red and orange
Hair of blue and green
Ball gowns twirled all around.
Many of the ruffled outfits,
Twisting and turning,
Created a sea and fire:
Flames and an Ocean.
It snaked close and closer.
The middle, they came.
There was a mint and death.
Goddess and God.
Glares spiraled their way,
Humans became monsters,
Rainbow eyes all became black,
Some even blood red.
Minds deluded by hate,
Eyes covered in greed,
Hearts taken to dark,
Nothing was right.
A glance behind him,
A glare past her,
The slowly came in,
Breaking the little calm.
The circles lashed out,
It was her power,
His amplification,
When all monsters fainted.
"Thanks for the boost."
She smiled and ran.
"The usual spot."
He left, quite cocky in tone.
They met again in dark,
The roofs of Venice,
A full moon glittered,
Rose bushes visible.
She smiled with kindness,
That same smile from past,
He bowed his head,
That bow to be polite.
Among that rooftop line,
The two waltzed again.
She laughed happily,
He chuckled and closed his eyes.
A God of Death and War,
The Goddess of Honesty and Wit.
He bowed at the end.
"Meet me again some time.
She departed.
He had vanished.
Tears gleamed on her face.
Blood ran off his wrist.
"I'll never forget."
"I'll always remember."
"The devil may cry."
"The Goddess shall die."
Ode for You
Brown hair rode the wind,
Amber eyes glistened with light.
You heart was pure.
My heart was dark.
Looking in your gems of eyes,
I could almost see a Light.
Entranced, a tear rolled down,
Your pale, cloth skin,
Soft and smooth, no blemishes.
How can you smile so sad?
Another day became today,
I still didn't finish.
That old drawing of you,
I just can't do you justice,
I cannot match up for you.
It pains me to think that.
The last day, you were beautiful;
You had matched wonderful,
Vibrant, brilliant colors.
That day is gone, I live on.
Poetry
What is poetry?
To me, poetry is
a style of writing;
A way to express feelings,
A type of beauty.
What is poetry?
To me, poetry is
The colors of the wind,
The outline of pieces,
The flour of the bread.
What is poetry?
To me, poetry is
pencils to the paper;
paint to the brush;
salt to the pepper.
What is poetry?
To me, poetry is
emotions,
words,
meanings.
What is poetry?
To me, poetry is
Stanzas with meaning,
Lines with phrases,
But mostly, it is my heart.
Cold Water
He sees me and he thinks of a damned life.
She sees me and she thinks of a ruined soul.
You see me but there's nothing.
A web of love and all you get in return is nothing.
A posted picture and people call you cute.
A whole conversation and people call you drama-addict.
I wade in cold water,
So cold it's almost ice,
But that's okay since I'm apparently not nice.
I wade in cold water,
Like the Ninth Ring of Hell,
But that's okay because that's where I belong.
Memories shatter,
Painful times patter,
But the only thing I fear
Is being loved.
Loved by the ones I hurt,
Loved by the ones that hurt me.
I wade in cold water,
So cold it's almost ice,
But that's okay since I'm apparently not nice.
I wade in cold water,
Inside the Ninth Ring of Hell,
But that's okay because that's where I belong.
An empty shell waits.
It's trial time and she steps forward.
The silvery shackles clinging to her.
Solemn, dead, grey eyes look up as she hears the judging,
Then off she goes,
Down to hell.
I Want
I want to…
There are many ways to end this portion of a phrase.
I want to have fun.
I want to live.
I want to drink.
I want to get intimate.
I want to eat.
Of course, those are positive ways.
What I’m focused on are the negative ways.
The ways a good percentage of our population thinks in.
I want to die.
I want to scream.
I want to cry.
I want to be alone.
I want to be beautiful.
I want to be just a dream.
Thinking
Thinking is an unhealthy thing
Think too long and you eventually lose yourself
But,
Saying that,
I was thinking recently…
Am I part of a Neo-Lost Generation?
Or am I a continuation?
Should there be a new label?
Why was there a label in the first place?
Purity Ring
The ring that binds you
It holds you close to your love
But tears you away from life
I t ’ s a d a r k f e e l i n g
You just know someone loves you
But you feel like you are meaningless
It isn’t until you put it on…
The cold band on your finger
That you realize
There’s a point
Being
Running
Falling
All that is left
Is darkness
All that makes it
Is unreachable
No hope
No saviour
No life
No emotion
No composition
Nothing
The still of the emptiness
It pulls and pleads
With lack of pride
Giving in and leaving
Only a corpse
Taking the mourners along
Oppose
Darning
Adorning
Calling
Ignoring
Showering
Rejecting
Sound
Motion
Connecting
Concealing
Swimming
Singing
Smiling
Forgetting
PHYSICAL
MENTAL
Twelve
Voices
Limbs
Mistake
Colour
Impulse
Blood
Vision
Luck
Strength
Control
Despair
Princess
Simplicity
Master
Wise
Controlled
Darkened
Blackmail
Slept
nani mo
utrymme
aer
mraz
terre
illyuzia
lune
fuego
tubig
timi
hua
jeongi
luce
padrobka
Seasonal
A cold winter's night
The warm summer day
A midafternoon feast in autumn
The springtime party
Life
No love
No emotion
Darkness in light
Happiness in darkness
A reject
Welcome to the world
Full of darkness
Verses with emotions
Chorus of tragedy
And the everlasting sound of
Well
Despair
The Author [And her notes]
Danielle Wertz is a teen who loves to write, draw, and read. Even though she's young, she had an early interest in publishing and in writing novels. Fascinated by animals at a young age, she worked her way through to becoming involved in video gaming and visual art.
Visit her blog: https://thisdanisgottaflyy.tumblr.com/
Like her page on Facebook: https://facebook.com/daniskiesqueenofall
Author’s Notes:
Upcoming Reads
Unspoken Truths
If Ever In Chaos
Separate Yourself