Saturday, October 8, 2011 - , , 0 comments



White beauty is falling from the heavens.
The ground is covered by its grace.
Everything is pure white.

The silence has consumed the day.
Peace has stabbed our souls.
The trees crack as cold embrace them.

The sun shines over the whit snow.
The ice shines as the sun goes down.
The cold red lights of the sun fade away in the snow.

Night comes to the land.
Cold strikes the ground.
And snow, the snow continues to fall.

Winter winds blow out side.
The snow covers all.
And all becomes white.

by ~willyoudieforme
Thursday, September 29, 2011 - , , , , 0 comments

Lust or the Lord

Lust or The Lord?
I would strip down out of my clothes    
And expose my naked body,
that in the heat of lust  
But would I undress my soul and    
reveal my explicitly naked spirit    
in order to gain His trust?    
Could it be that my sexual infatuation    
is what is blocking this relationship between us    
And why is it that without hesitation    
I’m quick to reach in my drawer    
for that box of Trojan Sensations    
But I don’t even care to have the patience    
to open up and read the Word    
It’s crazy..    
I can yell “Daddy” all night long    
 Coerced moans stimulated by pleasure    
But never do I once even bother to call on    
My own Father  to help make things better    
And it’s a shame cuz    
I’m quick to get it    
For a good 55 minutes    
And yeah it might be good    
While dude is hittin it    
but eventually he will get up and leave    
and I’ll be left empty-handed    
Then I’ll be back to being the no-man-bandit    
Without even once caring to realize    
That God has been laying there by my side    
 he doesn’t even  get up and leave    
In the middle of the night    
No he’s not just some one night stand    
He is forever with me    
His love is everlasting    
Time to time I question    
why my sexual desire    
is way much greater than    
the need to acquire    
a stronger craving for God.    
So to this sinful, sexual lifestyle    
Its going to have to be good-bye    
Because a relationship with the Lord    
Is one no other man    
can even begin to satisfy

by Ashley Joseph
Monday, September 19, 2011 - , , , , 0 comments

On the Spotlight:Cherie Burbach

Cherie Burbach specializes in relationships and helping people to connect. She is the Guide to Friendship and has penned eleven books and ebooks, including Internet Dating Is Not Like Ordering a Pizza and 21 Ways to Promote Your Book on Twitter. She has published over 500 articles on the subjects of health, sports, and lifestyle. For more info, visit her website,

How did you develop a passion for writing?

My mom says I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil, and I think that’s true. My desire to write was always present and God given, since the time I was a kid.

Where do you find writing ideas?

Everywhere! I’m one of those people who is always scribbling in a notebook, in addition to pounding away at the keyboard.

What’s helped most in honing your writing craft?

Actively writing every day and reading.

Who inspires you?

I get inspired by so many people.
Jesus is my biggest inspiration.
His word, his actions… they have deep meaning for me. I enjoy reading about people, how they overcome the trials in their life, how they work toward their goals, and how they find happiness.

What are some of your passions?

Writing, painting, reading, cooking… anything creative. I enjoy solving problems and reaching goals. I’m very passionate about sharing my life experiences in a way that can help others. If I had one overall passion it would be to improve the lives of women who have dealt with abuse at the hands of people that should have loved them unconditionally. I want every woman to know her worth.

How can bloggers write better?

Write daily, not just when you feel like it. Blog like it’s your job, and your natural voice will come through.

How much time do you spend writing?

During the week, I try and spend half my day writing, and the other half doing things like promotion, website maintenance, client “stuff” (like meeting new people, billing, etc.). I write every day although some days are lighter than others. Weekdays are all about my client and blogging work, and weekends are for poetry and fiction projects.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011 - , , , 0 comments

Interview with ~GoldenLeaves

A deviously deviant of only two years, Fiona Eve of France (~Golden-Leaves) has put quite a dent in our Devaintart Community. Her gallery consists of an astounding collection of poetry, as well as anywhere from photography to traditional media. I was lucky enough that she had time to come online and interview her, she is a very interesting individual. 

Do you have any non-literature creative activities?
I indulge in classical music, singing, hiking, nature activities, and drawing. I also love languages, and teaching myself. 

When did you first start writing? What encouraged you to write or express yourself in this form of art?
I first started writing since I was able to write, in elementary school. I was a really creative, imaginative little kid, and it was wonderful to write down my thoughts and express myself in that way. My dad also served as an inspiration as well, writing poetry his whole life, himself. 

Is there any type of poetry that you like to write more then the other types?
I love writing classical poetry, such as sonnets. Dark poetry (with a sad, sweet touch) is also a favorite. 

What inspires you to write?
Everything and anything! A sad movie, a hug from my sister, a storm outside, or just plain silence. 

Do you write for yourself or for those around you? Have you ever written a poem that was too personal to post on DA? What was it like?
Some poems are for myself, some are for others. But when I think about it, ALL of my poems could be for someone else, since people relate to most of them. 
I wrote a poem once, describing the things I disliked about myself. It was very brutal and harsh, and I decided not to post it on dA. There have been others, of course, not posted, but they were mostly to do with family and personal things I don't want people to read. 

Do you have any other poets that you look up to?
Oh, yes. My favorite is Emily Dickinson, along with John Donne, Robert Frost, Shakespeare, and Shelley. Oh! And my father, as well.  

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you get out of that art block?
Yes, I've had art blocks. When that happens, I don't force it. If I'm not feeling inspired, or lousy about myself, than nothing I write will be any good. I'm just patient, and wait until it comes to me.

What would you say to someone who starting to write poetry? Do you have any pointers?
- don't tell yourself you can't write. you may never be published or famous, but if writing poetry helps express your heart's feelings, than go for it!
- READ! mon dieu, if people only knew how much inspiration and help I get from classic authors, or well-written poetry. Better yet, you have a greater command of vocabulary, and can use words in rhyming with much more ease.
- if you want to write less-descriptive poetry, the choose less than ten words (that may or may not be similar with each other), and write your poem using ONLY those words in as creative a way as possible. 

Is there else that you would like to add?
No, other than "thank you" for letting me do this, and a big smile to everyon e in the group out there. You're all poets, whether you think so or not!   

She is a truly inspiring individual and we hope that she keeps on posting all of her amazing artwork for years to come. 

Read poems by ~GoldenLeaves here.
Friday, February 4, 2011 - , , 0 comments



She is all gentle gecko guile
And sweet serpent smiles;

A velvet massage of words
She wears on her heart like birds;

Against her soul's skin she weaves
Emotion from her fingers to her feet;

With the chestnut allure of her hair
She charms the Silence without a care;

In the mirror I see her wide doe-eyes
Scattering petals of every hue in the Sky;

A muse turning hurt into healing
With her pen inking out deep feeling;

She is the eclipse in a cauldron tossed
With inspiration, so eloquently flossed;

And I know her, I see her everyday,
She is me and with me she will stay.

Friday, October 8, 2010 - , , 0 comments

How I Measure Love

How I Measure Love

You asked me how much I love you.
On a scale from one to ten.

I whispered, "Infinity."

Because if I took a brush,
dipped in our love,
and painted a line made of whispered wishes,
and passionate kisses,
and tried to measure how much I love you,
it would stretch to the outer reaches of the universe.

And everyone would see that line,
twisting and curving,
in shades of happy tears and butterfly wings,
and say that someone crazy must have spent all that time painting it.
Or someone in love.

It would cross oceans on the backs of fish,
and cover cities, countries, and continents,
eventually breaching the atmosphere,
to play connect the dots with the stars. 
It would ricochet off comet tails, 
and weave playfully between Saturn's rings.

It would paint the universe in colors,
vivid neons,
and pale pastels,
that people could see, when they looked up into the night sky.
Like the northern lights,
our love could light up the Heavens.

It would paint the tips of wheat plants,
dyeing the field in shades of swaying beauty.

It would coat the canopies of the tallest trees,
so you could only really see its artistry from the sky.

It would wind through lost mountain roads,
so that only the locals,
and young couples, lost in each others eyes,
could appreciate the delicacy of that one hidden spot.

The business men,
with their eyes only on their work,
would pause when they stumble across that line.
See something besides their next paycheck,
or the inside of their cubicle.
And maybe it would help them see that love can sometimes be more important than their salary.

And single mothers,
whose exasperated sighs,
are coated in spilled spaghetti, 
and muddy feet,
will see it.
And maybe it will restore their faith that they can find beauty in the little things. 

But only you and I will know what it really means,
when billions of people look up in the sky,
and wonder where it came from.
Only you and I will know its true meaning.

And when I've painted every corner of the universe,
traveled across this planet,
to the next,
I'll paint that line to you.

I'll knock on your door,
that paintbrush still dripping at my side,
and finally throw myself into your arms.

And as the paint dries,
in a figure eight around our bodies, held as one,
my line will finally be done.
Because the only path I needed to trace,
to show you how much I love you,
was the one that stretched from me to you.

by *SoImStillUnsure

Desire Poem


A whispered secret in the hollow of your ear.
Though it be pleasurable, it is something you should fear.

Delicious essence of a pale soul
Calls my blood to your control.

Grim seduction tangled in mindful delusion
My sin lingers in the dew drop web of confusion.


Swallowed remnant of absinthe continuously drips
A sweet cloying nectar from your lips.

Trace the gentle contours of given form.
Drink in the sensuous emotion we've borne.

Revel in the throes of tumulus rebellion
Twisting and falling into conscious oblivion.


Listen as I tune my fine instrument
Upon fluttering heartstrings in gentle lament.

Mesmerize and memorize your raw desire
Reaction to fatal attraction of ice and fire.

Together our power becomes invincible
But one will succumb to the inevitable.


Forbidden contact an oracle cannot condone
For this precious act must be atoned.

Withered determination to quench the lust
Hungering eyes grasp for misguided trust.

Nemesis you may seek, yet am I the foe?
Body frozen in stale movement and left without an echo.


by ~Apocolypse-Eternity