Chrysopal
under-rated □
Bonjour
This will be my first publicly displayed collection of pieces created by me.
Spring of 2011
Written on the east coast of CanadaWhy do the ones
Who commit repeated sins
Have their life served to them
On a silver platter?
Yet the ones who spend their life trying
And helping others
Lose everything
As if it doesn't matter?
A fresh baked bread
Cooling in a cabin
Of whom are newly wed
Mrs. loves to bake
Strudel, loaves and funnel cakes
Whereas Mr. loves to hunt
Elk, rabbit, deer
He's really rather blunt
How he loves his darling wife
Flowers, dancing, sunset in the field
Everything he tells her
He has nothing consealed
Mrs. lights a buffet of candles
Sets out dinner, slices her bread
Runs to get her husband
Who is keeping animals fed
She jumps in his arms
He holds on tight
Although,
He looks over her shoulder
To see their cabin alight
Standing in the ashes
Smoke the warm wind blew
He looked at her
Her eyes pouring flames
"Thank God I still have you".

Welcome to the thread
My artsy diary
♡
As a fellow art fanatic I hope you enjoy some of my short stories, poetry, and visual arts.♡
This will be my first publicly displayed collection of pieces created by me.
open to critique
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Spring of 2011
Written on the east coast of Canada
Who commit repeated sins
Have their life served to them
On a silver platter?
Yet the ones who spend their life trying
And helping others
Lose everything
As if it doesn't matter?
Winter of 2013
Written in the rocky mountains of Canada
Sniff Sniff!Written in the rocky mountains of Canada
A fresh baked bread
Cooling in a cabin
Of whom are newly wed
Mrs. loves to bake
Strudel, loaves and funnel cakes
Whereas Mr. loves to hunt
Elk, rabbit, deer
He's really rather blunt
How he loves his darling wife
Flowers, dancing, sunset in the field
Everything he tells her
He has nothing consealed
Mrs. lights a buffet of candles
Sets out dinner, slices her bread
Runs to get her husband
Who is keeping animals fed
She jumps in his arms
He holds on tight
Although,
He looks over her shoulder
To see their cabin alight
Standing in the ashes
Smoke the warm wind blew
He looked at her
Her eyes pouring flames
"Thank God I still have you".
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