War of the HallsA great hall, dusty, shadowed and lightHarbored much more than the cobwebs and bats of an abandoned sanctuary, One brought back to life by those who fight, Those who shed the blood of their foes, not by choice, but more on orders, No mercy for the lives of others.A girl, clad in a shroud of shadows, stepped forth to sing her fate, A light in the dark, challenged by the woman; Whose feline heart did ring with pride oer from the side of the wolf, Sister to one fought before, sister to the one whose mercy spared a life, A woman of grace, power and feline wisdom, The battle between the cat and girlHad only just begun.
Why.Fingers twinge, numb and cold, entwined for warmthBody trembling from the chill of ice, the heavy pull of sleepEyes hooded, rimmed dark and despairing, full of worry, Full of translucent skies, stormy oceans, and the cold slates of ice.A body bent double, shouldering the burdens of others, Trailing unchained irons, choosing the path of one who listens, One who has to be there, one who has to worry, Why? Is there a point? Falling, falling, so tired, must sleep, But will sleep come to claim this wearied person, Capture them from the bonds of reality?Would one so small really make that big a difference? Would this one so
.A thousand hurts, bleeding and broken, Fragile heart torn by the thorns of a blood red rose; Small girl whose pale face shines with tears, silent in the fading light, Her words silenced by the crushing hurts.Breathing not a word she sits alone, surrounded by the medleys of sorrow, Unkempt and shattered in the lonely chill of darkness; Numb, yet so hurt, over something so small, The cold wont help this time, no; the cold shant take it all away.There is no cure; there is no medicine for the hurts, No kiss will make it better; love is what hurt the most, Leaden heart no longer beats truly, yet it goes on, just for
What is Art? - Essay What is art? How does our perception of what we might call art differ from another person? Does it possess a specific function or meaning? Can we really look at something and call it art? All these questions can be asked, as can many more when actually looking into what mankind perceives as art, yet many of them are completely unanswerable, as most humans have their own perception on what art can be classified as. Humans use art a lot, whether it be in their heritage, or everyday lives; stories passed down through cultures, tagged walls on a city block, or a painting on a wall; each can be called art in its own way! What is art
Punishment.Body trembling, frozen, cast away in the throes of uncertainty, I decided to try and purge the sin from my body, tried to whiten the black streaks;Skyclad frame pressed against wall, trying desperately to save some warmth, As a cold cascade of rain threatens to choke the life from my limbsA wave of trembles and shivers erupted over me, throwing me farther and farther from the light And closer and closer to uncertainty.The music of the droplets on glass, rings louder and louder in my ears; Block it out, have to, need to, hands pressed down, granting me silence, Eyes squeezed tightly shut; needing the world to stop the spinning.
Please sign up or login to post a critique.
The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork
Please sign up or login to post a critique.