The golden showers of spring rain crash over / The shimmering cool blue life waters / And fall down on the fine white marble cliff face. / T…
Just a poem I wrote describing a girl I like. We had studied Romanticism in English, so it goes along with that theme.
We’re running out of sunsets / I don’t know if it’s the environmental crisis / Or if they’ve just given up / But their time is short / I kn…
A pretty thing you are to me, / more beautiful than blossom tree. / Happy and jovial you make me grin, / with you in my life I always win. / ...
Fire licks, / And lightning whips, / Dissolution rises, / And macabre quips.
This poem is part one of a trilogy of poems that inspired my drawing “Diabolus Est Mi Amor (Death is my love)”. The story about a human woman stolen and romanced by a devil’s black heart. Paramour is from her point of view.
High one, / Red death, / Shining to destroy, / My very last breath.
Part 2 in the trilogy of poems that inspired the drawing Diabolus Est Mei Amor. I originally wrote this poem in English and Latin, to grab the effect of what language this devil would speak, but I only keep the Latin version for my own amusement. Votum is written also from the woman’s point of view. Though, in this poem she is admiring him, worshiping him, and ultimately falling in love with him. She is begging, needing, and hoping that he has at least some small ability to love. The anti-heroine, at this point is mad with lust and want. She can think of nothing but him.
Ravenous gluttony, / Quenching seclusion, / White lily, / Light illusion.
Part 3 of the trilogy of poems inspiring Diabolus Est Mei Amor. Inamorata is from Diabolus’ point of view. This poem speaks of passion, thirst, and forbidden fruit. He admires her for being human, for being flawed. Her very scent drives him to insanity. He exclaims his desire, and tells us that he’s fallen for her, abandoning himself. It is admitted that yes he can love. This one individual has the power to bring him to his knees. As she is his slave, he is hers.
How I hate falling in love.
Old poetry back in seventh grade when I was infatuated with a certain friend of mine.
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