Evanescent Melody

Show Navigation

(via iwant-tobelieve)

Biting’s excellent. It’s like kissing only there’s a winner.

The Tardis (The Doctor’s Wife)

1 year ago -

13

black-and-white:

look at this… (by hikarusan pray for Japan)

black-and-white:

look at this… (by hikarusan pray for Japan)

entrappedthoughts-deactivated20 asked: Thanks for the follow!
I think your writing is brilliant

Thanks! I love your haikus, especially Billowing curtains/Veil the war outside, but what/Of the one in here?

black-and-white:

not her birthday | by Wishmistress

black-and-white:

not her birthday | by Wishmistress

Dreams

I long for days of being held, by velvet textured hands

That have forgotten, for once,

Notions of hiding under cloaks of white-wondered

Blind sincerity;

Softly puttering thoughts being

Rubbed into creation,

When your shoulder blade has not

Been sharpened and bites my

Gnawing teeth; and I will ignore

The devious drawings you tattooed onto my brain.

(via of-mice-deactivated20110916)

Gone

Wistful eyes woefully watched

Me in the shades of snow,

Listening with one ear to my mouth, and the other

To crazed thoughts.

Still yet as spring fervor aproached

The furrows in your frown

And the brambles of what you wanted stayed.

I hugged myself and said, in

the sweltering exhaustion

“I’ll be alright without you.”

But as the heat of July swept us away,

Our broken

Plans remain unswept.

vichhika:

ephemeraa: Mad World 2 190x190cm 2010 oil on canvas (by peihang)

ephemeraa: Mad World 2 190x190cm 2010 oil on canvas (by peihang)

For You

While the moonlit rain

Strangles the earth—

remember all I wanted

Was the nothingness of a damp

Dew-stricken dry crinkly flower;

Facade of perfection; exhausted beauty—

Please remember in your feathered anger,

I did it to show you.

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger’d, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.

1 year ago

Bread Dough

Powdery flour dusts the air,
In an upheaval of confusion,
As I push the soft, flexible
Dough that bends to my hands—
Push, fold, turn—
Sticky dough collecting on
Fingertips, never letting
Go completely.

Apple

Tangy crunchy thin red skin
Falls off the apple in my mouth as my teeth
Accidentally scrape the bruised brown pieces,
Biting the big chunks that break easily off the core.
Dully sweet flavor brushes my taste buds and as
Freshness clears my thoughts of stress and guilt,
I begin to think how much I miss the ease of being young.

I’m making a sort of poetry challenge (well, not a challenge, but a task) for myself this week: write a descriptive poem (of an object, or mini experience) every day for the next week.

(via anditmakesmehappyy)