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Literature
Update! 01 December 2014
I've been gone since August.
Why?
I'm writing a book. It's... a big book.
Love you guys. Stay creative.
Toodles.
~Sage L. (VeiledPoet)
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Literature
A Loneliest Way
6 a.m., a time where I belong cocooned, caped in a bed comforter amidst vacancy. The home is quite aged for the neighborhood. Morning fog, the cloud farce. Visible proximity is twenty meters. Farther out is an artist’s favorite flavor of canvas: blankness. The sun is but a luminous speck of white, like a flashlight under covers.
A rat ahead scurries from a rusty gutter, and if were me, that rat, the world would be comfortable among darkness and scrap. The streetlight bronze measures my shadow meters longer than factual, my ears under an in-town railroad bridge; I am further from a lamp now. This neighborhood is made of brick and, rising from untilled grass, appears as nether-squares. Shaken are the doors of elder homes. The paint had peeled like the boils of smallpox, their porches creaking and missing planks.
While my heels are aching damp, clapping the beige sidewalk, I muse over my steps. Clapping soles. Solitudinous rhythm. No one outside to hear it, shame be that. Riven by t
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Literature
A Library Should
Help support the price tag.
A telepath’s wish kindles in bone.
Sale the Dragon kindred reads a story all alone.
The aisles, misty forlorn
aisles--shelve they forgotten tome--grow
their own economy on a coin currency stone.
The printing press of paper
spruces up the orphan wood.
Books never adopted, a library should.
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Literature
Felicity
She rested
nestled upon bed peaches tinctured
with feather fleece cover; aroused her charmingly
the swan youth who dove.
Do covet lightning hair-streams a feminine kiss,
zipping electric neon blue strands charging fleece.
Oral pearls’ luster elucidates forth
in service to gaiety.
The bed-ship sways, lady navigating an atlas female.
Brunette in repose dips her brow to vanilla neck,
source of blueberry skin aroma.
Her braids swivel caressed by the ingenious
touch of her mate.
Vision fields finally interlock;
unified eyes frolic iris meadows.
As lilac buds blossom also lips gentle brush,
casting a cerise flair of blush.
Felicity, as well a sapphic love.
 
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Literature
I Tie Love to a Lion's Balloon
I tie love to a lion’s balloon.
A salon rinses curls that soak and shake away the
scents of other girls.
Wrung-out bonnet of acacia shampoo.
A boutique is our zeitgeist.
Flow.
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Literature
Thalia Italia
Why, audience, throw tomatoes at tragic plays for being tragedies?
Life is tragic; eat them during a comedy.

To tragedy she tends to tease.
Thalia Italia,
Talented intrinsic comedy release.
Acts antecedent made lacrimal the coterie
underneath such secretion manifest vineal priests.
Such vineal priests.
At branches’ ends tomatoes worship pendulous
swaying neatly neat.
Cleavers axe their thorny stems.
The atheist coterie, now above their seats
aim savagely tomatoes to the sad stage beneath.
There then seen is Thalia, comic masque in hand,
playing her funny bugle! The ivy, a fragrant snake at her command,
slithers about her feet as they skip,
leaping to actors dead.
She knows them dead;
with laughter-filled persuasion she causes them to stand!
Holding hands in merriment the cast in circles leap
like the muse of idylls delights.
Frowns into smiles form and keep;
Death atop his darkest horse removed.
The audience, although jubilant, continues to weep.
Lovers out of script reuni
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Literature
Before Partisan Steps
Hungarian Jew Alexander White
witnessed plights antisemitic, doom’s insult chaperoned handily under Hitler’s
Iron Cross.
His heartbeat resolute,
below White watched a Budapest cinema
light.
SS officers flittered boots, flooded the movie house as would bewildered
animals, arresting age fifteen Alexander;
as Fuhrer claims, “The problem at its root.”
A Serbian copper mine to White sent work,
awarded no serenity in time.
He told another prisoner, “For food, my coat is yours,”
afterward flying from the fences!
Sooner gunfire heard his task to endure.
There down a daedalian river
protrude peaches
parallel to a chapeau cap
besieged by water’s curtsy: a cap diversion onto stalker dogs.
Halt, you canine Nazi!
Into mountains White escaped,
trekking aimlessly dirt distances.
Dead leaves would not bind his movement.
And at last, when tired knees he grew
stifled every step,
Yugoslavian Partisans were to adopt another suffering man’s
nearly deceased st
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Literature
The Flamingo Poet
Everyone uses spoons in the morning.
I’ve a fork stirrin’ my tea
served with worry in a pink cup
coverin’ pusillanimously.
Flamingo porcelain aviate
my tea in crooked wing.
Feathers rattle & quiver. Wrist riots,
I shiver, spill tea on fingers
fashionin’ four searing rings.
Invited calm sips incinerate lips,
my tongue tolerates a singe.
Steam pinkish pipes a voiceless misery binge;
poetry, a flamingo by the fringe.
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Literature
Acta Diurna VII
Morning, stilled in a grey photo.
I am a mineral speck in slate mountains flanked by the salmon halo of Lady Gaia.
I left and pondered all the pictures I could capture.
Camera remained on the dresser.
Why do we share photographs?
Memory mustn't be pleasing seemingly.
Humans share photographs likely to convey messages of emotion,
or to detail without word.
Some share only to express their ability to steal the moment like a firefly in a jar
when the flash is on.
And some want for others to know where they were.
“Glory to the setting of man.”
Indeed, glory to the setting of man.
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Literature
Acta Diurna III
Handed out paper today.
“Should thee accept, smile.”
Should incite curiosity and sense of appreciation, no matter how subliminal.
Grey to be closely achieved.
May also flatten soul soda, leading to self-equilibrium of the mind.
...should not eat anymore root beer candies.
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Literature
Acta Diurna II
Consuming root beer hard candy after lacrosse game,
A&W's effort to make sudsy my flattened demeanor.
Found fly in my locker, dead.
I wondered what killed him.
Memorial service?
Inevitable.
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Literature
Wonder
If by “wonder” you allude
to the hotel corridor
(on the ninth floor, I’m certain),
I call it
rude character.
Sure, these auburn light fixtures
shone much more than the
pictures,
portraits of the nude
giving carpets glorious view.
No cigar scent, perfume incense
intruding on effervescent
sugar packets pouring Kit-Kat
coffee in the morning,
or a
fleur-de-lis tapestry
could reunite my “wonder”
at my love’s lost and
ever-rested
key.
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Literature
Inanima
Maiden, for I am worthless,
Inspirit in this vessel some anonymity.
In spirit.
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Literature
Ancestors Enduring
Genocide to earth has laid
a memory forgotten, made
a bone in daughter, under mother,
who wonders where of great grandfather.
Narrow, marrow paths and careless water bodies:
It is and is it not the Turkish oddity;
do they love their children? Obviously.
“Oddly”, said Assyrians, the Pontic Greeks and Armenians.
Red run do the veins of Euxine soil,
box-cars to toil, and the marching lane
(A rusty coil).
A
clever-made diaspora,
A cough only in asthma.
Has genocide, an ethicality declined?
Precisely,
without question.
Mainly mentioned: the victimized in line.
Tarry to be trudging the Armenians, they do,
and vivid in detail do they agree:
the human model, thin, emaciated skeletal
scene is obscene
And in our own day, real memory.
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Literature
Who After All
Istanbul is an empire;
animated pyre by they austere Turks made
the menial Armenia.
“Heraldic harmony” be hailed
as asceticism inverted,
virgin is curtailed her court.
And Seljuks laugh.
Where municipal convent is an invitation
to tame a docile lion,
Armenia speaks to the deaf whip;
the instructor no different.
The k'anon courses tremble in tremolo.
Twist rivers their necks
drowning in a sorrow deluge.
Wheat is cursed its color
and by marching hovers
off.
Turkish mother folds the facet;
“Remember”, daughters listen,
“Your father”.
Hair that tacit curls, and glistens.
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Literature
Back to You
To walk home from the park,
Donna Jess approached a hot dog vendor.
"Six o'clock, I'll be back!"
Till then Donna Jess was slender.
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VeiledPoet
Sage
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
My name is Sage and I am a poet!

I came to DeviantArt in order to showcase any poems or literature I come up with. I also create graphic images; I'll try to get those on here as well. I aim to give you:

-Thoughts and different perspectives on things
-Amusement and entertainment

I hope you enjoy!

Favourite genre of music: Anything, really
Favourite style of art: I tend to love abstract/surreal artwork
Personal Quote: "Tempore, Veniet"--myself
Interests

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:iconbramleegwater:
BramLeegwater Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2014   Digital Artist
Thanks a lot for the watch and the favs! Much appreciated!:D
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:iconbeyondjen:
BeyondJen Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks so much for faving 'Seam Stress.' :glomp:

(Apologies for being so late in thanking you.) :oops:
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:iconveiledpoet:
VeiledPoet Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for writing the piece.
It helped motivate me to light a candle-bomb on the love cake.
Of metaphysical taste, I mean.

Thank you.:squee: 
Reply
:iconbeyondjen:
BeyondJen Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Wow. That's really great to hear. I'm really happy to hear you connected with it so much. :hug:
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:iconoaklungs:
oaklungs Featured By Owner Nov 19, 2013
thank you very much for the favourite :heart:
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:iconsilverinkblot:
SilverInkblot Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for faving You can't have it all :)
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:iconssensory:
ssensory Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2013   Writer
Thank you so much for the faves!!
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:iconblakecurran:
BlakeCurran Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2013  Student Writer
Thanks for the fave! :hug:
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:iconshadowedacolyte:
ShadowedAcolyte Featured By Owner Sep 12, 2013
Thanks for the recent fav. I really appreciate it!
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:iconrnpcarter:
rnpcarter Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave! :D
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