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Ink GravesLetterless words and pageless books-
and ink blots on the flowers;
Ghosts scratch their heads and tap their pens,
all across the hours.
Winds can howl and cease to be,
by one twitch of my pen;
I spoke of writing a poem tonight,
and by dawn I've written ten.
Emily sits aside nobody,
the Raven, above, waits;
Frost dances in a yellow wood,
among the long lost dates.
A tall, well spoken willow,
looms over the grave;
Protecting every dated word,
and every thought they gave.
I crumple another masterpiece,
with thoughts I'd thought to save;
and as it strikes the baset bottom,
it rests in its ink grave.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More