yeatsgrave

Cait's Grave

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April's Voice by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

April's Voice

April's voice sings me to sleep, all the trees are singing, and the breeze, in my ears. they say their leaves have never felt so green, and I'm so green, and falling asleep on springtime. The sun feels so warm now, and I sigh. pretend it never burned me. sigh for summer air, and my eyes. fall asleep to the lightness of evening remembering when you were wide awake and by my side Do you love me more? now that you can't see me, as I fall asleep and listen to the air. I was lost in the season, need to be inspired, inspired by the sea again. I need to be inspired and take my pen you weren't there, but you, how could I hav

Nightmare: Romance, etc. by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Nightmare: Romance, etc.

Nightmare: Romance Movie Screen Violence Dream girls feel sidewalk rage in short skirts tall boots and sharp under-wires holding up digging in deep purses for lipstick pepper spray and loose tobacco in fingernails yellowed smiles just like those old magazine clippings kept under the bed from fingers exploring possessing caressing their long hair the breeze those branches brushing gently at car windowpanes high-speeds chasing a breeze that winds through corners and smiles back she's running but fades like a movie reel burning and melting away with each step through the snow a mountainous figure looms in

Untitled by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Untitled

I. Midsummer They say God's heartbeat rolls as his chest hits the sky and the warmth of his skin meets with cold clouds like metal springs poked through a mattress Raging sparks form like defibrillator pads pressed to his bosom as the wind yells clear! God comes to life with many great booms and pops and the danger of fire huffing frantic after a deep grey comatose sinking silent The sky brings him to life After the electrodes and the clouds like fluffy gauze have been removed and tossed aside Nurse Wind wheels God's bed away A warm glow in the sky once again: His heart burns brightly. II.

G U T by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

G U T

GUT* My soul turns into a tree, And an animal, and a cloud bank. Then changed and odd it comes home And asks me questions. What should I reply? -Herman Hesse I believe all the bones in our bodies hold tiny constellations; of stars; of moons; of rocks. Like this rock I sit on, that cools and spins as I spin. In a field I dig, and think the atoms of my fingernails were once the atoms in a dinosaur’s ribcage; were once the atoms melting from a glacier before the clouds formed. In this way I have travelled through time. And they now speculate:

Romance by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Romance

We hold hands and undress our personalities for the night Let our secrets go And the morning wears off slowly like waking from a dream until the afternoon with our coffee and breakfast where it is business as usual You on your side of the table me on mine The coffee stronger than the means we use to sweeten it The fog outside floats in from the harbour We step out the door to the street and pull our coats on tighter

The Marriage Statistic by yeatsgrave, literature

Endings Find No Remains by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Endings Find No Remains

I wake up one morning to find I am missing an arm. My other hand pats beneath the covers but finds no remains. Outside I walk the sandbar along the beach skipping stones, and feeling it when they sink. Waves dissolve the sand around my feet. The man of my dreams arrives and whispers through my soul.* We kiss but it turns out he's been made a eunuch. There is nowhere we can go from here No future to be made, and Suddenly I find no remains.

Falling by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Falling

What is it like in those final seconds of falling? I know there is darkness first, then heaviness in eyelids, legs, and arms. The mind comes in and out like waves for some time. But in the final seconds something gets erased. A fluid in the brain perhaps. Like the surface barrier on water; just as your nostrils hit, and you finally have to exhale, the rest of the world floats away for a moment, and then you arrive changed; submerged. Falling asleep is like that. Ether, like water, holding you in the dark underneath.

Never in Love by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Never in Love

Even though we were never in love we tried to stretch our jaws across vast deserts of the earth; The oases on our tongues turned to cacti; The soil against our jeans where we sat, legs tangled, felt a little too rough on our bare skin. The moon shone hot on our backs, so we’d lie belly up, turning toward each other; Our arms spread like wings, ready to escape the hot hot air. At night when the stars appeared against blue sky, cloudless as our thoughts, we’d breathe cold breath in each other’s ears as we slept. Really, we always kept our eyes closed. Every morning we had that pain in our jaw, and parched l

a typical day in the universe by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

a typical day in the universe

The universe sat down to a cup of tea one afternoon in a great big armchair in the sun and began thinking The universe thought about its life and all the people it knew and within its mind it saw them slowly taking form As the universe rose and walked to the window it imagined its characters coming to life At first there was one vague entity and soon a few, then several All opaque and shadowy And the universe mentally followed them It saw one entity rise from bed and reach for a tshirt to throw over its fuzzy outline and some jeans The universe watched closely as the clothing settled in a particular form with particula

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April's Voice by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

April's Voice

Nightmare: Romance, etc. by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Nightmare: Romance, etc.

Untitled by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Untitled

G U T by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

G U T

Romance by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Romance

The Marriage Statistic by yeatsgrave, literature

Endings Find No Remains by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Endings Find No Remains

Falling by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Falling

Never in Love by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

Never in Love

a typical day in the universe by yeatsgrave, literature

Literature

a typical day in the universe

Watchers 16

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lifeuncommon

Seittik

aillesdors

nycterent

ShaunJoyce

New2photography

Nicandor

jerkgentry

Shoresome

squared-off

Symphonyofmasks

doomrabbit

Watching 31

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ravenofroses

aillesdors

nycterent

ScribbledNotes

r-mitchell

estallidos

jerkgentry

Shoresome

squared-off

Symphonyofmasks

bbd127

Quinquaginta

Litera

Loresinger

poetic-forms

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Synesthesia by aillesdors, literature

Literature

Synesthesia

Impatience peels from your voice like chocolate shavings – thin, dark and tenuous with an aftertaste of sweetness, an intoxicating allure that piques my curiosity glands. “It hasn’t come yet” is the statement, but the subtext, citrus-sharp, like lemon zest, is unmistakable: “Why?” it begs, “Where is it?” Lemon-chocolate seduces my senses; my answer is the crackling sheen of crème brûleé: “it’ll come. Be patient.” I know you sense it, the warm, creamy subtext waiting beneath your hovering spoon. Two more days you’ll live in the saccharine souring

Scrutiny by aillesdors, literature

Literature

Scrutiny

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin… ~ T.S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock I am going through the keyless gate to watch and wait, to wander here and there among the proud, among the white and old whose wisdom rots, repressed, untold: the soporific royals wreathed in leaves of gold. And to them I shall read aloud from the Book, read of the sins their lips have took and upon me they shall look and patiently reflect… “I am lost in my own depth,” I will say in a slight, impartial way (for I lack violets and an antic prin

Once by aillesdors, literature

Smoked by BrittanniaRain, literature

Silence Never Was Golden by ScribbledNotes, literature

Literature

Silence Never Was Golden

It just started all at once one day, this tremendous ability and skill that I could talk to fruit. Well, not talk to them in their language, just listen. I understood their native tongue but never developed the know-how to speak it - it was much too complex. Thank goodness they understood English, and knew much of the world. Jill asked me how my day went when I walked in the room one evening, unloosening my tie and un-tucking my shirt. "Over with," I said, kissing her cheek. My good friend, Banana was sitting in the fruit bowl, muttering about how he's annoyed Apple keeps talking about the pesticides that are polluting th

I Love You More by ScribbledNotes, literature

Literature

I Love You More

He said, “I bet if I ate fireflies, I'd light up something wonderful and special and then I'd be the perfect man you'd always want.” She grimaced, said to stop reading Alice in Wonderland, to stop being such a dreamer, stop talking in abstract ideas and nonsensical prose. It's. Not. Healthy. --- He hand wrote a little chapbook for her, poems and thoughts, his deepest. Pricked his finger,watching in fascination as the sanguine liquid dripped, splatter small in the corner of the cover page. She would always have a piece of his heart near-by. He found it abused and dogeared through use of neglect in corners

Untitled by jerkgentry, literature

A Critical Essay Concerning... by bbd127, literature

Literature

A Critical Essay Concerning...

A Critical Essay Concerning Itself (In Seven Parts) Part I: Overview The primary subject of A Critical Essay Concerning Itself (hereafter called simply Essay) is its own self-analysis; hence it is a deeply introspective work, and it is in this light that we must consider it. Indeed, some might argue that Essay is concerned with nothing else, though deeper inspection reveals this is not quite true. (Consider, for example, the section on Critical Reaction, which deals with a response to the essay rather than the essay itself. That these two constitute the same text should not be held against the author.) How, then, shall we approach a work

Deviation Spotlight

once, we were cats by yeatsgrave, literature

once, we were cats

yeatsgrave

About yeatsgrave

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Artist // Literature

Canada
Deviant for 18 years
She / Her

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My Bio

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ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooountilyourreallysmall

Current Residence: a canadian peninsula
Favourite genre of music: acoustic/synth/violin/cello/piano.anything drawing on many genres with beauty/interest/expressivity
MP3 player of choice: iTunes
Favourite cartoon character: GIR

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Favourite Writers

Neil Gaiman, Franz Kafka, Herman Hesse, Robert Frost, WB Yeats, EA Poe, Liz Greene, etc.

Tools of the Trade

brain, hand, pen or laptop, inspiration

Other Interests

writing

Posts

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yeatsgrave

Mar 17, 2011

still want to sing

0 min read

I still want to sing. I'm still saying, in my next lifetime. Just an update. More of a downdate. Or a middledate. ring. your past is calling. hang up the phone.

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yeatsgrave

Nov 9, 2009

untitled: most compelling title I came up with

0 min read

I hate my writing. You know what I lack? I lack style. Completely. Why am I such a sporadic case? I just want to have a concrete something. Not this chaotic rain of trash that's just falling all the time from every direction that doesn't make any sense. Soppy wet trash. That's how it comes along. I can't find anything in it. Nothing to build from it. Why do I bother? Aside from avoiding the real world. Hmph.

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yeatsgrave

Jun 10, 2009

Apology

0 min read

Just thought I'd drop in to apologize for being ridiculously neglectful!! So after school I thought I'd have tons of time to critique, but it turns out I've selfishly managed to fill my time with other activities. None of which are very creative. It's not even like I work a lot (I need a second job desperately). I don't know how this happened. It's like suddenly months go by and you're like "Whoa, where did they go?" Therefore, my plot is that today after work I will come home and start critiquing. And then even write back to my pen pals! Who I have also been neglecting. How does this all happen? I haven't even written anything. I get ideas a

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Profile Comments 35

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lifeuncommon

Sep 9, 2011

Hi! I found your page via ~aillesdors. I'm a flaky, disorganised man who doesn't read poets he watches with anything approaching regularity or consideration. Nevertheless,

aillesdors

Apr 21, 2009

*tugs on your sleeve* I have a confession to make...

[link]

I hope you don't mind!!! *looks hopeful* I'll take it down if you do...

nycterent

Mar 21, 2009

I remember you. You're that cat-poem-person. The best kind of person to be.

New2photography

Dec 13, 2008

Hey I know it's short notice but are you free monday morning around 9:00 for a photoshoot? The shoot is going to be up by nscc IT campus?

estallidos

Nov 15, 2008

augh! merci beaucoup, but be careful, i've a vendetta against capital "i"s.

=]

yeatsgrave

Nov 15, 2008

Oh! I did not know. Why don't you like capital "i"s? (I suddenly wonder why it IS capitalized, I never actually knew)

estallidos

Nov 16, 2008

capitals scare me.
along with even numbers.
but i'm suddenly willing to face my fears and figure out why we capitalize the letter "i." that is a wonderful question. i've never considered it.