Darkest Corners LIT 10- Spiritual Poetry

Apr 22, 201121 min read

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Published: Apr 22, 2011

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Darkest Corners LIT

Darkest Corners Lit is a montly article that aims to place lesser known corners of the Literature section into the spotlights. In this article, you will find features of Spiritual Poetry, as well as groups, contests and other news related to this style. This theme was suggested by TheseKrimzonFlames.

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The theme of 2011's May issue will be Scripts and Screen Plays, as suggested by medreaming.

If you have anything to contribute to this issue, please let us know.

We're looking for deviations, groups contests and projects, or even resources and external websites
related to Scripts and Screen Plays in particular. Send me a note!

If you have an idea for a theme of a next issue, please note us!

We need your suggestions, as we're sure there are many corners we're not familiar with.

Features

Thanks a lot to all of you for sharing your work with us!

The Angel - PoemWith open heart,
And dreamy eyes,
This angel wears,
No real disguise.
Her wings are missing,
-I wonder why?-
I guess she fell,
Down from the sky.
But a miracle,
She is no less,
Save us from sins,
We've all been blessed.
She walks barefoot,
On the sand and stone,
And shows us that,
We're not alone.
Scars marr the skin,
of her wrists and arms,
Our scars carried away,
As she saves us from harm.
Inky bruises stain,
Her elegant figure,
Where she fought to take,
Our finger from the trigger.
Redemption for all,
From the hell that we made;
And I ask myself if,
We deserve to be saved. Free. To. Soar.A single light-- illuminates
Shadows dance like marionettes
Across miles of skin
Vapor floats through a lonely light beam
The air saturated with
Tranquil exhales
Eyes on fire--Breaths intertwined
Toes curl under sheets of cotton
Body. Mind.
Move. Think.
Free. To. Soar.
:thumb204708078: BubblesA little child sits on the beach in the late evening light
He is curiously alone, without his mother in sight
The wind blows his golden curls to and fro
And he has a wise expression, as if there's something good he knows
He holds in his hand, a little wand, glistening in the sun's dying rays
From it he blows bubbles, he watches silently as they float away
They all pop, one after another, on the dry grainy sand
But the child continues to replace them with a calm, steady hand
Here on the beach sits a cat, watching with apprehensive eyes
The little child doesn't mind him even as he spies
The cat stalks up to the child, watching the bubbles meet their death
"What are you doing, my child?" He asks. He waits with bated breath
"Blowing bubbles." The child answers, in a small and innocent voice
He watches the bubbles pop solemnly, and blows more, as if he has no choice
"I am afraid you're wasting your time, child. Can't you see?
"The bubbles will always pop, always die, regardless of you or me:thumb202831731:
Coven

Those night-sharpened eyes,
predatory, curious.
Which one will move first? In the Hallows

I. Cycles
I have stared into the abyss,
and have seen the silent reflection of its gaze.
Unencumbered by sentient though we co-exist.
Unblinking lidless eyes of, unconsciousness
From a single point
Growing ever and never, more
complex in its ways and means and mind.
In its wonder and in its, time
will shape the story of creation,
of destruction and foundation.
Unawareness so blind.
And in its vanity so, intertwined
with pointlessness.
Your soul shines in hasty splendor
Come see the spark,
Come feel the surrender.
I will show you eternity in a handful of dust.
Failing cycles of life, robust
In their persistence,
In their Insistence,
In their failing to live and their failing to die.
One must dismiss
One must question, why
Does he allow such fallow remains
To ever resurrect itself into the next, incarnation
of new realities yield, masturbations
of time, and again...and still then.
It all remains, until it attains
A final reckoning for the aberration.
II. Flashpoint
The threshold lies ope Though I Fall

Though I fall,
I will hold to my beginnings
And remember who I am.
Pain will not transform me,
Nor sadness overwhelm my spirit.
I shall endure.
Though I fall,
I shall not curse my fate
Nor wallow in life's sorrows.
We walk our paths alone,
But will meet at journey's end.
I will persevere.
Though I fall,
I am not forgotten.
My voice rings tall and true.
It lives within the gentle breeze,
And rides the sun's last rays
That touch the painted sea.
I am content.
Between the silence and the word,
I will dwell evermore.
You will find me
In that place of strength which never fails.
Undying, my moment is cast into time
Carrying me with it
…Though I Fall.
I Never Held A RaindropI never held a raindrop
Made cold from quiet fear
I never touched a tender heart
Unblessed by silent tears.
A moment ends, the setting sun
A memory disgraced
The light, a slowly fading nod
It's touch, our sorrow's soft embrace.
I never knew but one time touched
The Rose of Innocence
Would shed its petals evermore
And Fade from brief existence.
Once more I'll whisper sentiment
Once more so much to say
But words will only shadows cast
Of my souls bouquet.
I never wished for sacrifice
To stain our hallowed breath
Or linger in the depth of us
And feel like welcomed death.
In time my voice will travel down
To ages yet unspoken
Its song will fill the world with hope
The trail remains unbroken.
All is fleeting
so we weep
do not cry
though we sleep
precious moments
time's forever
the saddest words of all
…I never. Angels of the GoddessGoddess watches and goddess sees
Makes sure wind blows through sakura trees
Everything must be perfect for this night
For her two angels will take flight
Spreading their wings
Heaven sings
Calling them back home
To the goddess throne
Stories will be told
Of a world so cold
But also filled with light
Worth any struggle or fight
Cool whispers will blow
Time will flow
The angels will fly away
For winter cannot stay
The goddess will sing
Of angels who shall arouse spring
Beautiful in light of the moon
The sakura flowers will bloom
Look carefully and you will see
Sitting underneath a sakura tree
A goddess and her two angels
:thumb202113489: Entranced by Their Last DanceThis stage they made their own,
Such an enchanting dance they danced,
And even now when the audience has passed on by,
There they dance in simple majestic steps,
To the melody of the long dead orchestra,
Among the wild flowers that grow up through the cracks,
Cracks of a stage in such decay,
Decay of a stage that hasn't been used in decades,
Yet still they remain entranced in their last dance,
Through all the seasons never their stage do they leave,
In pure unstained white they dance on through the rain,
In the fiercest storm they shall remain untouched,
Though the stage around them is burning up,
Still their bare feet pick out the harmony of one another,
And the flams subside once again leaving the charcoal stage,
And the two youngsters in their eternal last dance,
Such beauty and sorrow in those haunting steps,
Forever captured by their passion never shall they leave,
For they made this old battered stage their own,
Long ago when it was new and magnificent,
They stepped out on to the:thumb204818916:
:thumb202331767: one star at a time.i want to swallow the galaxy and
press constellations to my throat,
like tattoos that glow brightly
in the dark instead of simply
fading.
        (like everything inevitably does.)
i want to engineer magpie bridges
for fellow starcrossed lovers
but carve them out of asteroids
so they'd be eternal instead of
fleeting.
          (like everything seems to be.)
i want to hang on to comet tails
and summon more shooting stars to
streak in their fiery silver brilliance
so hope manifests instead of just
dying.
       (like everything always achieves).
i want to change the world by tomorrow
so i'm beginning star-by-star tonight TimestreamTime carries me along,
down a stream
with oxbows and eddies,
rapids pulling me too quickly,
slow still waters that never seem to move,
bright burbling moments.
The scenery passes,
every moment moving by,
never a place I can really stop.
One day, someday, I know,
I will reach the sea,
my stream time complete.
The thought of it overwhelms, sometimes,
my stream lost in the hugeness of eternity,
and yet, life goes on,
and I might as well cherish the journey.
The World Cannot End TodayShe who is named to live on this earth,
Has never seen the boy of his birth.
Tangible objects will
Always be revealed,
When it is promised to
Have them carefully concealed.
You know, when the wind blows,
She can hear a sound of falling rain,
Making it hard to keep confidence in the sky,
Because her feelings touched a quitting beat.
He who is sitting on his mellow ground,
Is called the boy that never heard
The meaning of a precious genuine Crown.
Those who have forgotten the working feet,
That left permanent foot prints in white sand,
Are the ones that lost their journey to the clouds.
It's impossible to know clarity,
When focusing on wrong ways to endless
Thoughts of damaging diversity.
There is no "Me" in what is right,
It can't reach the window of
True happiness
Yourself is what you should forget,
Life is not about you,
But instead giving all your support to others,
Even if means loosing a bet.
She and him has learned intelligence now,
Finding that compassionate wills can save thousa Ostara's BlessingBeneath the first
full bloom of the moon
upon the Sabbath
of the vernal equinox
maidens blossomed in their
youth gather round
and diligently set about
painting Ostara's eggs
in colors more vibrant than
their beauty.
Her altar they arrange
decked in the flowers
of Spring, the first colors
to paint the world
out of the winter gloom.
Upon their sweet honey lips
they sing a melody
to their Goddess of Fertility,
with the hopes that they
may become so blessed
so like the moon their
wombs may grow.
Incarnates of the Goddess
creators of new life
to be brought from darkness
into the light. Huge collab'Shining like the Heavenly stars above,
I look to them for support in hardship,
All those constellations, even though I don't know their names
Their identities are unknown to me, but they guide me through this surreal land.
To light the way to God's Glory, :
To pick me up then I fall down, to light the way when night closes in,
As my dreams become His, and we walk together to them,
How can I explain such a phenomenon?
'Like lightning flashing in the night,
The love for my Savior burns with an insatiable light.
How can I keep this flame of love alive in my heart?
When it feels the world has turned its back,
Only God's strength can keep me here,
Holy Spirit come and abide,
I will wait until the sun shines bright,
No matter how far down the road may take me,
At my journeys end, I can now see the breaking of the dawn.
The Artist's ManifestoA blank page is the stillbirth of an idea
The abortion of creative thought,
Ripped lifeless and still from the womb of expression
A lost life is immoral,
Shunned by the eyes of the world
By the eyes of god
A lost idea is just the same,
Crumpled up inside a piece of paper
Abandoned, forgotten, thrown away
Left to die
Etched upon the alabaster skin
A testament is written
That no thought should die without purpose
Without a destiny
Without a steady hand to guide it
All ideas are born,
Planted in a garden of creativity
Cultivated in the small blip of time that is their existence
Like flowers, they blossom when encouraged with a bit of water and sunlight
Without encouragement, they wilt and eventually wither away
Turning to dust
To think, that all poets give birth to self-expression
Through a few words strung together
Forming a unique necklace that is to be worn and heard by the world
Seen through a window, in a slam
Shining like a distant star against the velvety blackness of the heavens
A:thumb202194121: The Foggy PathI feel like going back in time... The trees whisper to me
I need to bathe under the moonlight water
To make a flower crown and dance amongst the forest
Chant songs in the tongs of the fairies
I want to feel the waves of the world calling
Let my spirit flow until it reaches the secret path
There, where time is null
Where fawns and the ancient people live in communion
There where our mother watches over us shinning in the sky
Where father provides...
I yearn to feel the earth beneath my bare feet
The water running through my body
Fire burning in my veins
Air flowing through my hair...
I want to go home
                 D.L.Fercy
MonsoonSoft, soulful breeze on a quiet lazy afternoon,
Hints of summer rebellion in the air;
She quickens her tempo and whispers,
Stirring, restless words into ears of trees.
The sky leans in to listen and grows dark with desire,
Countless clouds turn from blue to deepening grey.
Closer and closer they gather, rumbling with a thunderous madness;
She laughs at his childish folly, and rouses the earth from her slumber.
The trees lock their ariel arms in a dance of passion
The wind sings, the earth smells fragrant;
And the lovers' reunion is certain.
He abandons his restraint at her sudden beckoning, and lets loose the rain…
They mingle together in sweet harmony,
Lo and behold ~
The monsoon is here!:thumb202646013: In Angel's ArmsI beg you shed no tears,
and cast down the wayward fears
that afflict you with pain.
Dear lady, you are safe here
in this realm, your sphere—
a hallowed aegis from the rain.
Take comfort in my embrace and hear
my voice that lifts you in good cheer;
a rapture in heavenly domain.
Light and darkness.Silence surrounds us.
Brick walls to keep us imprisoned,
Blocked out from any source of light.
Demons attacking from the utter darkness,
Tearing at us, trying to kill our spirits.
Continually they come, with claws against flesh...
God I pray to You,
Begging for forgiveness.
In our dying hour we cry for You,
As we hit the ground, with bodies bleeding.
These ugly creatures upon us, wanting our souls,
We cry, we cry, we cry for You.
In a flash like Lightning You came,
With a wave of Your hand the creatures tremble.
They beg You not to harm them,
But Your Light, Your Holiness burns them.
They flee into the darkness they came from,
As You come to us and lift us up.
You mend the wounds and heal the scars,
"You are Forgiven.'
With that Saving Grace we are made new,
In the Glorious Splendor of Your Light.

Mature Content

The Seventh FreedomBeneath the austere firmament,
under solar beams of shaded
gold in this holy of holies
rests solitary the prophetic
grimoire forbidden to my
heretic thoughts and
restless heathen touch.
I smile.
All hearts to my left
and all souls to my
right look upon the
judging tome, its
sentinels weary of the
sinner in their midst
who dares seek the prize.
I step forth.
"He doubts us," said they.
My intent is denuded
to their vigilant gaze.
"Yet he believes," came
their grand retort.
My past deeds divest me
before the loyal horde.
I view the words.
By the providence of my Creator,
my legs have escorted me to
fair leather bound bride upon
the altar built by the hands
of those that beset me
on all sides in this place;
the end of my chosen path.
I hear the whispered message.
I am set upon by the morn,
the touch of dawn upon
my fair skin casting it aglow,
its potent wrath cleaving
the remnant shadows and
coveted secrecy of my sins
with executioner's prejudice.
I feel the sacred blood's warmth.
Behold!
The Old God, Savitrॐ भूर्भुव: स्व: तत्सवितुर्वरेण्यं ।
भर्गो देवस्य धीमहि, धीयो यो न: प्रचोदयात् ।।
I.
The wind blew sand into your nonchalant soul,
and your heart coughed. I entered the circle
at night, and I was consumed by fire. I did not
know of you then. I have fractured myself into
a thousand souls: but they are all whole, for I did
see you in my absence. Yet you? - you
were sailing, and your head was
full of water light.
II.
I was significant when your mother poured out water
in a copper pot from a balcony; water, which
caught and held the moon, and then spilled over
with a quiet radiance. You wondered whether
the moon l

Project Educate : Literature Week

Lunch and Intro: #CRLiterature

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Urban Fantasy Literature

The Literature Community

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Visual and Concrete Poetry

Plight of The Commonly Miscatted

The Submission Process and You

WTH Characters and Sittings Gallery?

Contests, Projects & News

's April challenge.

Deadline is April 30th.

All details can be found here: Storybook Contest

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Previous issues

Issue 1 - Dutch
Issue 2 - Songs & Lyrics
Issue 3 - Non-fiction & Letters
Issue 4 - Spoken Word
Issue 5 - Haiku & Nature related
Issue 6 - Short Horror Fiction
Issue 7 - Rhyming Poetry
Issue 8 – Six Word Stories
Issue 9- Fantasy Lit

About Darkest Corners LIT

_{Darkest Corners Lit was originally launched by namenotrequired and it's now being handled by TheWriterMirage and julietcaesar

Issue prepared by TheWriterMirage}