simplytheromanticistdoris

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

A Mother

She, molded by the flesh of the earth,

Ever so genteel her mother makes of her,

Her hips are tender and soft for birthing,

Her bosom of blossom meant for herding.

She, a flower growing by the loam,

Needless to say, soon she ought to be deflowered,

For what is her fate? But be picked and wreated,

Bear more seeds across the barren mead.

Ornamentally she be feisty she might,

But pests will wear her tight,

And yet she let not but cradle her seedlings by,

Before she withers gliding by the ocean like sky.

Is it not that she is meant for spawning life?

But revered she is not but reduced with a smite,

Clumps of earth she bears barely to survive,

Pests sipping her dry while her little seedlings are hiding by.

Maelstrom and what may struck her to die,

She may plummet and bend by the cry of the sky,

Devoured by the roaming creatures at the time,

But all is well so long for her seedling to soar,

The beauty she never had to explore.

For what is a daughter but to be a mother,

When begot from the woes of her earthly mother,

Tragedy is it? But a bliss at the same time.

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

'Disaster to me is opposed to the idea of singularity that pertains to a dull, and prosaic community. Disaster, my friend, is many and not one. Therefore, unique.'

A mess shall we be, strange and peculiar we shall be teased but never an un-shredded paper to be and to be, nor the prosaic artwork of society!

We are of a collage, shredded to pieces we find our way to make ourselves into an imperfect harmony, and yet mingling about with diversity, for are we not just humans shaped by the ample variation of our utmost florid experiences? Making us transparent, too, like a glass shattered, and paced back as light will follow illuminating our nature iridescently about, surely, decorating life as we speak to and from.

P.S. Credit to the artist (the artwork, below)

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

A Mother

She, molded by the flesh of the earth,

Ever so genteel her mother makes of her,

Her hips are tender and soft for birthing,

Her bosom of blossom meant for herding.

She, a flower growing by the loam,

Needless to say, soon she ought to be deflowered,

For what is her fate? But be picked and wreated,

Bear more seeds across the barren mead.

Ornamentally she be feisty she might,

But pests will wear her tight,

And yet she let not but cradle her seedlings by,

Before she withers gliding by the ocean like sky.

Is it not that she is meant for spawning life?

But revered she is not but reduced with a smite,

Clumps of earth she bears barely to survive,

Pests sipping her dry while her little seedlings are hiding by.

Maelstrom and what may struck her to die,

She may plummet and bend by the cry of the sky,

Devoured by the roaming creatures at the time,

But all is well so long for her seedling to soar,

The beauty she never had to explore.

For what is a daughter but to be a mother,

When begot from the woes of her earthly mother,

Tragedy is it? But a bliss at the same time.

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

💐☘️🪻

At The Moment

Simplicity at its finest, my dear friends, of no grandiose unfoldings nor clamoring mouths crashing on the scene, only the sing-song encore of pattering birds lulling the wind, ah, by the elderly tree; it is only me gazing at the sun as it crashes into golden smithereens, paving the world into a golden dream, stripping itself into utmost nudity, its bare beauty overpowering reality, oh, I imagine then, walking upon a meadow green, with iridescent flowers among the crowded wave of grassy green, and brushing my fingers on their soft hue of colorful scheme, as the wind against my figure kisses me deep, wildly it makes of my hair as the sweet zephyr sings me into a voyage of hidden memories, rouse to vitality and I remember then again, once upon I was a child living in a world of bubbles and vivid-like dreams, choosing to play there and about, caring not about the capitalistic view that runs the world to and fro', here and there, until bodies fall, oh! Dust in the wind, a nourishment even, fed to the world their flesh and bones it appears, they of dust therefore a sea of flourished green, stretching upon and forgotten at last. But, I care not, for a moment of peace is amok and limited I fear, so I permit the wind to fill me with a jar of breeze, to allow its wild doings on my face and let me feel the feels, and strip me to vulnerability, to show me, of what the world could've been; a nursery for paradise, bearing fruit to kind and beautiful gifts transcending the means to go beyond God, but do tell me if he exists.

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

At The Moment

Simplicity at its finest, my dear friends, of no grandiose unfoldings nor clamoring mouths crashing on the scene, only the sing-song encore of pattering birds lulling the wind, ah, by the elderly tree; it is only me gazing at the sun as it crashes into golden smithereens, paving the world into a golden dream, stripping itself into utmost nudity, its bare beauty overpowering reality, oh, I imagine then, walking upon a meadow green, with iridescent flowers among the crowded wave of grassy green, and brushing my fingers on their soft hue of colorful scheme, as the wind against my figure kisses me deep, wildly it makes of my hair as the sweet zephyr sings me into a voyage of hidden memories, rouse to vitality and I remember then again, once upon I was a child living in a world of bubbles and vivid-like dreams, choosing to play there and about, caring not about the capitalistic view that runs the world to and fro', here and there, until bodies fall, oh! Dust in the wind, a nourishment even, fed to the world their flesh and bones it appears, they of dust therefore a sea of flourished green, stretching upon and forgotten at last. But, I care not, for a moment of peace is amok and limited I fear, so I permit the wind to fill me with a jar of breeze, to allow its wild doings on my face and let me feel the feels, and strip me to vulnerability, to show me, of what the world could've been; a nursery for paradise, bearing fruit to kind and beautiful gifts transcending the means to go beyond God, but do tell me if he exists.

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

"If I give you all that I am, the flowers underneath my hem, shall you embrace it or use it like the other kind of men?"

-A.D.A

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Love Tango With Death

A. D.A

A sickly princess sat by the highly leveled window of her isolated castle as if waiting for a prince who would never come, truly pitiful.

Hated by the authorities but loved by the people, yet in the end oh dear princess you were bestowed to die in my hands, shall I make it painless? But shall I have to intervene when death itself is calling for you?

…

“Goddamn, “ I scoffed at the thought, how now, I find myself cuddled in your embrace like a fucking kitten tamed by its master. Fuck, fuck, fuck it’s heaven without having to die.

They say leave her for you will be preordained to the idea of anguish for the woman but I turn away knowing best that I held the heavenly deity in my hands. The velvet red staining her lips and smeared off at the touch of mine, as the pale yet ever so light skin brushed against my calloused figure and a groan that transitions to a whine leaves the very inch of my soul.

It's peculiar but I like the scent you emanate like freshly bought furniture, they say you're a product of sin but every time you speak are sweet strawberries murmured in your mouth to mine. Darling, you're everything that defines beauty and elegance, poetry is the way you talk but wholly you’re a work of art place not in a museum but a shrine where the gods reside and gladly I'll worship you like a madman who's bound to hell.

But I ask oh dear princess “Are you not afraid of the idea of death? Especially that he’s near you now, perhaps just behind your back”

And for a moment I saw the devil in her smile as she proclaimed the dark whispers in her head.

“Why would I feign tremor for the prince I’ve been waiting my whole life.”

Ah, my feather light heart pierced by the thorns of her stem, painstakingly, she had put a choke hold on me, as to welcome me to heaven, only for me to be rid of to hell, reality. How I almost said the most excruciating, thing to bear; I love you.

Oh, how scary a woman is, they’re loaded with words so heavenly from the hell they covert, with their utmost jaw-dropping weapon, their body. I was only a fling to her, a fruit savored by her delicate teeth and tongue, feasting and draining me to the very bits of her satisfaction, till no more can she taste of something until I am but a void.

Like the world had shined no more, with its luminous hopes and pretty valleys, I am forlorn with a withered heart that says no more, but hopelessly in love otherwise. But, as though fate had given me a reason for my misery, I have come to a fruition of resolved, yes. I shall blow her lit life to none, but air. It is my purpose after all! Haha! She too had been my fling, there's no fault to justify when she is but a dying fly, thus I used.

Begrudgingly, I curse her life to hell, the velvet red on her lips no more but a pool of blood she bathes, but blessed in the moonlight she is, minuscule of stardust ornating her demise, oh, how it suits her, death is beautiful upon her.

The denial of love clings to your pride, a sin, for it drives you to the pinnacle of insanity and the contemplation of your actions in hopes that you will find salvation for the predicament you had unto yourself.

“I love you…”

You killed me, though my feelings were genuine, true to the heart, light sipping, have I not showed you?

“I am Death” And, you seek me, have you not?

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

Achilles And Patroclus: Love Between Ashes and Bones; Gods Folly and Quirks (a ballad)

Achilles to Patroclus

I could never be without you, my love, for you are the river I follow, afloat my body venture to you. The black silk of your hair under the doting of mine, your lips amiable to meet mine, and your eyes that see through the depths of my soul, it frets not but outshines.

I, a demi-god am bound to bask in the golden banquet of the gods, but I turn away and decline, for heaven is at dawn at hell, oh, you shall squirm at my touch as I sip the sweet nectar of your dew drop tears, from my folly unashamed tricks.

Let us be lost in the greeny valley of trees, and sit upon its shaded seat, secrecy it shall be, as we talk love and our future dreams, draped in dirt your tunic will be, drenched in life we smell of it, oh, dear, you’re a soul meek and the sweet scent of simplicity;

I find upon you the strength of a measly bird, but within you; the will to change it all. How does it feel to be my soul? To have my heart taken into the depths of the earth? How does it feel to steal my future and all?

I love you, I say, but my pride begs that I stay, it was a mistake, and now, you lay there pierced by the adversary of my fate, oh, the river flowed no more and life tasted like salt, the underworld claimed your soul and I shall follow.

Demise meets the man who claimed your life, his head touring around our great walls, and lamenting upon is all I could do as you smelled like the night of deathly sorts, and, oh, how does it feel to kill me, my love?

My life meets its due and I smelled you; will you greet me with a smile under the ash of this fight? Blood trickles down and my breath pulls out, oh, may my body be burned and reunite with you.

Erebus receives me as the swift-footed fool, for I am no different from the flesh of my kind, just a man, in love. My gaze wonders to find your soul but to no avail, I’m met with void, in between the borders you must be there;

Even death cannot possibly dare, to deprive me of the utmost source why my life is spared. The seasons passed and sang bitter-sweet songs, I waited like a rock devoid of soul, why must fate be so cruel?

Deep is my blue a feeling struck, before me the kindest man stood, silly he looked and confused at most, ah, you fatuous man you made me wait, now come lavish at my embrace!

“What more do I need but for the sole reason that I live and die, oh, my dear Patroclus, my Patroclus.”

Patroclus to Achilles

Golden locks of silk rests on my thighs, as he the fair youth plays on his lyre, his battle-carved fingers strum not the lyre, but my stringed life, for now, I am a piece, a symphony from his musical pile.

He is divine, his radiant hair golden amongst the light, and, oh, his lips lush and plump like life, and across his eyes the kind blue ocean opposed to his mother’s icy guile eyes, that dares choke me with vile.

You're a being dipped from Styx, the strength of hundredths of men but in one shell that represents all fiery admirable might to fend, but what of you my love, when your fate weighs too much upon your life to go on?

You are half of my soul as the poets say, your star dipped next to mine and I shall stay, oh, the onerous fate you weigh I will bear, for you are everything to me and I fear to see you in dismay, I love you wouldn’t you say?

The god they presume you to be, but all I see is a man I can’t let be, under the cosmos we gaze, draped in love we kissed ablaze, no sole rock will break us away, you tasted like everything but the future that has no place.

Wreath my heart to decay, split me in half to see blood spray, but none you get for he is the vitality in my veins, a kind fool lacking wits and trusts guile prompts, but I am half what he is not and I protect our love.

May he bask in the triumph he deserves, and when he tires, we spare some time, and he cuddles in my wing like two peas in a pod as we drift to sleep and dream, and there is a ponder within me that cannot bear to lose this golden-haired man.

I had pleaded with him not to go, but he begged that my life is on the line; a promise to save the dainty fair beauty, oh, we cannot escape our fate, and we march to the relentless eating time, to the Underworld we will bid our time, oh, Achilles, I wished we’ll be fine.

Swift-footed he is in battle and I watch awe in afar, I fear he’ll meet the man that’ll splat blood on his golden locks, please hurry under my touch and assure me sweet love along this bloody path of war.

Across this ghastly war and ruffian rule of men, there lies you dancing among the wolves and hooded sheep we called friends, they wait for you to die but like a god you prevailed, the wind uttered favor, oh, you couldn’t possibly look more graceful the hero of this battle.

But alas akin to you a thing named pride, it rivaled my full pledged love and I lost to its qualms, and you bade war alone to suffer whose won, but the tide had turned and we pace aback, oh, we’re shunned, many have died under the roots of your pride, but we shall settle this to save our might.

I implore authority from your side, let me wear your scent and go about to fight, I’ll save your pride and the souls that are deprived, enemies wait no more and I shall take flight; you bid me good luck and a good kiss goodbye;

I promise my love I will come back, and we shall run with our heels and talk about life, I shall watch you spar and admire; your bodily move like the ocean tide, your voice is like a coir that replenishes me anew to a queer kind of guy.

I wear your pride soon a cascade of a fallen might, I aim your spear and a swain dies, and another kind, momentarily, I thought I was the preordained man with his swift-footed pride, I miss you then like I was to die.

To be the worthy facsimile of my man, I have uttered his sprightly livened trance and led the homely stricken souls; I say we go home and make about our humble abode.

I revel at the thought of dragging Helen out from the hen of our foes, she, that is the beauty, the root of all these woes will bring about peace and we go home, my Achilles and I snuggled in heavenly prose.

Serendipity reeled within my thoughts, unbeknownst a spear pierced my heart, what of the love we’re bound to make? What of Achilles the one man I’m willing to risk it all? Is he not to die too, by the hands that doomed my soul?

In between the borders I stay afloat, I have mingled with the winds and drifted from face to face to see delight and faze, but what prevailed was my man fallen out of grace, wherefore the Achilles with brimming pride? Oh, but how you cared more when I was dead.

Achilles, oh, Achilles he wails over a shell of no soul but a fractured man, I lament with him for he has died too, haughtily I dare not but I fear his life is almost due, slowly he drifts to a path divulge from the kind in himself.

I left you not in your grieving soul, I smothered you with love in your midnight woes, and I have bore witness to the wreath in your soul and how you bend to break it all, and apathy I have come to hate in your eyes as the head of Hector rolls like dice.

Soon enough you meet demise, and our ashes reunite but strangely naught I feel but your distant soul away from mine, impediment howls, and how your son is vile, now our roads diverge ever to reunite.

Upon your tomb there carved your name, besides I sit like a widow bae and I await, then your mother came, oh, she longed for you but she remembers little to faint, but this I say your son is great, I am the memory to deliver the beauty we have come to make, with the vicissitudes of our fate.

The song of Achilles sang to pave the way.

‘It is done’ your mother says, becoming kind so to say, besides your name a carve that says; Patroclus, and my mouth is agape, this means one thing and I’ll see your face; under the roots of the mead of green I’m new to this dreary scene;

Two arms reach a radiant light to grab me tight and reunite.

“Achilles, oh, Achilles my one and only life, the love I have for you triumphs over those who dare to ruin the heavenly love, we spare against the march of our fate and the relentless time, for you are the four seasons I have come to love but like the pristine calm of the sea, we come adrift and die, for we have now bade life goodbye.”

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

"If I give you all that I am, the flowers underneath my hem, shall you embrace it or use it like the other kind of men?"

-A.D.A

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

She Is the Strong That Mends Me Alright

A.D.A

She moves along life with grace and a steadfast might, she is just right, for like the morning star she shines brightly just above our height.

Our home is never our hearth without her kindled soul, mingling within our hearts, oh, she is just kind, her passion bears fruit upon my dark life.

She is just a soul who fares right, just a gem that is see-through in the eyes, but she shines so ever iridescently that it blinds my eyes, she must, however, be bright;

For the shadow creeps in to devour what you might, but Mother is here to walk me upon the assorted taste of life, she holds the grail upon which I drink to survive.

Mother who becomes the predator to fare for my life, she that is the many colors of life, is the goddess upon the bay along bioluminescence light.

She who suffers for her child dares bend reality to save her cub, her body grasped tight to make room for life, her womb outstretched, oh, she bleeds to death.

“It matters not the pain of mine, for you my child my fates aside, the cosmos may conspire to brew you a bad life, but, I, my love is universal and will bear the cross of your life.”

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

Love Tango With Death

A. D.A

A sickly princess sat by the highly leveled window of her isolated castle as if waiting for a prince who would never come, truly pitiful.

Hated by the authorities but loved by the people, yet in the end oh dear princess you were bestowed to die in my hands, shall I make it painless? But shall I have to intervene when death itself is calling for you?

…

“Goddamn, “ I scoffed at the thought, how now, I find myself cuddled in your embrace like a fucking kitten tamed by its master. Fuck, fuck, fuck it’s heaven without having to die.

They say leave her for you will be preordained to the idea of anguish for the woman but I turn away knowing best that I held the heavenly deity in my hands. The velvet red staining her lips and smeared off at the touch of mine, as the pale yet ever so light skin brushed against my calloused figure and a groan that transitions to a whine leaves the very inch of my soul.

It's peculiar but I like the scent you emanate like freshly bought furniture, they say you're a product of sin but every time you speak are sweet strawberries murmured in your mouth to mine. Darling, you're everything that defines beauty and elegance, poetry is the way you talk but wholly you’re a work of art place not in a museum but a shrine where the gods reside and gladly I'll worship you like a madman who's bound to hell.

But I ask oh dear princess “Are you not afraid of the idea of death? Especially that he’s near you now, perhaps just behind your back”

And for a moment I saw the devil in her smile as she proclaimed the dark whispers in her head.

“Why would I feign tremor for the prince I’ve been waiting my whole life.”

Ah, my feather light heart pierced by the thorns of her stem, painstakingly, she had put a choke hold on me, as to welcome me to heaven, only for me to be rid of to hell, reality. How I almost said the most excruciating, thing to bear; I love you.

Oh, how scary a woman is, they’re loaded with words so heavenly from the hell they covert, with their utmost jaw-dropping weapon, their body. I was only a fling to her, a fruit savored by her delicate teeth and tongue, feasting and draining me to the very bits of her satisfaction, till no more can she taste of something until I am but a void.

Like the world had shined no more, with its luminous hopes and pretty valleys, I am forlorn with a withered heart that says no more, but hopelessly in love otherwise. But, as though fate had given me a reason for my misery, I have come to a fruition of resolved, yes. I shall blow her lit life to none, but air. It is my purpose after all! Haha! She too had been my fling, there's no fault to justify when she is but a dying fly, thus I used.

Begrudgingly, I curse her life to hell, the velvet red on her lips no more but a pool of blood she bathes, but blessed in the moonlight she is, minuscule of stardust ornating her demise, oh, how it suits her, death is beautiful upon her.

The denial of love clings to your pride, a sin, for it drives you to the pinnacle of insanity and the contemplation of your actions in hopes that you will find salvation for the predicament you had unto yourself.

“I love you…”

You killed me, though my feelings were genuine, true to the heart, light sipping, have I not showed you?

“I am Death” And, you seek me, have you not?

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

The Affinity of Beauty to Life

A. D. A

Wouldn't you say life dwells upon nature, ancient as time yet to face her demise, amongst the meadow of the cosmos, a willow tree at the center, its greeny hair weigh down with the wind dancing and twirling around as it is, within the clothe of the willow tree a glint of beauty lies in it, gracefully as she is her eyes drift apart revealing them crystalline gaze, like diamonds they're worth a billion pays. Her two bare feet trailed out of the home-like tree as the wind sang worshipped and horned with please. There she stands 'life', heralded by whom-so-ever, her hair heaves down like an ocean of waves that flex from right to left as light traces down her fair and dainty flesh. She bores a smile that’s worth an eternity that even the grumpiest of all can't place a frown. Her dress is comparable to a sleeping gown and as white as her charm, resplendent like the illuminated crown. Her lips were rosy such as a rose that tempts humanity to fall for her, her head with a crown that’s ornate with flowers but carries authority over us. The brisk wind brewing fragrance of strawberry emanating from her majesty, she inclined and sat for the yearning cosmos, her touch reach and they bloom the more and spread like a blaze with but absolute florid taste, like rainbow they're iridescent like you we're but colors that ornate the impeccable life.

She is simple as told, yet beauty lies in her.

[simplytheromanticistdoris]

The Embodiment Of Nature

By: A. D. A

I venture my soul in the otherworldly green, you held my hand through the scene. You say this is your world whilst bearing a smile and just like that I'm enthralled to see.

Your affinity overlaps amongst the natural force, the ponds, and the Lakes complimenting your eyes like a looking glass that illuminates the darkest soul.

You proclaimed the opera orchestrated by the little singing birds is music to your ears, but I quote the words you evoke are heavenly feel that heals the indignation my heart conceals.

Like the lover you are, you showed me iridescent flowers beside the unrequited bay that tempts me to embrace its body of infinite range.

You chuckle and twirl in the encompassing nature as the willow tree bears the hair that you lay hold of, as with the tree dancing in harmony with your passion.

The morning star above us emphasizes your eloquent figure, an art that never ceases to leave the home of the masterpieces.

And, oh, darling you say you love the essence of the earthly mother, must be the reason why you smell like the aftermath of rain and a newly born tree that cleanses my breath.

You're the facsimile, the beauty of nature the aftermath breeze that welcomes me as if natural to do so, the dawn and the cosmos that ornate the tinted dark sins of human nature.

You're the root that maintains the poise of humanity, you feed me with unconditional love, like the order you seem but after resolution comes with a denouement, a sunset I gaze at the end of a day.

A Poetry I made in hopes to touch your soul, nothing of the sort but this is you, if you feel the resemblance, while I'm the admirer that holds affinity for you🫶