ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
He does not fight for the General barking orders,
Nor for the man in a suit, who sent him across borders...
In his pocket he keeps a single picture, a sole reminder
Like ancient scripture. A home he misses so endlessly,
Tirelessly calling out in his dreams at night. It is the last
That remains on his lips, with his finger pressed upon the trigger.
A single heartbeat, as he sights his enemy; A quiet prayer
To rest in peace. Yet soon it fades, as hope is fleeting;
For the little soldier boy, once marching home.
"Bottoms up buddy, I miss you..."
-Chen Yuan Wen, 18th October 2012
Nor for the man in a suit, who sent him across borders...
In his pocket he keeps a single picture, a sole reminder
Like ancient scripture. A home he misses so endlessly,
Tirelessly calling out in his dreams at night. It is the last
That remains on his lips, with his finger pressed upon the trigger.
A single heartbeat, as he sights his enemy; A quiet prayer
To rest in peace. Yet soon it fades, as hope is fleeting;
For the little soldier boy, once marching home.
"Bottoms up buddy, I miss you..."
-Chen Yuan Wen, 18th October 2012
Literature
The Little Girl Blinked
The little girl blinked and he was gone
Unsure if he was ever really there
But she knew that something had inspired her
To do things she wouldn’t normally dare
A teardrop too many he once told her
Had brought him from the shadows of her mind
As those around her began to wander
Across her imagination's fine line
But now he seemed to have walked away
As she found the life she had long sought
He slowly drifted back to the shadows
From her notebook and her beautiful thoughts
And the fools around her carried the spades
Burying him with her imagination
With an epitaph etched on a tombstone
‘Here lies my potential for creation’
Literature
Writers Block
There is a heart in a ribcage
And a brain sitting in a skull
There is a history that is void
And potential which is null
Just puddles of inspiration
Where the vast ocean once sprayed
An endless tide of moonshine
Swelled upon my parchment page
There's a brain sitting in a skull
There is a heart in a ribcage
There is ink in my fountain pen
But still no words on my page
Just embers of inspiration
Where a great fire once roared
I'll stoke it with those memories
I've been afraid of and ignored
Literature
She always fell for boys who needed saving.
She always fell for boys who needed saving.
Giving them kisses in the dark
to numb their headache from
drinking too much and yet
not enough to kill lust.
She was always adored by boys, who,
if given the chance, would rebuild
the world for her.
But she wanted to be the heroine
and refused to see
she needed saving, too.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
If liked this piece, please take a moment to fave it (^_^). Each faves let's me know that you liked the piece and it helps the piece get ranked for popularity :3
If you'd like to hear me read poems and do a little comedy live then then check out episode 3 of my live show here: [link]
Author's Comment:
Alright, so here's another Shot-Glass Poem for all of you. I tried a little something different, starting out with rhyme and then fading it out as the structure becomes free-verse before the final ending. I mean, it's nice to have rhymes throughout, or free throughout, but the mixed stuff can sometimes be better at carrying the emotions through. Rhymes to get the ball rolling and then the switch to keep the meaning serious.
That said, I hope you all enjoy this piece and please let me know if I managed to get the emotions right. I hope to perfect my shot-glass poetry technique.
That said, what inspired me was:
a) Avatar, The Last Airbender: i.e. Iroh's son (he sang a song for him I think it's also called Little Soldier boy, but I only used those three words xD)
b) My dear friend who has his birthday today. He often writes a few pieces on soldiers and combat and I wanted to do something similar for him. Happy birthday mate. If everyone else could, please wish him a happy birthday too ^^
-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates
P.S. Yes I'm writing a lot, got more birthdays to handle so you guys get more entertainment WHOO!
Other Poems by Me:
Other Literature by Me:
If you'd like to hear me read poems and do a little comedy live then then check out episode 3 of my live show here: [link]
Author's Comment:
Alright, so here's another Shot-Glass Poem for all of you. I tried a little something different, starting out with rhyme and then fading it out as the structure becomes free-verse before the final ending. I mean, it's nice to have rhymes throughout, or free throughout, but the mixed stuff can sometimes be better at carrying the emotions through. Rhymes to get the ball rolling and then the switch to keep the meaning serious.
That said, I hope you all enjoy this piece and please let me know if I managed to get the emotions right. I hope to perfect my shot-glass poetry technique.
That said, what inspired me was:
a) Avatar, The Last Airbender: i.e. Iroh's son (he sang a song for him I think it's also called Little Soldier boy, but I only used those three words xD)
b) My dear friend who has his birthday today. He often writes a few pieces on soldiers and combat and I wanted to do something similar for him. Happy birthday mate. If everyone else could, please wish him a happy birthday too ^^
-Captain Chenbeard of the Black Fedora Pirates
P.S. Yes I'm writing a lot, got more birthdays to handle so you guys get more entertainment WHOO!
Other Poems by Me:
I Comfort Myself With a warm drink, whispering secrets to my own reflection.
The struggles that plague me, though none may know,
Are only for the ears of my quiet mirror, who smiles
Softly, warmly and with care. He tells me, I'm fine
I've done well for now and soon I may finally rest.
Though the silence continues to press upon me,
Weighing upon my soul like an iron crate.
Still I find comfort in whispering secrets,
If only to my own reflection - holding a warm drink...
-Chen Yuan Wen, 17th October 2012
Yeah I'm Stupid! Yeah I'm Stupid!:
Indeed you are absolutely superior. A divine being, more intelligent,
Learned and completely right in everything you say about me.
However, if I might be permitted to — as they say in slang —
"Drop the beat", then I'd like to show you my own style of doing things.
Art thou ready for this my sibling from a different parent?
-
Sir can I have just a moment of your time? I think I lost
My will, let me sit and bust a rhyme — rappin' like I'm
Edgar Allan singin' Raven songs, thank god I have a
life and love that keeps me really strong. See I
Understand the fact that you may not like the things I do,
Str
Waking Nightmares Waking Nightmares:
It begins in the same way, every single night
Fire spreading from an altar in the darkness—
As all living beings are slowly consumed,
The coruscating flames appear wet with blood…
The scene then changes to a flooded hallway
Live wires dangling just above the water,
Like venomous serpents slithering in the darkness—
A single pounce would end my life…
Eventually the hallway ends with a door,
One that reminds me of forgotten yore—
And my thoughts shall be in rhyme at this point
As though lips and tongue are eternally joint…
What maddened schemes have they in mind?
It is not a questio
This is for the Reader This is for the Reader:
With the soft touch of his fingers
The piano begins to play, a heart untouched for so long
Bares its secret melody...
-
When I first started out I couldn't avoid just bein' cold
My life revolved the things that I was always told—
I never knew the warmth of standing up to take a bow
It was not a joy that I would ever-ever be allowed
Through all the days I feared that everything would disappear
You held me up and held me close like I was something dear
I never knew I had a part of me that you would like
I guess that's what you feel when you can't even see the light…
-
So this is the only way, that
Other Literature by Me:
Mercenary 1-1 MERCENARY
Chapter 1: Blood is Beauty
Release One: Pages 1 - 3
THE COLD AIR in Baron Rorke's study did little to calm his nerves. He was expecting visitors this night and they were not the best of company. A shiver of dread ran down his spine and he spent most of the twilight hours staring out of a large window which stood behind his writing desk. It was amazing, he felt, how quickly a man could become attached to a life of luxury; only to be made painfully aware of how easy it was to lose it. War was always a frightening thing, even more so when one had the knowledge and sense to realise that it was no longer an exercise of glory, but a si
© 2012 - 2024 WordOfChen
Comments126
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
War is not about killing whats in front of me, its about protect what i left behind.. Veteran.