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Black WidowBeware the creature with withered heart, Her dangerous game ripping souls apart The quest for truth so well she feigns But you will see, it's all in veinBlack Widow
Her heart is bitter within her breast To shatter lives, her abounding quest Patient and loving is her guise She'll taunt him with her braided lies
Upon his innocence she doth prey For vengeance sake alone she slays She feeds on misery and pain And looks upon him with disdain
She lures him in with persona connived Because, for him, her love is contrived Enticing him to the web she weaves &
by *Drock0211
The ChamberIn flowing robes I stand and shiver, for fear of what I might deliver Referred to books upon the shelves, in which are written noxious spells Now in my power I do hold the secrets to these words of old Around me are the tools of trade, lost symbols that the world forbade 'Tis not the harmless toys of man that I now hold in withered hand And to such men I now shall show, the terror I alone bestowThe Chamber
Surrounded by these walls of stone, I glare into the gloom once more Pentacles drawn on floors of slate, dragon's blood spilled in post haste My cauldron sits upon its throne in visage of lost exh
by *Drock0211
Everlasting DarknessDarkness shrouds my gritty face as I look into the gloomEverlasting Darkness
I start to realized my fate with deep, impending doom
No light, no stars to guide the way as I pound upon the door
An everlasting darkness is what I have in store
My heart pounds oh so desperately as I find a way to fight
This horrific nightmare that has become my plight
The panic wells from deep within as I scratch upon the pine
My voice chokes in my throat as I slowly start to whine
Too far away to even hope that someone just might hear
The screams that now erupt from m
by *Drock0211
Scarlet SkiesThe night begins with shades of red, I wish I had refrainedScarlet Skies
Regretting words that I have said, that caused you so much pain
I look up to the scarlet skies, my heart filled with such sorrow
I know you want to say goodbye, how can I face tomorrow
The silent tears run down my face, I wish you wouldn't go
I know that I can not erase the scars you do not show
I know the list is limitless, betrayal and false virtues
But though I meant no malice, you think I am untrue
I wish that you could understand, the me you do not see
But fate ha
by *Drock0211
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| I've wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. It all started when I was very young. My dad read bedtime stories to me every night before I went to sleep. Sometimes he would make them up as he went along. (I think those were my favorites.) They were fabulous! Stories of dragons, monsters, fairies and trolls. The funny thing was that I would want to hear that same made up story the next night, or even a week later, told to me in exactly the same way. Uh oh! But somehow, he remembered them, and trust me – if he had gotten a part slightly wrong, I would correct him. .... .. .. Later, my dad taught me to read, and I read through the works of Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft and Stephen King and so many others. When I was in high school, I wrote poetry and short stories and just loved the way it felt to put words on paper in such a way to give a flow and a feeling; to bring characters to life – to tell a story. I’ve always had a reverence for books. My dad took me to book stores of all kinds; large book stores, mom and pop bookstores and even used, bargain book sales - which I think I enjoyed most of all. I'll never forget the feeling that I would get when I would pick up a book and feel the weight of it in my hand; especially a well worn book. I think a worn, well read book has character. It shows that the reader enjoyed the tale; cared more about the story, than the pages themselves. Books have a feeling of power, imagination, a worth beyond any price. To this day I walk into a book store with my head held high, a feeling of reverence as I step through the threshold, the smell of the pages calling to me. My only dilemma after purchasing a few books is which one to start reading first!.... .. .. I have children of my own now, and their room is filled with wonderful stories. And I must be honest, I don’t know who enjoys the stories more – me or my kids..... .. .. I decided one day, years ago, that I wanted to share with children the experience that I had as a child; the experience of going to sleep after being read stories filled with loveable characters, fun places and just plain bursting with imagination. And so, I sat and wrote my first story about a possum with low self esteem who learns a very valuable lesson. I hope one day to see my books in print, and know that somewhere, in some home, there’s a child who’s ears are perked and enthralled with a story that I’ve spun..... .. .. Thanks for reading..... |
Devious Info
- Current Residence: My apartment
- Interests: Reading and writing
- Favourite movie: Too many to choose
- Favourite band or musician: Disturbed
- Favourite genre of music: Rock
- Favourite poet or writer: Poe/Lovecraft
- Favourite photographer: Ansel Adams
- Favourite style of art: Dark
- Operating System: My brain
- Wallpaper of choice: I like paint better than wallpaper
- Skin of choice: My own is good. Been in it since birth
- Favourite game: Burnout Revenge
- Favourite gaming platform: PS2
- Favourite cartoon character: Marvin the Martian
- Tools of the Trade: The item to trade and at least two people to exchange the item being traded
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