And We Thought of Her as Beautiful by Veritas-et-Caritas, literature
Literature
And We Thought of Her as Beautiful
Her skin is sandpaper,
So we likened her untouchable.
Callousness made up her tongue and throat,
So we liken her unspeakable.
Malicious for her manicure,
Disappointment for her pedicure,
And we wondered why she had even bothered.
She replaced her sinews and calves
With gall,
And perfected her bosom with deception.
Her neck and hair, she flushed with vanity.
(And intentionally misplaced her heart)
Her tendons strung embitterment,
The bones of Iron, so that they may not break,
And her entirety perfumed with histrionic fragrance.
And we said perhaps this is too far.
So she rouged her cheeks and legs,
With naivety and shadowed he
You were here with me, today.
We crept along the cedar glade
and spied that pine plum thing.
You spoke of that old battle
and stories of the Civil War.
I listened, quiet, images imagining.
You remarked Tennessee was pretty,
but Idaho more heavenly dignity.
And I, the Tennessean, most pointedly disagreed.
I turned and saw the place where you should be,
realizing your presence only Heinsburg uncertainty
and that truly you are miles and miles away from me.
Remembers, Remembering by Veritas-et-Caritas, literature
Literature
Remembers, Remembering
Remember the seven brothers
(or was it seven swans)
Whose sister, silent seven years
Weaved seven shirts, coarse cloth
And saved seven souls in her endeavor
(or was it swans?)
The seventh son, the youngest one
Swears, the second sleeve
Of the seventh shirt (his particularly)
Was missing. In its place
(replacing it)
The wing of the seventh swan.
His sight smoky (cloudy)
Seeing still in swan
Remembers, remembering
Shaded, slanted memories
Of shadowed stilettos
Remembers she, the swan.
The missing second sleeve
Of the seventh shirt, the scar
And he, the seventh one,
Wishes, wishing
For sleeves
(or was it wings?)
And We Thought of Her as Beautiful by Veritas-et-Caritas, literature
Literature
And We Thought of Her as Beautiful
Her skin is sandpaper,
So we likened her untouchable.
Callousness made up her tongue and throat,
So we liken her unspeakable.
Malicious for her manicure,
Disappointment for her pedicure,
And we wondered why she had even bothered.
She replaced her sinews and calves
With gall,
And perfected her bosom with deception.
Her neck and hair, she flushed with vanity.
(And intentionally misplaced her heart)
Her tendons strung embitterment,
The bones of Iron, so that they may not break,
And her entirety perfumed with histrionic fragrance.
And we said perhaps this is too far.
So she rouged her cheeks and legs,
With naivety and shadowed he
You were here with me, today.
We crept along the cedar glade
and spied that pine plum thing.
You spoke of that old battle
and stories of the Civil War.
I listened, quiet, images imagining.
You remarked Tennessee was pretty,
but Idaho more heavenly dignity.
And I, the Tennessean, most pointedly disagreed.
I turned and saw the place where you should be,
realizing your presence only Heinsburg uncertainty
and that truly you are miles and miles away from me.
Remembers, Remembering by Veritas-et-Caritas, literature
Literature
Remembers, Remembering
Remember the seven brothers
(or was it seven swans)
Whose sister, silent seven years
Weaved seven shirts, coarse cloth
And saved seven souls in her endeavor
(or was it swans?)
The seventh son, the youngest one
Swears, the second sleeve
Of the seventh shirt (his particularly)
Was missing. In its place
(replacing it)
The wing of the seventh swan.
His sight smoky (cloudy)
Seeing still in swan
Remembers, remembering
Shaded, slanted memories
Of shadowed stilettos
Remembers she, the swan.
The missing second sleeve
Of the seventh shirt, the scar
And he, the seventh one,
Wishes, wishing
For sleeves
(or was it wings?)
The Bright Side of Dyslexia by BatmanWithBunnyEars, literature
Literature
The Bright Side of Dyslexia
I was born with auditory dyslexia.
I once heard of someone who wrote, directed, and coastguard in their own movie.
I knew what the right word was, but it still got me thinking:
About the invigorating music of waves crashing against my vessel,
The challenge of serving to the best of my skills,
The pride of keeping the shores of my homeland safe.
That was how I found my career,
And it's been just as rewarding as I had hoped.
An episode of CSI mentioned literature marks on the vic's neck,
Which inspired a fulfilling side project of poetry.
In a later CSI, taunts were exchanged:
"I'm the king of the jingle here!
She clothes herself in poetry,
seals her skin within the verse.
Each line becomes another garment
that conceals her fixed form's curvature,
but peels away when read.
Last night I dissected a stanza,
clamped it tight between my teeth
and tugged it down her legs.
Her body breathes warm and sweet,
speckled red like a summer strawberry field.
I sucked the juice from her lines and
spit the punctuation like seeds.
My lips mouthed the shape of her words
as my skin grew more sticky with
every splash of imagery dripping down my chin.
I peeled apart her soft pages
with sticky, pink fingertips that left them
clinging to my skin.
A sing
In a proper Catholic church, everything echoes. Any sound uttered within the building bounces of the floor and the walls and the high, vaulted ceilings, so much so that I imagine that they could easily reach the ears of God himself. It's a rather poetic thought, the voices of mere mortals ringing towards Heaven with the help of good acoustics, but that thought's tempered by the fact that it includes every single noise: the coughs of emphysemic old men, the rustling of an impatient young girl's dress, and the taps of even the softest rubber-soled sneakers are no exception. On rainy days like this one, those shoes tend to squeak, which probably
We, Veritas et Caritas (Truth and love), are an artistic couple who collabrate to create art. Most of our pieces are calligraphy drawings. Eventually we hope to take commissions and sell pieces. As for now please comment and critique!
To reach us outside of deviantART, please use
veritasetcaritas.business@gmail.com
Thank you! And we are excited about joining the deviant art community!
love, Veritas <3
Current Residence: Somewhere between the Purple Mountains and Shining Seas Personal Quote: "Mapco! Oh wait, I'm a BP"
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
Gorillaz, Pink Martini
Favourite Writers
Ray Bradbury
Tools of the Trade
Quills, Calligraphy Pens, Ink, Spray Paint, Food! (and a cheap camera phone)
Hello!
Caritas and I have been experimenting if you notice all the fun space paints. Caritas is also a phenomenal cook (I wish you could eat his delicious cuisine! Pictures just aren't enough!) I hope you enjoy all our new deviations!
<3
Veritas