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Daniella Lujan
Daniella Lujan
(November 6,1988. / Pirmasins, Germany)
Biography of Daniella Lujan
I am 18 years old, Hispanic, and an ARMY brat. I love to read the classics, and am fascinated by different languages like French, German, Italian, and Latin. I consider reading to be a compulsion to me. The same goes with writing, another insatiable trait.
Personally, I view poetry as a way to relieve myself of pent up emotions, and to describe the beauty of life. As well as the tragedy when I can find no other way to explicate my tumultuous thoughts. I like to read other people's poetry, whether they're recognized or not, so that's why I like this cite.
Daniella Lujan's Works:
Zip zero. I'm a senior in highschool, the most I've done is won poetry competitions and money for it. I write stories online for practice...that's about it.
^_~ guess you have to wait!
Daniella Lujan Poems
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-the Car Ride-
She betrayed me. We were coming home from the university, The night was quiet and uncaring. -
Bellicose
Shall I hope on futile missiles? On scorn forlorn- -
C.D.S
A Veteran of Stupidity, -On glassed aisles go- -
-amplexus-
For soothe be thee, And be appeased, -
-materia Noctis Ab Lunae-
It’s getting dark, The moonlights wanes- -
Love's Trials Lost
I sit and ponder, Our love obscure. -
-subconscious Sentiments-
Oh thy words art cold as Winter's smile which graces upon thy lips, And even though mine blood 'tis not pure mine heart ‘tis a willing avatar- -
-ni Te Odio, Por Que No Me Importas-
My anger is an unspeakable thing; It curls and grates like the Furies themselves- -
Coquetry
Just the words as are perceived- Should be seen by thee in light of day; -
Tempus Fugit
I exist, time stands still. Another week another second, -
Sententia
Poetry... I hate this. -
Lost Amidst The Shadows Query
Flight as swift as sorrows wing, Clasp our hearts and shield forthwith.
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Coquetry
Just the words as are perceived-
Should be seen by thee in light of day;
Words are not tokens by and by
Instead should be taken as less-
Than eye perceives.
It is that glint that made thee doubt,
And think winged flurries were about…
But such was not to be, as ‘tis this note
