Light Pouring From Within

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Light Pouring

Though Darkness Drinks Your Spirit In
Like Fine Wine,
Stealing it from Mine,
Listen not to the Soundless Din
Shaking You,
Breaking You;
Let not the latent Tyranny Begin,
Stand Tall,
Embracing All
The Light Pouring from Within.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Original Artwork by: faerienymph at deviantart.com

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O Speak- Sonnet XII

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O Speak

Speak in Terms my Heart Shall Hear,
O Speak, My Ever Loving Flame,
And I Shall Listen Through Eternal Years,
This Passion Unquenchable to Tame.
Speak in Whispers, Soft and Fine,
O Speak, Love, in Quiet Tones that Burn,
And I Shall Call Your Sweet Song, Mine,
Ever Enchanted, For Which I Yearn.
Your Voice Shall Heal my Lonely State,
Your Melodic Tone like Symphony,
And Like Blessed Music Which does not Abate,
I Shall Listen, Enthralled, While You Speak To Me.
Desiring Naught but Your Sweetest Tone,
I Desire it Far More in Togetherness, Alone.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Image found at: behance.net

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Danny’s Poetry: Haunted House

petitemagique

I got something special for you today! 🙂

My friends who are following me a bit longer already know that my love sometimes goes crazy and writes poetry as well.

(I love it when he does that, but he’s still convinced that he has a temporally brain failure when he writes something Lol)

Anyways, this is a poem of his hand, I hope you all like it as much as I do! 

O! And the artwork is his too! 🙂

You can find some other poems he wrote and the artwork he made on his page right HERE

Haunted House

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All the time

A Faded Romantic's Notebook

Art by Saliot

She has all the time in the world.

She can watch the seasons turn from green to gold to silver. And then be reborn. She can let the morning thicken into afternoon, dissolve into evening, blacken into night. Only to be illuminated again by day.

She can let the weeks spread themselves out as months and accumulate into years.

She can read her books, listen to her music, and smoke her weed. She can write her poetry and soften it with romance and lace it with a sweet, innocent desire.

She can see herself in the mirror and know that time will steadily improve her. She can smile as it moulds her lovely youth into elegant, compelling beauty.

She can dream and plan and hope and expect.

She is young

She has all the time in the world.

He does not.

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© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art…

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