain's grin shone redder than his sword
As he o'ersaw the booty brought aboard.
Time escapes meTime escapes me,
every second
seems shorter
than the last

every minute
over before
it has begun

every hour
less meaning
on it's own

every day
further away
from the start

every week
another one
in a long cycle

every month
another go
at what will come

every year
seems shorter
than the one before
SuperimposeHe doesn't look like a gymnast. He's all button down shirts and frazzled grey hair framing wire spectacles, a picture perfect professorial archetype down to the very tips of his frayed shoelaces. But he was a gymnast once, or so he tells us, and I believe him because he smiles like he knows something while he's chatting before class.

It's strange to see that image superimposed over the current one – the distinguished professor in pressed khaki slacks and a jacket, worn brown loafers exuding a faintly courteous manner (you can always tell them by their shoes), and a ring on the fourth finger of his left hand – versus the athletic ki
love is hurtingThe beautiful days we held so close, I once said to 'hello' to you.
Our meeting was brief, and simple.
Caring, and kind.
We left with helpless hearts.
Neither regretting, nor forgetting.

Our meeting place, once helped me smile.
Overcoming each day.

I still wish for the past,
with crying into my hands, at last.
Letting lose the tears,
I know I shouldn't fear.
You tell me "You'll move on".

But the glass still digs into my skin, and prickles each time I see you.
Wandering like I'm not here.

I touch my lips, and hope for yours to return.
The tears keep streaming, never forgetting.
62. MagicThe smell of this morn
Brought me up.
Your touch of pure gold
Put me on top.

Your bliss of a goddess
Shook the tremor
The night gave me
Howling in terror.

Let magic run free
For it gives me life.
Magic you swallow
To the end of your strife.

Is it all over?
What happens now?
Think twice!
I vow.

This world is magic.
We are living wild
And free.
This life is tragic.
We are living wild
And free.

I feel I really am the magnet's first pole
And I am attracted to your side.
You don't like to think of the truth.
You pretend you don't know with pride.

But you realize this happens.
I will love you for a life!

Magic
Entangled
Shoulder for your tearsRest on my shoulder
Cry your tears out
Let them fall onto me
So they are out of you
Warm my shoulder with tears
their hot hate no longer yours

Let their energy flow out
I'll take some of it myself
For a memory together
How it's all over now
The Dogs of WarAnd Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
with Ate by his side come hot from hell
shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war;
that this foul deed shall smell above the earth
with carrion men, groaning for burial.

They said the fields ran with ink,
but real men bleed black on white,
and young men bleed green,
and women do not bleed at all.
They said vengeance was a worthy cause.

The dogs of war left teeth-marks in their throats.
Caesar gurgled and died, but his spirit was mute.
Havoc ensued without his order,
and the stones of Rome boiled and flowed
in rivers hot as Ate's eyes.

They
The stars escorted me through the nightThe stars escorted me through the night,
paving a path through weed and grass,
like a drunk tiptoeing on flashlights

the bottle clenched in forgetting hands,
blurring fireflies with lies like watercolors
dimming darker the hue of the night time sky

The stars escorted me through the night,
away from the bridge and its quivering height
Browse More Like This

More from =QuiEstInLiteris

The Medium - Bit 11Eight: Pages
He was gone when she woke up. The electric blanket was smoking quietly in the corner, so she unplugged it and dumped it into the bathtub before it could burn a hole in the carpet, then went to check the couch. He wasn’t there, either. Vickie was watching cartoons, and Kim gave serious thought to reaming her out, but there was a more pressing matter.
The apartment door was closed, but unlocked. She didn’t remember checking it before she went to bed, but locking it was a habit, and she was sure she would have at least bolted it after Zeb and Coyote had left. She belted on a bath robe, stuck Zeb’s revolver inside it, and pattered down the hallway and down the stairs.
The building lobby was empty, thank God. She wasn’t sure what kind of explanation she could possibly have offered Mrs. Huston, but she knew that anything she could possibly shoot off the cuff would sound like a hasty lie, and hasty lies attract further attention. She tipto
The Medium - Bit 10Seven: Dream
The memory came again. He had begun to forget that she wasn’t real, but nothing else seemed real, either, so he could be excused for grabbing at one delusion among many. The ghost, though, was more real than anything else, and she did not react when the memory appeared, so it followed that the memory was probably not real.
“Rocky,” the memory said with a laugh. “You know, she’s going to keep calling you that if you don’t tell her your name.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed deeper beneath the blankets the wizard – Kim Reed – had left.
“Or perhaps you’ve decided you like it. Or...”
He imagined that he felt a phantom hand through the blankets.
“Or have you forgotten that, as well? Lover? Can you even remember my name?”
He dared to peer out from beneath his cover, and found that the memory had no face. She had the golden hair and a woman’s shape, but looking at her

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On my own apocalypse

:iconquiestinliteris:

If silk could melt
to drip down arms and goosebumped legs
in scarlet rivers, serpentine,
it seems only right
that the sky should burn as well.
Like roses heaped upon a stage,
cloaked in tumultuous applause,
the end will fall in exultation.
Shall we stand upon the shore
and taste the salt upon our lips,
basking in the last breezes
before the Breaking?
These last days are a ball,
a promenade of bliss,
sublime devastation,
a eulogy of memory.
Shiva, ever the gentleman,
asks for one last dance.

16,439

819 105 131
:iconquiestinliteris:

On my own apocalypseby =QuiEstInLiteris

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©2012-2013 =QuiEstInLiteris
Category: Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

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March 24, 2012
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:iconsaillytheshippy:
~saillytheshippy Apr 20, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
I love how the light sets her umbrella on fire and the overall composition. She is the center with waves or circular directions around her. Great work!
Reply
:iconrandomlyinspired-21:
Mood: Love !randomlyinspired-21 Apr 19, 2012  Student Writer
Just read it again! Still Beautiful from beginning to end. I'm still not tired from the words and the message!
Reply
:iconquiestinliteris:
=QuiEstInLiteris Apr 20, 2012  Professional Writer
:huggle: Aww, thanks.
Reply
:iconrandomlyinspired-21:
!randomlyinspired-21 Apr 20, 2012  Student Writer
No problem! Keep writing stuff like that! :D
Reply
:iconuska91:
~uska91 Apr 16, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
This is awesome!!
Reply
:iconquiestinliteris:
=QuiEstInLiteris Apr 17, 2012  Professional Writer
Aww, thank you!
Reply
:iconuska91:
~uska91 Apr 16, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
And you should write more like this, it's beautiful and the imagery is just plain awesome, just thinking of the sky burning but dancing with someone right as it all happens. Awesome!
Reply
:iconcuddleslut17:
~CuddleSlut17 Apr 14, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Danm you can write Wow this is absolutely beautiful. Thanks for the watch BTW.
Reply
:iconquiestinliteris:
=QuiEstInLiteris Apr 14, 2012  Professional Writer
Aww thank you! <3
And you're very welcome. :)
Reply
:iconladyofgaerdon:
=LadyofGaerdon Apr 13, 2012  Professional Writer
:wave: Hello! Your piece has been included in the :iconlit-visual-alliance: feature. Thank you for contributing your artwork and supporting the alliance! :salute:
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