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About Literature / Artist MichelleFemale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 13 Years
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Statistics 213 Deviations 2,334 Comments 16,364 Pageviews
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Newest Deviations

I pushed a button by korenna I pushed a button :iconkorenna:korenna 3 2 Cappadocia by korenna Cappadocia :iconkorenna:korenna 0 2 To be home by korenna To be home :iconkorenna:korenna 3 6 at the end of history by korenna at the end of history :iconkorenna:korenna 2 8 Souvenirs from the Nile by korenna Souvenirs from the Nile :iconkorenna:korenna 2 6 Platform C by korenna Platform C :iconkorenna:korenna 1 3 All we are is all so far by korenna All we are is all so far :iconkorenna:korenna 8 52
Literature
Carnelian Sky
Embattled lovers
      slip to long shadows under
             carnelian sky
:iconkorenna:korenna
:iconkorenna:korenna 3 87
Literature
Broken Stanza, No. 62
My life is a poem of broken stanzas.
The space outside the doors bangs with muffled pleads. The man outside, a world apart, he's still a boy. Trying to save me while attempting to convey some semblance of my continued worth and capability to the rest of our world.
He's probably panicking now. I've locked the door from the inside, shutting him out, shutting me away. Where I am now is no prison, but it is my self-imposed cage, my exile. Responding to my continued silence, he dreads the horrific sights he thinks may lurk behind the door: my swinging corpse, my serrated veins, or perhaps my spilling organs upon this cold, deserted floor. But my perseverance lingers on. In this fleeting moment of lucidity, I assure myself of my final mission- to await the dawn of yesterdays.
In this desolate sea that fades and corrodes, there exists a lone oasis for my persistent existence. It is a beloved artefact, flowing gently over my degenerating form. Once it was worn by a regal maiden, unparal
:iconkorenna:korenna
:iconkorenna:korenna 14 74
Literature
Gravitas
I.
You're screaming.
At least, you'd wish you could have, had it not been for the incessant boil of lights too close to your face, had it not been for the millions of people who would later be scrutinizing you.
The sun illuminates your face, golden rays contrast against the silver-gray like a halo, and you're the unlikely hero.
The unspeakable tragedies pound against your innocent conscience. If thousands had to die, if hundreds of thousands had to die, why couldn't these strangers be spared? You linger on the hope that amidst the chaos, two little shadows straggle along somewhere, lost but still alive. As if "missing" brought back breath from the dead. You pray that your endurance will grant you peace.
Around you, the swirls of exhaustion draw in. The stench that corrupts the back of your throat becomes you. The sounds of a thousand bones breaking, necks snapping, skulls crushing- and the omnipresent silence of decay and splattering of blood. The waves that spared no one.
They're c
:iconkorenna:korenna
:iconkorenna:korenna 16 120
Cradle of Mortal Preservation by korenna Cradle of Mortal Preservation :iconkorenna:korenna 0 15 Individual Deviant Packet by korenna Individual Deviant Packet :iconkorenna:korenna 10 30 The World Belongs to Us by korenna The World Belongs to Us :iconkorenna:korenna 0 16 February 2008 by korenna February 2008 :iconkorenna:korenna 3 7

Random Favourites

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Mature content
Love-End-Peace :revised: :iconbalhaza:balhaza 49 50
Literature
The Eyes Of The Night Teaser 1
I used to fear the night. The way all children do. You know the stories… monsters hiding under your bed, sandmen, wraiths, and all sorts of other evil things from hell whose only purpose was to stop a child's heart. For children are innocent and defenseless… .
I used to draw the curtains closed. Not that it could stop monsters of course. But I thought if they could not see me they would forget me. But they never did… whenever I switched the light off, darkness embraced me; I heard those voices, whispers in the blackness. Everywhere… there were words in it, lots of words, but incomprehensible to me. Devilish. My eyes would open, but they continued to tease me. Always mocking me with laughter from spots I didn't look at. Finally I would turn on the lights and run to mama… crying…
My parents used to say there are no monsters. Mom said I should grow up and stop dreaming about nightmare creatures. Dad was a little more gentle. He said I was living in a dream world and that he understood. Bu
:iconShaperOfForms:ShaperOfForms
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Flora by nikosalpha Flora :iconnikosalpha:nikosalpha 807 331 Spacemoon by Nightline Spacemoon :iconnightline:Nightline 461 149 13 - Death - Phoenix by puimun 13 - Death - Phoenix :iconpuimun:puimun 3,600 456
Literature
101412PARALLAX
101412PARALLAX
per aspera, ad astra.
to the angel of the halls of time:
          in the space of those untold-thousand terminal
          heartbeats silent; the treetop sunbeams gliding
          some forest thaw in spring where he was static
          bled like ruin and heather in the cloudshperes
          she danced not far, and whether or not she felt
          the dynamic of weathered-storm skyshallow, yet
          untired he moved to make not a sound and thus
          was fashioned the beginning of an end
          someti
:iconfrail:frail
:iconfrail:frail 69 52
Puddler by WINGLESSxANGEL Puddler :iconwinglessxangel:WINGLESSxANGEL 783 288
Literature
Triad
Triad
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
-William Blake
He is on his hands and knees
and his breath comes in gasps.
Eternal grey stretches around him, the grey of nothing, of the
void. His hands are raw and bleeding
the red streams and lines like a disoriented, sickening map
with confused alleyways reeling into darkness. He is dressed in the rags
of his clothes, the rags of his sanity, and the rags
of his heart. Pale skin shows through the rips and tears,
as if an invisible whip of torment has opened him and pulled his insides
out. He cannot stay but cannot move, frozen
in stone. The cords are too tight; they cut him
off from himself, and the unnatural blue fingertips pulse
with the eerie writhe of maggots
in their transformation into wriggling pupa,
without ears and blind to the world.
Trapped inside his own mind like a cocoon, he thinks
of all the butterflies that he has ripped and torn apar
:iconbled:bled
:iconbled:bled 1 1

Activity


deviantID

korenna
Michelle
Artist | Literature
United Kingdom
In between evolution.
Interests

Comments


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:iconmemod:
memod Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2015  Professional
:dance:
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:iconmemod:
memod Featured By Owner May 19, 2010  Professional
Hey Michelle :hug: Are you still around? :D How is life treating you? Hope that everything is going well?

Daniel :cuddle:
Reply
:iconkorenna10:
Korenna10 Featured By Owner Oct 12, 2009   Photographer
woah you have the same name as me >.<
Reply
:iconmemod:
memod Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2008  Professional
hey :glomp: haven't heard from you in a while :D how has life been going for you? :aww:

Daniel
Reply
:iconsalvamoremali:
SalvamoreMali Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2007
:aww: Thanks a lot for the fav on "Rising"! :heart:
Reply
:iconmathematix:
mathematix Featured By Owner Sep 23, 2007  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Peace be upon you!!!
CooL Gallery!!!



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:icongleto:
Gleto Featured By Owner Jul 22, 2007
i rawly feel empowered with my new title. Thank you, for what I am but a lowly aspiring script writer -- without the assistant secretary denomination.

Have fun in chicago.
Reply
:iconscathode:
scathode Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2007
thanks :D
Reply
:iconbled:
bled Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2007
[link]

a person I found a while back. This deviation reminds me of Richard...
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