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*Mars*Travelling fast, speed of light
Course is plotted, Mars tonight
Red planet sojourn far from home
Travelling apace, on my own.

Phobos and Deimos moons of Mars
Orbit faithfully among the stars
Atmosphere pink, particles of dust
Light years from earth, visit a must.

Imagination will take you there
Just sit comfortably in your chair
Close your eyes, let thoughts run free
Will meet on Mars, half-past three.

2012 Delice1941
11th December2012

City DaydreamsI chase cigarette scented wolves
with eyes of vivid skies
where the concrete flowers bloom
under electric lines of sound,
and we inject ink into thought
to drive away the nightmares
while searching for lucidity
in the careful lines of a photograph.

Clockwork WhoreA gentle ticking was the only sound that night.

Paris is not as beautiful as they say – for the most part the city is dirty, dishevelled and infected. The tourists are constricted to the beautiful sections, the sections where the rich and powerful live and the money gets spent. Walk less than a mile from this small circle of wealth and you encounter the forgotten Parisians – the prostitutes and the beggars, the hungry and the homeless, the true citizens of Paris.

But on that night, it is through these back streets and alleyways that we must venture. Walking between two dilapidated buildings that sag dangerously is the Vicomte de

Submerge, Emerge.All my life, wading, wading.
Shallow water spreads
Warmth between my toes.
Current sensed within.
All my life, waiting, waiting,
Waiting to go in.

All these years trying, trying
To show what flows through me.
Tantalizing lure..
Infinity innate..
All these years, dying, dying,
Dying to create.

All this time, filling, filling..
No way to release.
Skin cracks from tension
Of everything unshown.
All this time, feeling, feeling,
Feeling overflown.

Collect my thoughts.
Take steady steps.
Down down, until I am submerged.
What I see here,
Is crystal clear:
A way to let myself emerge.

What I see here,
Is crystal clear:
A way to let myself emerg

FallingLight is deceiving,
Its trickery fooling the weak.
Darkness is honest.
We know what lies there hidden,
The soft voices feeding us
Sweet nectar laced with poison.

Demons and monsters...
At least they tell us they're there.
At least we know their intentions.
We assume light is pure.
Light allows these assumptions
And they hide their true evil.

Souls contain light.
That is why we humans are truly cruel.
Why we can fall into the dark sea.
Without that light...
Perhaps we would be pure.
Perhaps we wouldn't feel so much.

Here I speak
And here you listen,
Servant of darkness and mine own light.
What laughter at my words ring through your foul min

In A Forest DarkGliding in sable forests I stalk,
Upon cracking sticks and velvet soil,
I sail onwards under my fearless walk.
Never knowing how lost I have become,
Grasping arms entrap me in their horrendous home.

Wandering in dark woods I muse,
Along rushing streams and chaotic moss,
I'll be given a simple choice but I will refuse.
To continue onwards to the lair of death,
Weeping stares will consume my beastly breath.

Stumbling in black trees I trek,
Across waiting stones and fragile twigs,
I journey further until I reach a ghostly wreck.
In an oasis of green flourishing in a placid scene,
Studying acutely it's image of an object obscene.

Rest, Nowby Dolan Grey

I.
The mist of the mountains
Like the breath of a giant
Soft, as if sleeping
Cool this time of year
Settles in around me
Damp and grey
The air is murky
I begin to feel alone.

II.
Darkness comes quickly
The sun is saying goodnight
Over the tops of the peaks
And leaving in a hurry
He is my friend, the sun
Stretching his arms out to warm me
But betraying me at last
Leaving me to the murky gloom.

III.
It is midnight when I hear it
Quiet, at first
Almost like a secret
Then louder, forgetting stillness
Beautiful, like a hundred harps
And wretched, like a dying thing
The sweet melody shatters my soul
And I know it is for me.

IV.
W

Quick-Fingered Josephjoseph is the boy with ripple-crested fingers; fingers so deft that i have watched him pluck a hummingbird out of the air, mid-flight. he carved the deepest of those lines himself, leaving me little else save the pleasure of guiding his fingers with my shallow lips. i took what he offered and stole the rest; to this day i have his discarded bone-shards hidden within the smallest recess of my clavicle.

SlowSo little left to hold on to
I'm falling deep
Deeper deepening.

But it's calming
And my heart beats slow
Slowly slower.

I feel my eyes slide shut
And my vision goes black
Blacker blackest.

My senses fade
And I become empty
Emptier emptiness.

Diagnosis IIThe diagnosis:
Metereological maladies, the bad taste in your mouth
From the presence of my doorframe.
The words that burn my irises cold
And the residual sentiments of self-loathing
Brought on by a secondhand hemorrhaging
Of compassion and selflessness.
Her hand broke my wrist,
The dawn broke on her cluttered room.
I've faced my demons on a daily basis,
Possible allergic reaction
Resulting in unstable perception of existence.
Buried word asphyxiation.
The cure:
The door's always been open,
But not for me to step through,
For me to point the way.
A little less poison in my coffee,
A little less venom in my e

NativesDozens of pairs of eyes peered through the thick vegetation.
He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. They were always there, one step ahead. No matter what the military did, no matter how secretive their plans, no matter how sophisticated their maneuvers, no matter how hard they fought, the natives were always there. Always there with their guerilla warfare in the form of machetes and arrows and bombs made with all-natural ingredients. Always watching, always ready.
He glanced away from the bushes at the edge of the clearing and tried to focus on the plan his commanding officer was outlining to his squad. But just as in rea

Light in the Darkness

The books were piled high on the desk, tucked deep in the recesses of the Archive's library. There were no candles allowed this close to such precious works, so the words had to be revealed with a special light. It was a small glass ball, emanating a honeyed glow like that of a candle. Muted, small, and unobtrusive. This light didn't flicker.

One of the students, an Apprentice, dropped another arm-load of books on his desk. The impact sent up a plume of dust that had settled on the shelf nearby. He destroyed the sanctum silence with a fit of coughing. A murmured curse and he claimed a seat, pulling open a weathered book. Strangely, the cove

Reflections of the Sea (pt.1 ch.1)One

The skies cast their reflections upon the sea. A vast, blue expanse stretches across the horizon, its surface tinged in moonlight. Enrobed in silver hues, a crystalline film covers the expanse. Shadows of stars appear upon the ocean’s surface; their lights quiver amidst the tides, and the heavens vibrate in the sea's undulations. The tides are incredibly serene tonight; and all movement within the water is seemingly birthed only by rain falling gently onto its surface. A beautiful reflection of the world has been cast before me.

I had been resting amidst the shores since the break of morrow. Today, time seemed brief, and da

LighthouseSailing through darkness.
There was little I could see.
I was lost,
trying desperately to find something.
Anything.
A flash of light brought hope.
It pierced the black velvet night,
gave me a sweet breath of life.
Brought me out of the depths of despair.
Then it was gone.
My eyes can see even less now.
The flower of hope withers away.
I don't search anymore.
I don't want light if it brings that much pain.
At least the darkness won't lie to me.

I am meI look in the mirror and see my on reflection
I start to wonder, am I not only a projection?
But if I would be one, my life would be a lie
"But I'm not a lie! I'm not!" that's what I sigh
I remember all the happy moments in life
I remember the sadness and the strife
This though is a proove that I'm me
And accepting that is the only key
To get stronger and to walk along
the lonely road to where I belong
I'm proud, that I am me
And I am also proud to be
A living being, the person that I am
I will show everyone, I will show them
I am me and I'm proud of that
And not only some kind of brat

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Insomnia's ThoughtsI.
The tales have been written on neglected pages,
and keys untouched by the unwritten ages.
My song has been sung for the world to tell
and yet my own rest has become my own hell.

Insomnia the home for the weary and lost,
whores and beggars come for no little cost.
My soul has been reaped as the last apple falls,
the last shred of beauty in these once great halls.

The waters are filthied with the sins of the raven
and great Eden fell from its grace as a haven.
I'll burn the world for one last soft lullaby,
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Muse

by ~Scarlet-Lark, Jan 31, 2013, 3:57:25 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

She twisted like vines
in a forest of darkness
while the moon shone
and the shadows danced.

Her color was crimson
and white virgin snow.
Where the two entwined,
I kissed the invisible seam.

The ravens were her hair,
sculpted from the night;
and the ocean her eyes
into which I could flee.

She fell through lines
and tumbled with ink.
She stained the winter black
while the sky shone white.

Nameless she wandered
across celestial seas,
and silent she sang
to the souls in mourning.

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Museby ~Scarlet-Lark

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I am ever tied to a romance of muses.

This was featured as a Lit. Daily Pick by

. Thank you so much, I am happy whenever someone enjoys my work.

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Submitted on: January 31
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Mood: Love

~Elskerr Feb 13, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

This is gorgeous, I am actually picturing this girl so clearly

This is so beautiful, and very mystical. Wonderful job, I'm totally moved by it

Reply

~Scarlet-Lark Feb 14, 2013 Student General Artist

Thank you very much.

Reply

~Zireael07 Feb 11, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

This is brilliant!

Reply

~Scarlet-Lark Feb 11, 2013 Student General Artist

Thanks!

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~GABanks118 Feb 7, 2013 Student Writer

This is some of the best poetic imagery I have seen in a really long time. I'm biased in favor of rhyming poems and this is still one of my favorites now.

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~Scarlet-Lark Feb 7, 2013 Student General Artist

Wow, thank you for the lovely comment!

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Mood: Mesmerized

~DeathNoteGrrrrrrrL Feb 5, 2013

Oh my God... that is unbelievably beautiful and haunting.

Reply

~Scarlet-Lark Feb 5, 2013 Student General Artist

Thank you very much.

Reply

~DeathNoteGrrrrrrrL Feb 5, 2013

You are very welcome.

Reply

~HauntingLogistics Feb 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Wow, this is awesome!

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