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SeashellsI found a matched pair
Of broken seashells.
They were halved, but not from the same whole.
Each orange half-moon had been trampled
By a careless tourist with eyes only for the waves;
Each had been bored through and gnawed at from the inside
By some seafaring worm;
Each had been beaten by water and stone,
Battered by wind, tossed by the gulls.
Their tips had been worn down to points like wings.
It was as thought hey flew together and met in my path.
I threaded wire through them to make earrings,
So that the pair would never be apart.
Ella Violo - Chapter 2Ella liked autumn. The sun didn't rise too early or too late, and the air was still warm while gaining an air of crispness. She rose on the morning of the thirteenth with an enormous yawn. A mouse in the corner echoed her sentiment.
"Good morning," she said to the little creature. The mouse skittered back into its home in an old holey chest against the wall. "Gotta get a cat," muttered Ella as she threw off her blankets and poked Tomas and Alejandro awake.
Maria was already up and about, frying eggs in the kitchen. She was only two years older than Ella, but she already looked like a mother. Her brown hair was tied up in a messy knot at the base of her head, and smile lines were appearing around her red lips. The smallest thief, a four-year-old boy with quick fingers, clung to Maria's apron as she swept around the room, stirring bubbling pots of porridge and soup.
"Up already, Ella? Must
SistersWe are the worriers, the wishers
on low-flying Boeings, willing them up and
away from our homes and businesses.
We found ourselves in old England in
New England, winters with no heat and
summers of more weight.
We see love in white and wrinkled faces,
in cupcakes and pencil boxes, in train schedules
and in ordinary time, cut time, and thyme patches.
We may sit quietly but we will never be
silenced save by shouts and each other's
We were the perfect girls, and we are the working
women of east and west, the white North,
wit and will and worship.
Panick 3Do you ever worry about going mad, Mother?
I do. It started one day
when my mind stopped sounding like poetry
or conversation. The transitions rambled.
I found that my head was off-kilter, or my eyes
wanted blue and red more than usual. Did you
ever feel that, Mother?
I had hoped it would go away, but internal
monologues don't stop when the script does.
The crazy, I mean. Why does
it linger? I would think that better minds
than mine need the twisting. But what if
we all went out of our heads for a while?
Could that fix things? If we could forget,
maybe problems would vanish like the ponies on the highway.
Wouldn't they? Like the posies? I've never
seen a posy, Mother.
Ella Violo - Chapter 1Chapter 1
So, you want a story? How about The girl who grew up too fast? Its one of my favorites. I know, youve heard it before, but theres so much you can learn from it. Especially if you want to grow up to be like me. Dont give me that look, Tomas, I saw you watching my hands on that job earlier. Good thieves dont come from nowhere.
Here goes. But you only get part of it tonight. Weve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow and you lads need your sleep.
Once upon a time, I had a little family. Just me, my Papa, and my Mami. We lived in a modest house in Caligari territory. Papa was a merchant, and Mami sewed and cooked. She and her friend Amelia made the most beautiful things with linen and lace, and Papa sold them to traders from Castille. I went to the market with him one day, when I was about four,
What if GodWhat if God…
…cares about what you care about?
…was proud of your every achievement?
…actually wanted to thank you?
…is excited for you?
…believes in you?
...keeps His end of the deal even when you don’t?
…sympathizes with you?
…is on your side every time, whether you’re right or wrong?
…encourages your crazy goals that others say are stupid?
…is your biggest fan?
…is still rooting for you?
…won’t forget you, even long after you die?
…understands you better than your own parents?
…loves you more than your own partner does?
…loves you more than you love yourself?
What if God was everything we are looking for in other people, and ten times that?
Would we approach Him then?
Prayer to Wodenwisdom, guile and ecstasy
these things I pray You give to me
poet’s share – sweet Mead from Heaven
another drink of inspiration
Runes are cut from ancient trees
sigils, signs now come with ease
flowing blood and gushing soul
we move along in Frija’s web
the God will teach
as the Goddess shapes us
a union born of polarity
blessed hearthfire’s duality
Wōden, Wotan; Father God
I seek craft and witching words
teach me gifts of sweet seduction
and so catharsis of noble Will
Lord of Gallows, wandering bard
countless dead and so reborn
bring me now to wit’s sweet end
and teach me how to walk again
ending, ending, never-ending
it has no start to take away
born in Aegis, shaped by Aeons
given wit by Odin’s brethren
oh my soul, my life, my mind
I pledge them all to wisdom’s God
to seek and eke, to strive and conquer
and so to rise above the mindful now
I will seek the Overman
the promise of sweet Wisdom throned
a life beyond the bold horizon
Connecting StarsThere are arbitrary lines between the stars
In triangles and rectangles
But everything’s circular
Cyclical, rotating, transforming into
and out of shape.
I am connected to the cycles
I am circular in my essence
Transforming in cycles
The stars cannot be observed without me,
I am stars and the lines in between.
Holy TrinityThe solidness of beginning
An eternity of summers
A sweet delicious immortality
A sparkling rivulet entering a meadow brook
Life giving rushing river to oceans of jumping fish and cresting giants
Flashing wet in the sun
Sunlight warm on us all
The molecules of time drifting apart
Gently seeing through those things that were solid
Spaces big enough to walk through
Ending in mist, asking: Why?
An Embrace in the DarkAn Embrace in the Dark
Your reasoning is true, you logic right
My flaw is forgiven by ethereal light
Make our scarlet sins bleed anew
Make them crystal as morning dew
And though I sin, I still understand
That all I want is to be part of your plan
Blood so crimson, akin to twilit sky
At last I am free, on angel’s wings I fly
here one minute...this seems now
to be what's true:
do not dread death
toward end of life
because there is
no There anywhere
you'll not Be dead
you'll just be gone
an absent one
no longer here
the mortal throng
to Be no more
where you've not bought
nor caught the fear
from those who claim
to know one thing...
or too much other
you surely see
you cannot mourn
your selfish self
nor must you run
behind your loved one
to your lord
just let them go
and whisper "Yes"
prepare to miss
as you should
the one whom has now
come up missing
there'll be a day
when you'll be gone
though you won't know
so - mute the souls
who go before
[more truly need]
but likely sense
there's no beyond...
beyond death's door
one shall not see
one shall not hear
nor feel the calm
nor wonder "Why?"
at all... anymore
llp - dA - aug2014
ReconstructionRibcage turns to lead and thick and iron,
a bastardised alloy
that grips your lungs like a vice
and patterns welts on to your heart
if it starts to flutter.
Skull turns to flint and gasoline and matchstick,
a raging fire against your brain,
that makes you sweat electricity
and blow smoke from between your teeth,
and your eyes roll back to watch the light show.
Stomach turns to cement and grit and earth,
churning and setting,
half-formed rock scraping your insides
and carrying you with the slow
rise and fall and rise and fall and rise and fall.
Body tightens and shudders and curls in on itself,
literally breaking your heart,
setting fire to your insides,
churning your stomach just for the rush.
Crescendo blazes in tumultuous turmoil,
rhythm crawling inside of you,
volume increasing, increasing, increasing,
you drop with a scream
and all is quiet and nothing hurts.
EnlightenmentWaking from your dreams
You see life as a gleam of light
Not knowing which way it will reflect
from the mirrors of reality
You struggle with your faith
Your soul has been torn
As you get up, disbelieving in fate and trudging on
You feel a guiding force that mends your soul
and takes you to a world of bliss
Where dreams are anything but dreams
Walking along a dirt path with a bag on my back
Everything I need is on my back
Days and days of preparing; just a simple hike
All of a sudden, a mountain blocking my path
The road goes up; all the way up
The only way to make it over is to climb
Shouldn't be too hard but it won't be easy
The road gets more narrow, the climb gets dangerous
Easy steps to make the climb are now impossible
The rocks are getting slippery, and the rocks are falling apart
Higher and higher I go, the danger increases
One wrong step, I tumble off the side of the mountain
Rolling down the side of the mountain
Hitting my heads on the rocks and breaking my bones
I don't know if I can climb this, I don't know if I ever will
It feels endless and having to climb from the bottom again; I will never reach the top
O Lord, please give me the strength to overcome this mountain
Give me the strength to even see the horizon
O Lord, You reign in the highest and did the impossible for me
There is nothing You can't do
O Lord, h
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More