*Leurindal

flowers and flames...

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About Me Premium Member Pseudo-Intellectual Leonard Farrugia19/Male/Malta

Recent Activity Deviant for 2 Years
15 Month Premium Membership

Statistics 39 Deviations
1,796 Comments
3,980 Pageviews

A Legacy of Wisdom

You have scribed your words, wealthy wreaths of wisdom, on paper never torn or worn. You have etched your passions on my brow.
You have left this wallowed world victorious; eyes resplendent with the wisdom you wrote and wrought. Your passions shall echo in my ears unto eternity.
And should I stray into some sullen storm, or get caught in
the torrents of the monsoon, I’ll know
that Lear’s been there before, and
I’ll not swoon.
And if Hades’ doors open up before my stranded soul, and scorch it with th

DD - 19/10/09

Thanks to =GwenavhyeurAnastasia and ^LadyLincoln for the honour, and to all those who have read this poem and shared, or related to, the passions within it.

I'll meet her again...

It’s Samhain. The line between the spirit world and our own is a ray of moonlight.
It’s the night when the reluctant soul sticks
to our plane, hovering - a withered rose whose beauty is the figment of a dream;
a gleam gilding the surface of the lake.
For long hours of idyll would the Lake
poets revel in letting their spirit soar free on the nightingale’s wings, and dream
of glimpsing their Muse clad in pure moonlight –
but tonight magic’s afoot: clouds just rose to blu

My first sestina.

This poem was awarded first place in ^fllnthblnk's Sestina-ween contest and in =xgnyc's Halloween contest.

Heartfelt thanks to

and

for the great honour!

Laudanum and the Moonlit Night

Flattered by the gossamer glow of a blushing moon, I scour the poppy-fields for the opiates of inspiration, the petals brushing against my bare thighs; easing the tense creases in my neck into shivers down my back. What wanton joy, as I wander and wade in this sea of red, the waves of flowers parting before me, waltzing with the silent wake of my footsteps. I could saunter on forever, holding nightfall by the waist; nature at my beck and call.
Why do you blush, moon? Is it because of how stark naked I appear before you, disrobed by your own coaxing caress? All cares do I brush

A recent rush of poetry to the head.

DLD - 8/11/09

Sincere thanks to

and

Newest

A Scattering of MeteoriteLast night I saw the sky turn red. The heavens heaved and all life bled as meteors rained upon the world, the cosmos' wrath raw and unfurled. I could do naught but gaze wide-eyed at cities razed and lives denied, at trees ablaze and fields aflame. When at long last I o'ercame the fear that froze me to the ground, I looked around and there I found two lovers locked in tight embrace, a blissful death etched on their face.
This life of ours 's a tawdry treasure, for there's no meter that can measure the tears that trickle and descend, the meteors tha A Scattering of Meteorite
by *Leurindal

DieSometimes I think that life's a die, and to die's to lose the joy of rolling. A gamble that can brook no sigh – no sullen thoughts, no fear of falling. But how to live when life's a cry to vertiginous vicissitude no mortal man may scry? How to cling to constant mood, when every deed fails to deny that we're no more than mendicants: beggars praying to some yonder Eye to hear hierophants' chants - to spare and lift our souls up high? We are but leaves aboard a breeze, swaying 'til the end is nigh, 'til we sail 'cross perilous seas.
But I' Die
by *Leurindal

La Dolce VitaA fev'rish brow, a jaundiced face, adorn this rotten, gaping skull, as tears stream down but leave no trace save withered cheeks and autumn lull.
A sun too bright , a sheen too frail, is perched aloft the dusty air, and photons fight to leave a trail on rosy lips and elf-locks fair.
Erotic legs 'neath satin dress match rouge-smeared cheeks and bodice tight; I yearn for her soft-palmed caress as I've done every, other night.
My life's a sonnet sulking there – somewhere 'tween Wilde and Baudelaire. La Dolce Vita
by *Leurindal

My face, bur... ocean's palmsMy face, buried in the ocean's palms
I glimpse with bitterness and remorse the saucer you used to leave
unwashed, in the sink,
before brushing my lips with a kiss and rushing off to work without a word.
I used to
make so large a fuss, 'bout so small a thing.
Now that I'm awash with your absence, waterlogged with wallowing,
my mind a muddled mess - befuddled by
puddles of maudlin mem'ry -
I suffer, alone,

the sea-reaving scythe of bereavement.    My face, bur... ocean's palms
by *Leurindal

La Belle Dame Avec MerciAn elfin lady in the woods, with verdant eyes and scarlet hair, bade me buy her some cheap goods – bread and herbs, all meagre fare. In return, promised the elf – she would help me find my self.
I bought her those and more besides, from our own humble village fair; I rode to where her kind resides, and saw her there astride her mare. She glimpsed me too and off we rode, through winding paths of thyme and woad.
At dusk came we to gurgling linn, in a heaven-scented gladdened glade; Her shoulders shone – so pale, so thin – as she let fall her dress of plaid. She gr La Belle Dame Avec Merci
by *Leurindal

Memento Mori: A SonnetHow joyously shall daisies dally on my grave, when my lifeless husk's laid to rest b'neath the earth. No requiem should resound, no lament should crave to console the droning dusk, long b'reft of mirth. Let me rather dwindle away in crumbly loam, replenishing the dust from which I was woven. Down there I'll rot, 'mong life's sinewy rhizome, my bones rusted relics for some wiccan coven. But not e'en the humid humus will drown out the moans and hums of maenads' orgies in the mist. Somnolent lilies won't avail to cease their rout, as chrysanthemums huddle close in florid tryst. &n Memento Mori: A Sonnet
by *Leurindal

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Critiques

A winter - once held so lovingly in her eyes - has disappeared for the sake of spring, that drops and dances upon this earth without her heart's consent and clads the very naked soil, gives pride to heaven that dwells in skies, and this is beautiful. For who knew that a flower's simple scent could translate the silence of her hope, and make her prayers sit upon the wings of butterflies? But in all grand bliss there is a risk: when wings flap, the prayers slip, and though the soft spring-coloured veil
does hide from her this truth, she holds on to

When sadness smiles.

by *LoveHealsYou725

Farah, sorry it took me so long to give you some feedback on this one. This critique will be a bit short (sorry, so busy!) but I don�...

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Queer taste of sleep spit lingers. Grease and uprights form pyramids slant outwards from my burnt face after one blush, thousand blush, tired of embarrassment. I am the anti-father figure by being anti-mother figure
through my love of summer naps with arms out in lines not folded, love of all mud or grimy galleons gifted with such presence cruising into port – boats march in.
By title I am the baron’s daughter am his token to be exchanged for some settlement with a hunter and fanged hound for gifts of plenty – gifts of dea

Frog Wife

by ~Ghrey

Hi ghrey! This is a very particular poem, don't think I've ever read seen anything like it. Hope my feedback will be of some...

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anything else

by =GwenavhyeurAnastasia

this poem calls to mind the prevalent friction between innocence and experience - a friction which features with such particular intens...

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The squirrel had been searching for a nut all day and finally he found one sitting precariously on a branch. He clambered up the tree and reached for it but a red leaf drifted down, landing on the nut and knocking it just enough to fall into the pond below.

A Squirrel's Nut

by *Tuttlebird

The image is very idyllic and autumnal; I like it very much. I'd restructure and reword it a little as follows: The squirrel had...

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The pigeon dies but his feathers
never cease to soar the sky, the sea lives on despite
the constant crashing of her waves and autumn leaves know all too well they will never be reborn- but still in hope, they fly and lie
within the wind's womb.
Stars are small but never fear to settle amid the dark and confront the world below about all of our mistakes; mistakes never fear to ask
for the shelter of our hearts, and hearts never fear to be trees that shade from pain.
So great is the will of silent things, but acknowledge

The Great Resolution

by *LoveHealsYou725

here i am! yes, I'd recognize this writing as Farah's writing anytime. This critique will be a bit concise - so much to do! ...

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Jealous spotlights shine down upon us, An envious moon joins the chorus, Of spiteful celestial bodies staring down, "Why" they ask, are they so lonely, While we are held in each others arms; For we are the mighty, the mighty in love. We are touching, without distance, While they are millions of miles above.
A soft embrace shows our reflected skin. we can loiter in the moment we're in. Laying on the earth like two plants taking root. We're entangling our essence; our love is true. Quietening heartbeats, soothing breathing. We know our hearts will never be leav

Under the Stars.

by *Emyylii

This is a beautiful poem! There is still room for improvement, but a show of promising talent nonetheless! The first stanza employs an...

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*rlkirkland
Nov 22, 2009
4:27 pm

=insanewalk
Nov 22, 2009
3:45 pm

~MirachRavaia
Nov 22, 2009
3:18 pm

~MeAsTheNarrator
Nov 22, 2009
3:08 pm

~Chali90
Nov 22, 2009
11:13 am

Watchers

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A general... update?

Sun Nov 22, 2009, 2:44 PM

Hello all,

Time for a good update, some announcements and the usual round of features!

- *aillesdors is holding a contest - [link] - closing date: 25th November - hurry!

- =insanewalk is holding a Christmas-themed contest titled 'My Snowman Melted' - [link] - check it out, plenty of time for this one!

- =Scarlettletters's contests are also up and running - entries are being accepted as you read! Two themes: 'The Nightmare before Christmas' and 'the Colors of Christmas'. Please check it out here: [link]

Features:

- Take a look at this lovely project by

It's a cycle of poems about Caravaggio - let all Art enthusiasts behold this rendition of the artist's life!

- I've also encountered a most lovely traditional artist in the past weeks:

. Some of her paintings, including a fantastic interpretation of the Greek muse of tragedy, Melpomene, are:

- Other recently encountered instant favs:

________________________________________ __________________

Lastly, thank you to all those who have been reading/faving/commenting on my work. It's greatly appreciated

Thanks also to the lovely judges and contest organizers that have directly/indirectly contributed to the 15-month membership I currently have. Your appreciation of my sestina was very encouraging!

In other news, I might be leaving dA soon. Sometimes I get weary of the poetry-sharing part. Most of my poems seem to be better off at the bottom of a drawer, devouring the darkness. I'm disliking pretty much all of my work, and don't like how dependent I'm becoming on others' feedback. Besides, I'm pretty pressed and don't have much time to read your poetry. I repeatedly end up having to ignore most of the deviations. Sorry if any among them belonged to you, reader.

But anyway, that decision lies yet ahead of me.

Take care, folks!

Leonard

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Mood: Yearning

Skin by `ginkgografix

deviantID

Ye who seek to grasp the nature of my race
Behold the elven soul, not my human face!

...in other words... could you take a look at my poetry, please?

Devious Info

Current Residence: Kirkop, Malta
Interests: Literature, art, music, philosophy, fantasy, medicine, humanity
Favourite movie: The Shawshank Redemption, Forrest Gump, The Illusionist (among others)
Favourite band or musician: Mostly Autumn, Nightwish, Muse
Favourite genre of music: Rock
Favourite artist: Da Vinci, El Greco, Munch
Favourite poet or writer: Keats, Tolkien
Favourite style of art: Expressionism
Wallpaper of choice: autumn woods
Favourite game: Neverwinter Nights
Personal Quote: "Li tkun orrajt m'hix virtu' "