Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Introduction to the dame:

I'd drowned her on first attempt
a comical disconnect,
over the murky river at full rush
sunken from argument
at a Sir’s hasty loss
but she'd sustained
and postponed regardless.

By concoctions I'd proceeded
severely-- a poisoner
improvising with a slumber draught
somberly love's last breathy bliss,
coordination to timed care
through his exceptional delivery
but the damn dame exists.

No watered lung nor al-
chemy has succeeded.

I'd increased the weather
with frozen conditions
slenderness could not withstand
elements penetration
though dually watched her pen
the relevance of blue limbs
and introspection
with insufferable deliverance!

What will it take, I barely
know. I know not at all.

By a black tree, I'd had her toil
with swollen and battered conclusion.
In the ground free of my gait,
I’d done her good service
out of carved poetry ingrained
to surround her sorrowed end
but I'd not gained
my singularity from the incident.

Nine lives must have this dame.



The battle of equals:

I question which of us
be the insane of the two
I, the solid body
or the dame that lives, still.

She's beheld two lovers
her heart thrived
and surpassed mine—
which inwardly recoiled
in reality's manner.

By the pond, with her two hands
she’d fetch them;
catfish dripping with water
soaked whiskers
and tightly clasped against her bosom.

There, they’d leave their marks
stretched out crossed sections.

A bare-faced and courageous
wanton whore!

It's she who's gone too far.
Farther than I.
The dame without inhibitions
or sense
in my opinion.


I, with my rejections,
insecurities, and binds.
She, with such confidence
honesty and pride.

Must I be more artificial
more fictitious?

I'd aspire to become,
if I could. Instead the craving
destroys all reason
and I marvel at the beast
devouring my influential core.

I'd not fought her much
for she's had impressive instincts
than I could muster up.

Complementary.

By the ninth, who'll maintain,
I or the dame?

Her, a worthy opponent,
methinks I’m under construction
with my isolation,
she'd only strengthened.

I'll oblige her in the end
to have say in our competition
or I’ve no choice, truly.

At times I have more confidence in her
than mine oneself.

Although, we've our disagreements.



The death of:

Tis the dame whom fought the Devil
talked to God
and broke her lights upon rocks
shattering all that mattered
before
what matters.

He'd restored her essence triumphantly
displaying lessons from the ladder
after I'd trifled heavily
with her life;
my humanly weak disregard
and I, the body am naught
but rubble and fodder!

I'm to be eaten by worms
and recommended environment to weed.
I'm the crust and decay,
she'll live! this dame.

I'll be but a gone voice
on a shredded paper.

A name, yes, I
the carrier of the name
but branded on stone over my grave;
Here lies but a girl
ordinary and plain,
dated, mossed and shallow.

I'll be the body without sight,
empty across the sheets
a cage only.
Those I know looking over my shell
thinking how odd I am
lifeless, without core
or breath or beat.

They’ll frighten that I'm but mere frame
and be sheepishly afraid to brush slight
whispers on my bloodless lips
a shiver to touch the fingers
fragile and paled
the creature unknown
but of identity prior


while she soars effortlessly
on, beyond
what I could ever attain
live, live will the dame.

P.S. Or wait I'll do this one, my lastest. It's not a new piece. I'll try to get writing this weekend. But, I'm still planning to work on this a bit.

nice sounding, unusual, but seems familiar.
a kind of lyrical flow that follows itself through
could find deeper meaning in demonstrations
of circular knowledge, yet the mind seeks
elsewhere...

we happen to find ourselves in silent perspective
wandering, parallel to ourselves, seeking time
like a touch, mirroring where language went.

Hello my dear Rabbit.
Thanks for joining me on this chore of a piece.
I find writing lyrical pretty easy for me so far. My challenges are many otherwise though. I'd recently learned to count, and began this with count in mind. But, once started it opened a different path, which put me dead in the end, not accomplishing much or what I'd set out to.

I'd like it to have more order I s'pose, it got chaotic on me.

could find deeper meaning in demonstrations
of circular knowledge, yet the mind seeks
elsewhere...

exactly. What have I done, and it's slightly frustrating.
But, I'm determined to keep plucking away at it, for it seems a great lesson to be learned within for me.

Edit to add~ I'm happy about part 1 and 3. But 2 lacks images and I think I'll revamp it.

I must confess
I know this dame well.

And I love this read very very much.
H

Much thanks for drowning in it with me Hester.
It still needs work, but I'm waiting on my emotions to line up
and the dame to get sassy with me. It'll get there eventually.