April's Diamonds

[Ganyu]

10. Hate
River of rancor bursts forth,
dam broken.
Vitriolic venom
corrodes through the land,
seething like a caustic cauldron
that boils with blood and bile,
fumes of malevolence spread
their asphyxiating arms,
like a plague of locusts,
the vindictive storm raging,
Death and destruction run rampant.

[Chibi Altaria]

Either I'm counting wrong, or you went straight from seven to nine. xD POOR NUMBER EIGHT.

Any time I see something PMD related I instantly tear up. ;n; That was pretty! Good job. <3

[Trainer17]

10. Hate
River of rancor bursts forth,
dam broken.
Vitriolic venom
corrodes through the land,
seething like a caustic cauldron
that boils with blood and bile,
fumes of malevolence spread
their asphyxiating arms,
like a plague of locusts,
the vindictive storm raging,
Death and destruction run rampant.

Sent from my SM-G901F using Tapatalk

[Ganyu]

Either I'm counting wrong, or you went straight from seven to nine. xD POOR NUMBER EIGHT.

Any time I see something PMD related I instantly tear up. ;n; That was pretty! Good job. <3

OMG I left out a poem. D: Thanks for noticing; I may not even have realized...

PMD is so emotional; it's a vast source of poetic inspiration.

Sent from my SM-G901F using Tapatalk

[Suicune's Fire]

I can just see you doing this and it's amazing.

I absolutely loved #9 and #10. The one about writing was relatable; I loved how you included all of those fonts! XD Brilliant. I especially liked this line: "Where saints are sinners and sinners are saved." Very nice.

The one about hate was awesome. I can certainly relate to that one as well. It's such a complex emotion. Well, I suppose all emotions are complicated to a degree, but hate seems to have layers, breaking points, and such power. It's so easy to feel it sometimes, and other times, so difficult. Anyway, I loved how it was written. <: You're truly a master with words, my liege!

[Ganyu]

11. For Myself
Writing is such a lonely craft.
No one seems to understand
or be able to fully appreciate
the words in their true form.
I have to defend my walls of words
from the impositions slung by the masses
from the stinging nettles of nitpickers
who dare to challenge the grammar when they cannot fathom what is structure
and what is irony and subversion – chaos with purpose.
Critics will spend years and years squabbling
over the slightest symbol, crafting theories and theses
that amount to nothing but what ifs;
breeding superficial intellect like mosquitos in mere.
To defend is my raison d'etre
taking a leaf out of William Zinsser.

Added in the missing poem too.

[Ganyu]

12. I'm Trying To Be Serious
Can't you tell?
When I ring the bell,
I mean to address
Under duress.
Face straight
blank slate.
Whitened knuckles
hold back chuckles.
Conceal.
Don't feel.
Be like the ice queen,
Let no emotion be seen.
Speaking the vernacular,
Jargon so spectacular
no one can decipher.
Well, me neither.
Sleight of hand,
Legerdemain,
smoke and mirrors
of modern sorcerers.
Vertigo in black and white,
Language that's so trite;
Makes your mind a muddle,
a cloudy cerebral puddle,
Addled by too much information,
Driven to discombobulation.

A/N: It's weird and probably insensible, I know. The prompt was to write a serious and/or silly poem so I took the toughest challenge which was making it both serious and silly. xD I doubt I pulled it off though.

13. Last Hour
At the toll of the midnight bell,
the day crumbles away,
as the iron gates are shut
and the drawbridge lifted.
The fortress is still in the dark,
Patiently waiting for what is to come.

Every night, within the walls,
a mother can tuck her children into bed.
A man can return home to a warm meal and bed.
Girls can walk the streets without fear,
Boys can run up and down, and roam freely.
They can all sleep peacefully and wake up
to a new tomorrow full of rising hope.

Every night, within the walls,
the sounds of the monsters outside can be heard.
Ominous creaks, splashes in the murky deep of the moat,
persistent scratching, growls, guttural noises.
We take up our blades,
Light and steel are our allies,
Our armaments against the dark.
We never rest. We never sleep.
Always out of sight
but in everyone's mind.
We keep watch
For in Man's last hours,
no one else will.

14. Time Out
I am horizontal
finally. After what seems like eternity
though in reality, five days of drudgery,
my body and soul finds respite
in a mattress sanctuary.
The sky breaks out a sigh above me,
planting kisses of clouds on my cheeks,
the earth is my pillow, my bed and my spine.
Bolster me against the doldrums of life,
Hide me in the bastion of dreams.
A rock in the river of time
slowly eroded by the currents;
Falling into slumber, I am now dust.

[Ganyu]

15. Material Girl
My man in black
loved to lavish,
making it rain
green paper
all over my brolly.
He gave me gaudy, fantasy, and Gucci,
He gave me rings, diamonds and jewelry,
He gave me Louboutins and Givenchy.
I was Opulence;
He was Providence.
I was the Pearl of the Far East,
living in la ville de l'amour,
within my palace of dreams.
He was the desert, the hot sun,
and when he left, the oasis
was but a mirage and my empire
lost to the sands of time.


A/N: The challenge was to incorporate somehow the words ring, gaudy, lavish and paper.

[Ganyu]

16. Concept Cafe
Blossom of cream on liquid brown,
Rainbow trapped in a flour fantasy,
Pancakes coated in sugary ichor,
Coloured snow with fruit purée.
Looks too unreal to be eaten
like a painting of Mona Lisa
only to be seen, not touched.
pixel-framed and preserved
for posterity's view through
noir-tinted glasses and hipster filters.

17. Haiku
syllable-counting
just to write about nature–
such rigidity

additional since I was bored:
how to write haikus:
five-seven-five is the form–
get it right people.

[Ganyu]

18. Overtime
From nine to five,
noise is my ambience.
Clattering computer keys,
endlessly ringing phones,
machines that spit out inked paper
are the bass and rhythm to drudgery–
the clerical clarion call.

After opening hours,
the busy sea of bureaucracy
is now to a drop of quiet
whereas the paper mountain on-desk
is now the alps of administration.
My ambience is now that lone light
in the darkness, and the late-night thoughts of takeaway stewing at the back of my mind.

19. Trying To Be Cool
drinking iced beer
rising body temperature
to a fever of passion
skin flushes scarlet with
blood of the pumping fist
hurled against cheekbones
glass shards on the floor
tables toppled in the arena
the gladiators' glory and gore
broken teeth are medals of gold
laurels tattooed in blue and black
mint julep testosterone
another boys' night out spent
behind bars

20. Telepathy
Breathe, don't speak,
Our eyes meet.
The thought forms in your mind
and diffuses like a bubble
drifting through space
into cerebral collection.
Astral communion,
we need no words,
experience ties us tighter
than material bonds and blood
and we are of the same covenant
soul-sworn, life-linked.
We are Gemini.