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Best Poems Written by Desheya Swaby

Below are the all-time best Desheya Swaby poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Desheya Swaby Poem

Oh how wonderful it is to be alive. Oh how wonderful it is to be able to grow; mentally and maybe even physically. But what kind of happiness do you extract from the success you achieve? The rush of happiness that cannot last until you further push yourself once more after, and then again, then again. It's like Heroine, you will never have the rush til you inject more, and more. I, myself, have experienced a tremendous amount of success ever since my Senior year had started three weeks ago, on August 27th 2012, or even since High school started since I slacked off in Middle School. I have felt the satisfying feeling of accomplishing good grades and continuing to make them even after. I can take myself to big places if I really wanted to and this is what I presently choose and otherwise in the future, will it be the same as well. This.. Knowledge.. I want to improved it, I want to know more and sometimes the laziness I feel is something that can easily stand in my way but what laziness do I know as of now? Not much if that's what you were expecting. I am trying my best at this point. Only the Fates can detect what kind of further lies ahead for me and... my heart. Hm'.. My heart. That muscle beating soundly inside my chest. How can I elaborate on such a confusing emotion container. When does mind over heart actually happen? Sometimes I ask myself these questions, questions that will never be answered yet I can only learn from my mistakes and the impatience that my past has brought upon me. The spoiled nature that could have been something completely different than what I ever imagined til this day. I would love to know the cure of which selfishness blocks. I would love to know the reality of my very being. And yet I feel this urge to stomp on myself emotionally because I feel such emptiness when I can't do something right or when I am seen as 'mere' in the eyes of those I care for. Am I really so mere? Or am I just not intelligent in this sector? Has my experience anything to do with it? I want to be the kind of perfect for those I love. But with blurry eyes, I cannot establish this. I will try harder. I swear I will; it may take me some time, but I can do it. I know I can. The temptations around me matter not in my soul, they don't even truly matter in this self conscious mind but even so, I will not let it drag me down. I will work for it. I will work against the misery of feeling useless in these times and too proud in others. Just believe in me. Just tell me I can do it and the pressure of your passionate words will lead to no end. They are limitless. Can I be YOUR perfection?

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Part 2: the Key To Finding Yourself Lost

She sat upon shiny, cherry wooden flooring spread out across the ground in a small house of confined detachment; the windows were fogged with a sort of icy breath that exhaled down upon the aura of the entire place. The foundation was dreadful and the atmosphere dead. And then there was silence. Silence didn't seem much new to her at this point but regardless did she captured every moment of it anyway apparently. What was she to do? The young woman leaned forward, her hair sliding off her right shoulder, hanging there like a snowy lock of strings. Her deep, dark wines watched the same foggy window as her mind dissected everything that had meaning in her life so far. "I don't care for structure. And I don't care for balance. What is balance?" Her eyes wandered the old, broken down house where the roof seemed to cave in on itself from up above, revealing the dulled, yellow full moon on that cold night. Snow fell freely through the cave, so there was no difference if she was inside or out, it all just seemed to follow her one way or another. She'd been wearing a tattered, torn, velvet, violet shirt that hung loosely around her shoulders, to expose from throat to chest, torso to breast and so on. A pair of matching, shorts ripped from the right hip and ruined from the left hem. She was also barefooted and she sat there on the floor before brushing her hands over the thin blanket of white that settled in her surroundings, covering old, ice-tainted furniture; like chairs and a dresser and a vanity. A vanity that possessed a large mirror with a crack mounted at the upper right corner. She rose from the floor and sat upon the small, cushioned bench that was provided with the Vanity set. She looked at herself in the mirror. "Have you no redemption?" She pushed a single finger to the mirror, and at the sudden second she did, the mirror exploded into millions of tiny shards of glass falling over the snow behind her. "And to them around, does it only end in a full head-on blow." Seemingly, the shards did not fly at her but around her. The framing of the mirror fell forward causing a loud slam to take hold of the silence and the emptiness of her words now. She rose and sauntered on, dragging slim, pale fingers over the disturbed walls of the small house, her feet pressing into the glass shards upon the snow, leaving bloody footprints in the snow as she walked out of the house.

Never again. Find that redemption.

Details | Desheya Swaby Poem

The Exceeded Limit of What a Teenage Mind Can Only Take

My head aches sorely and my heart breaks more,

I look to the old china cabinet to see what lies there and the first thing I see is the Angel and while in the mental state of becoming something I never would have expected as a child or a Teenager much less but as an Adult or grown Woman? I'll never know. But comparing life 10 years ago to now is something I've done constantly in the past,  that things change over time, as if things are beginning to grow dull, like the Angels that sit upon that shelf, are beautiful women when they are truly genderless, the small statue of Jesus Christ, a man long ago who was just a Sinner as any human being upon this Earth, Nature; Created by possible multiple gods rather than just one. But one reason why I vent is because, I've been so frustrated to what might happen in my future, scared but risky. I don't know what's to come but I can only hope that it may bring happiness one day and because of my skeptical, confusing downfalls which are my thoughts, it's become hard to even think about what would happen. I've suddenly felt depressed also because.. What am I doing here? Becoming Anti-Social as I seem to think.. Becoming something.. I wasn't those 10 years ago.. I'm quite sure I've upset my Mother from this point on, as her own weakness may grow, the older she becomes and the more I break down in every set of mind state that I tend to put myself through. That smiling face, I want to see it in reality one last time and I can only hope that life will be much more suitable for myself soon.. That I can hope to see everyone truly happy in a mist of possibilities that never seem to fail or that never seem to let anyone down but myself.. Looking through the Rose colored glasses is all I've ever really been about and I will continue to do so, I will.. I'll find the day that I see that smile.. That real smile, the confident one. and if I could go back in time and pull my inner child in front of me, I would hold her close, hug her tightly and tell her not to ever turn her back on the true meaning of happiness because it's all you have to make yourself whole again. And although it may seem hard, just don't ever let that confidence go, don't ever let anyone pull you down like your future self has, don't come into this place lacking compassion and embracing selfishness, don't ever steal, don't ever lie, don't ever kick the hopeless down..... Be you and only you.. Let my Mother tell you what is right and what is wrong.. Find love in all the right places.. No matter how wrong they may seem. Just let your heart decide and not your mind.. You were born into this bright but cold world for a reason, and only life can give you those reasons as you age but start off right, my darling. I won't have you carry the burden of your Father leaving for possibly the most pathetic but crucial reasons.. You must be strong, you HAVE to be strong. Learn all that you can so that we may meet again and when that time comes where you age to 16 years old.. We will reunite and tell each other just how happy we are to live as one. You and Me forever..

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Part 1: Confusion of the Muse

The large, bright Winter moon shone it's heavenly light over and out amongst the snow-covered city. The city was large, the city was noisy. It was midnight and the bustling still urged on. People ached for a screaming, gangs clutched for their money, the elderly walked the icy sidewalks alone and or in couples; such a beautiful sight it was. At the very top of the Empire State building, a young-looking woman with ivory, glowing skin slumped her spine up against one of the boxed structures set over, preferably the corners. Her eyes glimmered with a soft red shine in them, her gaze was holding and even dangerous but yet a calmness instilled in her body, instilled in her soul. She was confused, she was.. What was the emotion long forgotten? She pushed her head up against the upper part of the ventilator before closing her eyes lazily, then did she turn her head, watching the moon pester her with it's large size. She rolled her head a moment. "Why do these feelings still exist? Why does unhappiness set the mood? The consecrated belief of this form was for the lovely destiny of being what I am now.." Her long, wavy hair danced with the cold breeze that swept in her direction. She found herself entranced in the lustrous sphere, floating there in the confines of the atramentous skies, dotted with sparkling partners.
As she sighed, her breath came in a swirl of thick fog. She felt no cold, she felt no warmth. She just felt sick.

Suddenly, as if everything stopped in the undeniable present of the moment, the sound of civilization cut off completely. Not a honk was heard, not a gunshot was sounded, not even the wind that whispered to her so dreamily could tell her secrets now. There was a presence. A strong presence, and a voice; a deep, rough voice;
"Child, have you not learned? Have you no shame? Have you no comprehension to the reasons of your being?"
It was a male's voice and it was most familiar out of a lot of voices, she heard it so much that sometimes, she thought herself to lose even her own infernal sanity. If she lost that, all hope was lost for her soul to linger somewhere as it did now. The woman turned around, folding her arms over her breasts as she did so, her eyes set upon a large silhouette that hid within the shadow of one of the large ventilators behind her. The male stepped out from the shadow, staring over her with spine-shattering, shimmering crimson irises. He stood six foot nothing and had long white hair just as she possessed. His jaws were squared out and his chest was large. "I have but more shame than you may know, but, in general, do you know too much.." She frowned. The man smirked only slightly to where it wouldn't even be considered a half smile or any in relation. "You're unhappy. You're dissatisfied. When clearly, you are to be neither. You have been a Devil of Dis for some time now and I think, perhaps, it's time for you to control it."

It was only their voices and behind their voices and words were soft echos. As every city commotion went on down below, as the lights flashed and cars crashed, nothing seemed like reality to her anymore, not even in her moments of thoughts. She was always being watched, no matter what. She couldn't feel shame. She never had that chance. She never had that chance to suffer the right way and die the right way as well. A faded memory of her Mother transitioned into her thoughts. She turned around, her back facing him now. She kept her arms crossed. She said nothing.

He walked up behind her before placing a single, large, talon-tipped hand upon her right shoulder, gripping firmly. His palm was warm. She didn't look up. "You fight with yourself.. Often and you know it all too well, girl." She could feel the gaze of his aura-seething eyes pierce into the back of her head. She parted her pale lips to speak; "I've got to find myself, I suppose. But, underestimate me not. It's harder than I've realized." Her back pushed up against his muscle-bound chest absentmindedly as she leaned into the fiery warmth of his massive form. The pit of her stomach felt as though it would close in on itself at any moment just not too long ago and now, it felt the growing ball of fire that set ablaze to her chest and overwhelming her beating heart. Hot breath caressed her slim jawline as she soon snapped from her flow of thoughts. She closed her eyes, nudging her body into his suddenly when she found herself facing him unexpectedly. Did she move here on her own?.. She let her head rest against his chest, his large hands running over her curved sides and behind, brushing his fingertips along her lower back with almost fervent passion before she tilted her head up, meeting up with his sharp structured face and the demand in his eyes, feeling the same breath brush over her face. The female fiend leaned up, placing her hands upon his broad shoulders and just as she tilted her head, brushing her lips over his own once. He disappeared.

In the same moment, her body posed in the same form just as if he was still there before she stepped back, her large, black wings folding up against her form. His voice rang through the air or her own air even before it entered into her subconscious, acting as such; "Act on your own, for I will be watching you..." And as his words faded into the soft echoes of tomorrow, the shuttering noises of New York followed in from soft to normal volume once again. She stared into the velvet skies, spying a single star that remained larger than the rest of it's comrades. She sighed softly, contemplating this.

Details | Desheya Swaby Poem

Acid Part 1

I lay the small square on my tongue
unaware of the effects
carefree and relaxed amongst "friends"
they leave as the effects kick in
paranoid but trying my hardest
to forget about it
convincing myself noones out there
everything will be fine with time
i start thinking...thinking to much in fact
knowing this will only be the beginning
of the worst trip of my life
noone around...noone to help in my time of need

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The Day the Towers Fell

A sad day for America

As rejoicing rang from hell,

Awakening a mighty giant
On the day the towers fell.

Our hearts were saddened

As we watched this vicious act unfold,

As innocence met a fiery death

And seeds of war were sowed.

Shouts rang out from the middle east

That Allah has done his good

But no god joys in faultless deaths

Through certain cowards could.

America just sort of glides along,

But don't step on her toes ...

For her belief in right and justice

Will stomp out freedom's foes.

Best Poems Written by Desheya Swaby

Sensually Haunted

Fire

Zombie Poem

I Am a Monster

Lifes Tasks

Part 2: the Key To Finding Yourself Lost

The Exceeded Limit of What a Teenage Mind Can Only Take

Part 1: Confusion of the Muse

Acid Part 1

The Day the Towers Fell