Poetry About Innocence Novels & Stories

It was easy for Artemisia to understand that pity, the creature understood what he was saying, but the young woman still felt that the world was unfair. She was the protagonist of that story, at least in the story itself she could have a happy ending, just one damn moment of happiness. It hurt more to accept that, reality was like a slap full of anger and recklessness, leaving her face red to mark the shame of such innocence. Innocence, stupidity, false hope that had never led Artemisia anywhere but pain.

But what I want to give her goes to infinity. My lips tugged into an automatic smile as I thought of her innocent little self, assuming I was an inexperienced nerd. A broken chuckle leaves my mouth as I recall her face when I told her neither I was a virgin nor some noob. Innocent? Oh baby girl, you haven't actually seen my innocence and how far I can stretch that so-called innocence of mine. She doesn't even knows how every time I fucked any girl I imagined her in their place. How her body will feel against mine and how my name will sound coming out in her toxicating voice.

There was apoem at one side of the stable written in beautiful silver color; But in forgiveness' gentle sway, A flicker of hope begins to giveaway. The wounded soul finds strength to obey, "I'll heal this rift, dispel the cliché." With grace, forgiveness is now bold, An act of courage, rare and true. From bitterness, new paths they weigh, A chance for love to start life that is new. For in forgiveness, freedom survives, Betrayal's chains are cast astray. From ashes, love, reborn, thrives, As forgiveness paves a brighter path. "This is an amazing poem, who wrote it?" Erica asked and Dominic was silent, he didn't anwered.

Stacy remembered a poem she learned in her literature classes back in senior secondary. Unparalleled beauty, worth the praise a maiden,resembling a starry night beautiful to gaze,forbidden to touch a deadly weapon, to the mankind But in this case it was not maiden,but a man . Whose beauty was intoxicating,like a thousand old wine.This beauty was hers. Here's to corrupt,hers to own,here's to possess,hers to dominate and she couldn't be any happier.

The words hang in the air, mingling with the fading daylight, as if carrying her love and longing to the realm beyond. “Mother, I am not a pure woman anymore - I have been worn out by a man twice! How am I going to justify myself? How am I going to tell the whole world about my innocence? How am I -” her voice trembles and she can’t finish her sentence. As dusk deepens, Nora finds solace in the stillness surrounding her. The distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of leaves provides a gentle backdrop to her thoughts and reflections. She feels a sense of connection, a comforting presence that lingers in the air, as if her mother's spirit is listening and offering silent support.

Glowing their crimson, gloomy glimmer in the dark Red flowers, red flowers… The new end, the new beginning, they mark I wondered where this voice came from. The poem sounds like a dirge but is sung with a child's voice. I hope that this is not the voice of a child. I do hope that there are no children in this sinister place. Before I managed to ponder this any further, they dragged me out of the cell and pricked my neck with some injection.

Hush, little one, the phoenix sings, A lullaby of fiery wings, In darkness, light begins to shine, At morning's warmth, our hearts entwine. In turns of life, the phoenix grows, From ashes born, to radiant glows, A testament to life's grand plan, Eternal hope, in every span Hush, little one, the phoenix sings, A lullaby of fiery wings, In darkness, light begins to shine, At morning's warmth, our hearts entwine. As twilight's hush, descends once more, The phoenix's song, forevermore, In dreams, its spirit will ignite, Guiding you, through the dark of night

In there, in that low-ceilinged wide-spaced poetry club house, with all those new people who had only just shown me their cores in stanzas and verses; I feel in my head something bright. Bright, bright, bright lit. *

It’s glowing light gently caresses her face , her moonlight kissed skin captures my sight – captures my heart as well. How did she penetrate my heart? How did she make me feel again? How did she make me believe in love? These thoughts rush into my head , as I continue to watch her resting form. I do not know what it is about her that drives me crazy. Was it her beauty? Was it her hour glass figure? Or was it perhaps her innocence? The way she sees the world in her through her own innocent lens sometimes leave me flabbergasted. She is so blinded by her innocence that she does not see how these hungry vultures , men , stare at her beauty and her body with lust and desire. My blood boils when I