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Inferno: Old English PoemO’ hear the whispers beyond ye graveyard dirt.
Expunge the chunks of coal in thy heart; leave unhurt.
Release the fire dancin’ across thy fingertips.
Speak to the forgotten till time rips.
In the blazing garden you have both cried.
Her last words of love have not died.
She didn’t leave without a memory of you.
All rumors are untrue.
O’ hear the whispers beyond ye graveyard dirt.
Rows of tombs engirt.
Murmur the poetry of her past.
Let these kindled red roses not be the last.
EXAMINEDThe infinite cold slimy white walls
The abominable biting chill of the enraged…dastardly winds
Giant hawkish beings giving out orders
You’re now awakened
You’re now opening your eyes
Everyone surrounding you looks the same
A secretive journal is the only thing saving you from the insane
From a routine that never stops
Night after night you hear when the facility door locks
Gradually counting the days off to be hopeful
But it’s not enough
There is an ancient brass horn trumpeting tunes of everyone’s sorrow
Proving your creative mind is blocked in this world
Blocked by complicated dark clouds of pure cruelty
And once you return to the familiar old things…
You rummage through a little cardboard box for an old-multi-colored scrapbook
Filled with memories of the past
Noticing that face in the photograph
It can’t be me…
The Parlour IncidentOne day in July, I believe it was, I found myself sitting with several acquaintances in Christopher's parlour. It was one of those deliciously lazy afternoons which only the summer in her full glory can bring. The room had a wan, listless light to it, relaxing the other guests and myself as we languidly chatted over tea and crumpets. The air was also sluggishly heavy, dulling the senses to a slowly-blended calm engendered by the heat of St. Othniel's southerly climate.
At length, after much stimulating conversation, Christopher stood, producing a book of sheet music.
"What do you all say to a bit of music?" he asked.
"Certainly," I answered.
"Oh yes, please do darling!" Tabitha exclaimed, "he's quite the maestro."
Christopher laughed, shaking his head.
"Now, now love, I'd not go that far."
He strode over to the piano as the other guests urged him on. Ida entered the room bearing a merrily steaming teapot and more crumpets.
"More tea sirs?" she inquired, shooting sideways glances at her
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More