ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
I remember emotion
Like the deaf recall a tune.
I still have the notion,
But even that will be gone soon.
The songs are muffled at first,
But the notes remain.
I can still be immersed
In musical joy and pain.
But like a copy of a copy of a copy,
Notes are lost and misplaced,
The whole thing gets sloppy,
A masterpiece defaced.
Finally, the end of the blaze
The last notes die in a frost
Leaving the profound malaise
That something beautiful was lost.
Dead is the feeling I once had.
Left in a mute concert hall,
I wonder how it can hurt so bad,
To feel nothing at all.
Like the deaf recall a tune.
I still have the notion,
But even that will be gone soon.
The songs are muffled at first,
But the notes remain.
I can still be immersed
In musical joy and pain.
But like a copy of a copy of a copy,
Notes are lost and misplaced,
The whole thing gets sloppy,
A masterpiece defaced.
Finally, the end of the blaze
The last notes die in a frost
Leaving the profound malaise
That something beautiful was lost.
Dead is the feeling I once had.
Left in a mute concert hall,
I wonder how it can hurt so bad,
To feel nothing at all.
Literature
R.I.P.
Did anyone notice that she winced if you raised your arm?
Did anyone notice that her eyes were wide with alarm?
Did anyone notice that she never looked you in the eye?
Did anyone notice that her voice was but a sigh?
Did anyone notice that her skin was always bruised?
Did anyone question whether she might be abused?
Did anyone question why she walked in obvious fear?
Did anyone question why one day she did not appear?
Did anyone recognize her face on the six-o’clock news?
Did anyone see her remains pulled from the river refuse?
Did anyone care that this quiet girl no longer exists?
No. No one did. And she will never even be missed.
R.I
Literature
Secrets Should be Silent
Secrets Should be Silent:
What is in the nature of a secret?
It is not to be known, nor to be seen.
It is that which we bury beneath layers of deceit.
Why then, do we bury poetry?
why then, do we bury prose?
Why secret that which is meant to be seen,
And showcase that which is meant to be secret?
Are the words of our soul less important,
Than mere phrases designed to seek attention?
Are the words that we carve from experience,
Taken as less than a general phrase of emotion?
...No, I would hope not.
For I do as any other might,
And my skeletons are kept under lock and key.
For a secret displayed remains secret no longer;
Merely a gossip'
Literature
Dear Writer
Dear Writer,
I don’t like you. I’ve never liked you. Unfortunately, I need you. I need you to tell my story. I need you to create my world. I need you to set me free.
I need your fingers typing on those keys, I need your mind riddling out the problems, and I need you to plough onward and upward no matter how hard it gets. Sweat, blood, and tears, I don’t care. You’ve got to fight this war, battle at a time, and win it. So I can be more.
It’s a slim hope, but it is the only one I have. In your head I am bound to mortality, frailty, and the limit of your meagre imagination. Out there – out there – I
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
There was a time when my heart would race with joy when, for example, my art received accolades, and I would be inconsolably crushed for weeks after the death of a loved one. Now, both extremes of emotion are almost completely numb. This poem is about the paradox of feeling depressed about the deadening of emotions, comparing the experience to a newly deaf person slowly forgetting what music sounded like.
I think this weakening of emotion with age might be a normal form of habituation, which refers to “a decrease in response to a stimulus after repeated presentations.” What do you think? Please share your thoughts.
I think this weakening of emotion with age might be a normal form of habituation, which refers to “a decrease in response to a stimulus after repeated presentations.” What do you think? Please share your thoughts.
© 2013 - 2024 BatmanWithBunnyEars
Comments60
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
A very nice story told in beautiful way!