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Id like to tell a storyI'd Like To Tell a Story...
I'd like to tell a story
About someone I used to know.
Just a little something
That happened long ago.
It's not something of legend
Or of greek mythology
But just a sad little tale
Kept in my memory.
The first thing I remember
Are her brilliant green eyes
And the way they used to shine
Even on the dullest of nights.
Then there's her firey hair
That cascaded into curls.
And her snowy face and freckled cheeks...
She was a very pretty girl.
But sadly she didn't think so
Due to the words which others said.
The evil comments and snide remarks
Soon polluted the poor girl's head.
Days went by and it grew worse
I'd find bruises on her skin.
She'd cry when I'd confront her
And she'd say it was nothing.
Her chair at school stayed empty
For days and weeks on end
She'd stay at home, all alone
And pray her heart would mend.
Then one day I got a phonecall
It was her mother on the line.
"I've got something to tell you..."
And then she began to cry.
You see pe
BurnThere's a burning flame inside my heart
That no one can put out
And as I venture through the dark
He'll penetrate the doubt
Cold cant touch me, I'll say that now
His warmth gives me that power
To those who are lost in cold and dark,
I'll be a shining tower
If a lighthouse stands to light the way,
God, help me to shine true
I swear through even the darkest night
I'll light the way for you!
A burning, burning, fire inside
I just want you to see
The warmest love He'll give to you,
The same He gave to me!
Music is...Music is my other voice.
It speaks my feelings for me
And helps me express myself
In ways I can't
Music is like my photo album.
When you re-listen to old songs
The memories you had before,
flood into your mind.
Music is my medicine.
When I feel down or broken
The melodies push away
all the negative thoughts
and gradually carry
all my pieces together again.
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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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