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Literature
Going Home
Going Home
My years slip by in suitcases I've had since I was nine,
But I don't have much to carry as I cross this borderline.
My life's been in transition; I'm not used to being mine,
But now I think it's time for movin' on.
So I sit here in this terminal as the seconds trickle down.
The departure board clicks softly as it turns my life around.
Though doubt roars through my body, I can hardly make a sound
I exhale – soon I'll be long gone.
So farewell my autumn mountains and friends I'll long to see.
Your love will last in photographs I'll cherish tenderly,
And if home is where the heart is, then my home will follow me,
But for now, au revoir États-Unis.
Now the plane coasts down the runway;
I'm caught between the lights -
I don't know the path I'm taking yet
But it's gotta turn out right.
So I'll unpack all these suitcases – I don't need them anymore.
Free space will come in handy as I walk that other shore.
And I don't need all this baggage: I've got strength deep in
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 2 6
Literature
Fireworks
You're the first to call me lovely
And the last to call me yours.
Keep saying that you love me
Safe behind your bolted doors.
And baby when you kiss me
It's like Fourth of July,
But you don't say that you miss me
And you're always on the fly.
It's fireworks baby, ooh,
That brief burst of color
Fades out too soon.
What began with a whimper's
Gotta end with a boom
But they're gone before morning
Oh, just like you.
They're just like you babe.
You're like a broken faucet –
Always runnin' hot and cold.
Bought a ring but then you lost it
That's the story that you told.
And now I'm growin' weary
Of your firecracker spark:
Get lightheaded when you're near me
Then I get left in the dark.
It's fireworks baby, ooh,
That brief burst of color
Fades out too soon.
What began with a whimper's
Gotta end with a boom
But they're gone before morning
Just like you.
It's not that I don't like you;
I don't wanna hurt your pride,
But baby, if you want me
Then you've gotta, you've gotta decide
Is it firew
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 3 20
Literature
May
May walks softly in ballerina's shoes,
she's a morning-glow goddess with nothing to lose,
and she's got a secret, but she can't sing the blues,
so she comes and she goes
and I wanna know what she knows.
I wanna know what she knows.
Saw her lying last night in a sliver of moon,
scent of white wine and honey and jasmine perfume –
she asked me "why are the good things always over so soon?"
'cause she comes and she goes
I wanna know what she knows!
I wanna know what she knows!
I said "May, what's this secret you've been holdin' so close,
curled up in your fingers like the bud of a rose?
Your eyes burn like cinders – they're so broken and it shows
that you come, you you go,
and God, I wanna know what you know,
I wanna know what you know."
She said "it's that first glance of wonder; it's a kiss in the rain;
it's the smell of the thunder and the taste of champagne;
it's the banner we march under and it's drivin' us insane
watch it come, let it go,
Oh they all wanna know what I know,
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 16 17
Literature
Fertility
Heavy humidity presses her bone-thin limbs into patient, breathing soil
filling her footprints with earth-soaked scent.
Surrounded by wind pregnant with round, young droplets
so similar to the dull crimson rush of false fertility that streams from her,
She wonders if she is not so different from the rain
that threatens to split the seams of the billowing black,
waiting,
wanting to be born.
:iconaillesdors:aillesdors
:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 1 2
Literature
Remembering
Grass-stained kneecaps and dirty fingernails:
she, in her innocence,
catches the chorused murmurs of an ocean of cerulean
weed-blossoms and fulfills their deepest desire,
remembering.
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 4 4
Literature
Une Lamentation
I adore your dental occlusives,
your gentle vowels
your whirling, liquid r's.
My mouth pines for the softness of your phonemes,
the clarity of your graphemes,
the distinct lack of muted schwas.
Oh, I could suck you down like agua de vida,
cleansing my tongue of nasals and uvulars.
Te amo para siempre, español.
Forever. I promise.
But first I must learn German.
:iconaillesdors:aillesdors
:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 2 13
Literature
in little ways
Once,
my tongue hummed with the music of discourse;
phonemes babbled from my cavernous mouth –
a sumptuous river of succulent sound.
I was queen of poetic smiles
and mistress of linguistic foreplay,
your match, your equal, always, (always)
Miss Emily Elizabeth Bennett,
arch, inelegant, blindingly, blossomingly brilliant.  
And I am still.
Except--
now
we speak the language of erasure,
conversing through the painfully present absences,
striking subtext for the sake of the commonest courtesies.
But invisible words still throb beneath the cacophony of silence,
crippling me with their indelible weight:
inflexible, prosaic, final.
And so it goes:
we resignedly flip our pencils and quietly efface ourselves out of existence,
pretending that each stroke of the eraser doesn't shred us apart.
:iconaillesdors:aillesdors
:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 3 7
Fairy Princess by aillesdors Fairy Princess :iconaillesdors:aillesdors 0 10
Literature
Using Her
"He could see Bonzo's anger growing hot. Hot anger was bad. Ender's anger was cold, and he could use it. Bonzo's was hot, and so it used him."
~ Ender's Game
, Orson Scott Card
Her anger does not burn;
it builds, but does not blaze,
volcanic, bubbling from a bottled-up eruption.
No,
her anger frosts warm-blooded limbs
and freezes empathy  mid-sentence,
a measured swell toward mechanical indifference.
Yes,
her anger sinks its vicious fangs into her brain
and turns her ruthless, sets her free
to use those collections of cells how she chooses,
until
an explosion of passion bursts a hole
in her icy, logical veneer and it all escapes
with a pneumatic hiss.
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 0 20
Literature
The Fix
Some days, I picture myself beautiful.
Here is how I fix myself:
First, I must shade myself starving,
penciling each protruding rib poking out
beneath my blemishless skin.
Next, I paint myself invisible,
slathering my limbs with artificial melanin,
softening the sharp facial curves,
smearing cupid's-bow lips with "natural" shades,
lengthening insufficient lashes,
debasing my too-transparent imperfections from existence.
Now! I plastic myself desirable,
trading my smallness for towering splendor,
recasting my rack so no part will be small
(except for my ego, my cunning, my speech).
Behold! I am glory in my naked, rewritten beauty!
I have pictured myself perfect and timeless
and fixed. Forever, fixed.
Look at how pretty I was.
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 3 9
Literature
High Praise
One day he said to me, "I am not gold;
instead, silver – refinement is required.
Those fiery ideals I can't uphold
Will leave me gaunt, with much to be desired.
Gaudy gold implies perfection's gained
and is alone for its high value seen,
is elevated, yet at once disdained
for that mirage reflected by its sheen.
Therefore, like silver treat me as you may,
but leave the golden idols to their kind –
for you might find, one long-awaited day,
Their exultation lies within your mind."
"If you are silver, then I must be, too."
"Higher praise," he smiled, "I never knew."
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 1 11
Literature
Mourning
She's a cheap insight and a simple design;
She's a biased perception, a thin borderline;
She's got  a secret of infinite worth:
She's a runaway native of houses of mirth.
She's a modern-day martyr without a just cause;
She'll bend like a lily to everyone's laws.
She's a master of masks and of innocent guile,
But, oh, how it fails her and cracks with her smile.
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Literature
An Execution
Pushing past the gauzy, trembling veil of half-consciousness,
I breathe myself back into the waking world.
Before my knot-tight muscles flex, feline, in their ritual reach for the ceiling,
a lazy glance drinks him in where he sits,
nestled contentedly in the realms of fantasy,
playing General to an slovenly army of pixels.
"Good mornings" are exchanged in a pair of lissome smiles,
and I arch myself, loosening my bunched-up fibers little by little,
before my traitor eyes tug me back to him.
They've got that look again, frail, turncoat spheres,
that look that wrenches open my tough binding,
allowing him to read me,
read me down through my very first draft.
His "what is it?" spills (hap)hazardously
from half-parted lips stretched in a backward grin;
rhetoric catches me hard beneath the breastbone,
sends me reeling while my twin deserters
defect back to me. Dampened by chagrin,
they plead their wordless case feebly.
He approaches softly, his ever-radiant concern
dwarfe
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 1 21
Literature
Corruption
She was a being built for burgundy:
Meadowed eyes, twilit cheeks, starsheen lips
and a head threaded redgold, rumpelstiltskinesque.
She had it all –
her willowwalk, her larksong, and (ohgod) that
daybroken smile.
Ohyes. Yes.
She was built for the burgundy
that hung proud and loose from her birch-white limbs.
He'd dressed her in it, cruel Fox.
He knew what bloodblush does to girls like her.
Oh. God. Yes.
He knew.
At least she kept her daybroken smile.
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Literature
the let down
Once, in the transient days of daisychains,
she wore her honey-gold threads loosed
around skeletal shoulders, to flap free and feral,
caught by thin fingers of wind.
Sixth grade bound her silk-strands up tight
and tasteful at the back of her cranium,
a swinging testament to maturity:
no more loves-me-not garlands or buttercupped chins.
Now, she keeps her fraying collection of knots tamed,
tied back like a wild, desperate creature thinned and beaten
down to nothing but bare, spindly bones.
Imprisoned, her lengthening locks still remember freedom.
Still yearning to spin sunlight into the in-between spaces,
still straining to catch the scent of daisies steeped in rainwater,
they wait, breathless, for the day she'll let herself down.
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:iconaillesdors:aillesdors 0 26
Literature
Control
I beat
a miscellaneous collection of red-and-blue vessels
rushing (myself) with liquid oxygen;
I lash
laced muscles' (suffocating) corset-strings
around thin, pearly-polished bone;
I stretch
a tight pattern of nerve (wracked) hungry skin
over an arching frame;
I breathe
my body slow and deep, gasping (breaking)
from my very core and
I cry
(out) to Heaven: "you cannot have me,
I am mine."
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Critiques

Random Favourites

Literature
To entertain . v
Knick Knack Paddy Wack
Give the dog a bone
See the clown so clumsy,
upon a rainbow throne
Shoes too big, smile too wide
Cold and callous, drunk inside
Come to see, my children now
And once is done, take a bow
Within my grin of gauzy threads,
beats encased, stone cold dead
Lipstick smeared, of finest kind
Deal is done, blood contract signed
Knick Knack, out of Wack
Give the clown a bone
See the soul so dainty,
upon an ice cold throne
:iconYneis:Yneis
:iconyneis:Yneis 1 32
Literature
Rising
Don’t look away
I can sharpen your eyes,
With a misplaced mumble.
I silently compose
Some strange future
Where I didn’t have to beg or
Tunnel in icy crusts
Of your sorrows.
Where I can trace the heavens,
Your hand in mine. I wait
Wet to the bone from your rain
Checks. Yet your comfort comes
Strained like a leaky faucet--
monosyllabic drips.
To whom now,
Should I take my dry
Open palms?
You surround yourself
With irrelevant people,
Non-issues.
I surround myself
With the absence of you.
now just a vase of flowers--
good intentions
but neglect has left my blooms
crumpled, brown struggling gasps.
So,
I will leave
Water behind
For fire.
I will hang myself
out to dry
in blinding morning light.
I will bathe in wine,
And wrap myself in wisteria,
Laughing as wisps of flame
Engulf my doubts.
My heart, marmoreal,
I will breathe out,
Smoke in sighs. And though
Unrequited Dreams
may linger in my eyes,
I will turn my face to
The Godstar,
my cries becoming dust.
Rising with the wind,
The on
:iconathenea8788:athenea8788
:iconathenea8788:athenea8788 2 3
. Saint Cross IV . by trocker . Saint Cross IV . :icontrocker:trocker 692 135 Enchanted - Giselle by Katikut Enchanted - Giselle :iconkatikut:Katikut 9,895 1,108 Le Bosquet de la Reine by Katikut
Mature content
Le Bosquet de la Reine :iconkatikut:Katikut 1,795 225
Literature
BROADCAST
Broadcast
CNN, what is your word today?
My mind feels blank, empty.
CNN, what is the weather today?
105 in Baghdad.
CNN, I can't watch you this week.
The scepter of power
Was crushed under my brother's seat.
Gone was your voice, your soothing scroll of words
Somehow, I felt naked.
CNN, I need my gospel.
The newspaper is not fast enough.
CNN, what cruel violence has
the World unleashed on Us?
CNN, I'm back
The world is falling apart.
I see death on the television
The bird of sickness squawks in Bangkok.  
Will I go outside?
Brave the poisonous world?
Pedophiles hide in my closet
Kim-Jong-Il is in the dining room.
Skin cancer might shine down on me
A van could growl and eat me.
My neighbors could be sipping meth
And there's a  faint possibility of my car blowing up on me.
I'm scared, CNN, scared; I have no rudder, no gas.
There's a season outside
And I don't know if that's bad.
CNN, I took the chance.
I stepped outside when it could kill me.
Silence. And birds.
:iconUntitledRoadWay:UntitledRoadWay
:iconuntitledroadway:UntitledRoadWay 3 3
Literature
Our biology
Xylem, Phylem
Cerebral
Palsy
Oestrogen, Progesterone
Bio
Genesis
Diaphram, Dopamine
Cystic
Fibrosis
Examination, Explotation
Exponential
Growth
Kwashiokor, Quadrats
Kidney
Dialysis
Gamete, Zygote
X
Y
-ou
:iconYneis:Yneis
:iconyneis:Yneis 4 4
kitt by juno87 kitt :iconjuno87:juno87 6 5 Arianna by Aiko-Phoenix Arianna :iconaiko-phoenix:Aiko-Phoenix 11 35 cheetara by saltygirl cheetara :iconsaltygirl:saltygirl 373 58 in white by jenah in white :iconjenah:jenah 10 8 Callie by chelseyissilly Callie :iconchelseyissilly:chelseyissilly 3 4 Soon by valeriemonthuit Soon :iconvaleriemonthuit:valeriemonthuit 1,012 105 The Good Ship House MD by EverythingHouseMD The Good Ship House MD :iconeverythinghousemd:EverythingHouseMD 1,386 353
Literature
Don't
Turn to the side
Let the sun shine
On the worn fuselage
Of false pretense
Watch them sneer sideways
Jekyll and Hyde, hiding
From blinded eyes but
Staring at you
Sink into the deep
Gasp for air that's
Not quite, nearly, there
Sinking further down
Hide from your demons
Scream obscenities in hope
Of scaring them away
Don't touch me
The blood burns your
Tongue, as you try
To suck the pain
Away from there
Tears like rain cool
You, staring into the
Distant past, or maybe
The finer future?
:iconYneis:Yneis
:iconyneis:Yneis 1 2

Activity


deviantID

aillesdors
Emily
Artist
United States
English is my life. What else is there to say?

Current Residence: Mansfield
Favourite genre of music: Celtic, Folk, Classical, Choral
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Shell of choice: None
Favourite cartoon character: Cheetara - Thundercats
Personal Quote: Life is trying, so I'll try
Interests
I completely apologize for being so absent lately. A lot as been going on in my life and for whatever reason the poetry has just... not being coming. Which is a very sad state of affairs but I'm having some trouble fixing it. I am, however, working on another little project which is channeling my creativity, the first installment of which can be found here: I would put this up in my account but I haven't figured out how yet.

I will (hopefully) be back into full swing soon!

~ Emily
  • Listening to: Momentum
  • Reading: The World in a Phrase - A History of the Aphorism
  • Watching: Nothing
  • Playing: Nothing
  • Eating: Nothing
  • Drinking: Raspberry green tea

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconwaywardsaint:
WaywardSaint Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
I checked my dA for the first time in four years. Ha. I have no idea if you're still around, but ... hi? 
Reply
:iconlifeuncommon:
lifeuncommon Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2012
:cake:
Reply
:iconlifeuncommon:
lifeuncommon Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2012
Hi Emily! Your birthday's coming up and believe it or not I scored some duplicate books for my birthday last year and you're the only person I "know" who would appreciate them.

When you pop back in feel free to send me a private message, I'd love to post them to you.
Reply
:iconaillesdors:
aillesdors Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2012
Oh that would be fantastic! (I'm sorry it took me so long to respond; as usual I've been off an on this site, although I AM still writing poetry! I just haven't posted it in a long time because I'm toying with the idea of trying to publish some of it, and I'm not sure if posting it up on dA will render it unpublishable.) What are you up to, by the way?
Reply
:iconlifeuncommon:
lifeuncommon Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2012
The majority of places do only publish original pieces, that is, those that haven't appeared on the Internet or anywhere else before. However I've been submitting to journals and anthologies that do publish the previously published. I just have to sort through and find them. That and I'm doing what you're doing, keeping some of the newer ones offline to increase my options.

See private message!
Reply
:iconaillesdors:
aillesdors Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2012
I just need to figure out which ones to keep offline and which to put up. I'm actually editing some of my old work and since the older drafts are already up here anyway, it probably wouldn't hurt to stick them back up.

You know what we should do? We should have a little writing group, email-style. That way we can look over things without falling victim to the "you published this one the internet" BS.
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconlifeuncommon:
lifeuncommon Featured By Owner Sep 15, 2011
Great to hear from you again! :glomp:
Reply
:iconrandom-kumquats:
random-kumquats Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2011  Student Writer
happy birthday!
Reply
:iconaillesdors:
aillesdors Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2011
Why thank you!
Reply
:iconmadprincefeanor:
MadPrinceFeanor Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2011  Professional Writer
Happy Birthday!!! :party::cake::airborne::boogie:
Reply
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