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Nature Re-foundThis constant noise of life
wasn't here back at the start,
when only Nature owned the day
and solely silence played its part.
The echoes of the past are here
in all the views around me now,
for life's alive here in Vermont,
and every scene is Nature's vow.
I listen hard amidst the noise,
decipher what I can at least,
knowing all the answers called
are shouting out, peace by peace.
Beneath the surface, all I see
is wisdom buried, not long lost,
and if I search here long enough,
I'll find myself, at little cost.
The siren sounds of Nature's call
patiently wait to be re-found,
when noise is lost and silence reigns,
here in life's most sacred ground.
Real lifeBefore the birds begin to wake,
and the sun first peeks her head
above the trees, the dreams you make
are still at dance within your bed.
It's all defied as you create,
flying through this heaven's gate,
there you are the sun,
there you find the sum
of this your special fate.
Listen! Hear them call you!
Feel it! Feel them pull you!
Feel them lift you up, bring you up,
spring you up, and everything you up!
The sun has yet to claim the day,
the night still owns your soul,
so dance and sing and fly away:
the you once lost is now the whole.
Life is here! Life is now!
Find out why and find out how!
Brace yourself for all the smiles
that welcome you for miles and miles!
The birds are not yet chirping.
Their nest is dark and still.
But with the sun they start to sing,
and dreams depart until, until...
puddleI look at my reflection in the puddle,
and think about where I've been.
My face appears sad and lost now,
my soul wavers in the ripples.
Is there an inside to this daydream?
Are there answers to find in the mirror?
The time I waste in the search
gets me nowhere closer to the truth,
but I tell myself that maybe by waiting,
the question will disappear too.
Do I have an answer I've yet to find?
Is there someone inside me with a clue?
When I was little, I acted like a shark,
thought my mouth formed a frightening face,
but people just laughed at the silly act,
and the only one I scared was me.
I think I'll stop staring in the puddle.
I think I should keep walking instead.
This contains no mature contentI need to write...something...anything...so here goes...
The butterflies stopped chasing me
once I told them I ran out of honey,
and the bumblebees offered to sting me
if I'd give them more of my money.
Today was fun, right?
Or was that yesterday?
I lit up my hair like an orange purple sunset,
and I rubbed down my arms with lotions and creams,
but it wasn't until I tried eating bologna backwards
that I ever really noticed how much I hated steam.
Where is the daffodil I left by the counter?
Did you take it? Did I?
Where is the lemon drop I dropped in the garbage?
Did the man come and steal that too?
Yogurt and daydreams were made for skies like those,
and simpler answers would work to this tougher problem.
My mother used to scold me for leaving a mess,
and would wag her finger with a promise:
"One day you'll have a house to clean of your own,
and you'll understand all my troubles with this!"
The message came at exactly nine-thirty last night. He spoke with tears in his words
Winded TimeThe winds of change blow softly
through open panes and doors,
and little sparks of wonder
do scurry 'cross our floors.
Will morrow bring the answers
to questions still not asked,
when daylight meets the treetops
and sparrows are unmasked?
If darkness will not help us,
and moonlight shines too dim,
there's hope still in our dreaming,
within the pillow's whim.
Our slumber may not ease us,
or take away this pain,
but time itself will comfort,
and sorrow too will wane.
The Binder, The Turtle, and The RavineOn the last day of tests, the last day of his senior year of high school, Joshua went on a hike. It wasn't a walk of thoughtfulness, or even an opportunity for celebration apart from everyone else. No, this day had a purpose, and his walk was as much need as it was determination, as much purpose as it was pursuit. One locale waited for him up ahead, and one final destination was now just minutes away.
The little turtle had been wandering. Some vegetation off to his south had always looked appealing, even though his elders often warned him when he was young to stay far away from that area. "There's danger there you cannot see," they'd said. "The food to be found there is just not worth it to reach."
Joshua could see the end of the path now far up ahead, closing in fast. It beckoned to him just as he beckoned to it. This was the last day of high school as he'd always imagined it to be: hot, boring, stupid, and pointless. Only co
*Past and Present*One hundred years ago
When summer cast golden glow
Weeping willows, river side
Cast gentle shade, punts could glide.
Mild, quiet summer day
Strawberry smell and smell of hay
Silken dress on a boat
Shaded by parasol, afloat.
Today loud music rocks river
Weeping willows really weep
T/shirt slogans, blue jean rule
Now we’re noisy but very cool.
The Guardians of Childhood (Poem)
The spirits of an innocent childhood, from long ago
Arise and always protecting, the innocent
Children who’s dreams are filled with hope, with belief
With happiness as golden sand, takes the shape
Of their deepest dreams, their deepest goals,
Their deepest desires, as the sand takes on these,
A small, silent golden man, sandman, who holds the magic
Sand, that fills the kids with dreams.
He is the childhood guardian, that protects children’s dreams,
Their innocence as they sleep, like soundly angels,
Smiling in the dark. This was the guardian I use to always be told
About, in my mother’s stories. His golden sand illuminating
The pitch black night.
Another childhood guardian, she is the one who
Protects a child’s memories, and will always hold them
Dear, whose little fairies collect their teeth without
A sound, she is Toothania, the guardian, that is as kind
And as silent as her fairies. Always letting them know
Where they can find the children’s baby teeth.
Poem for Lou ReedTruly singular, an outsider’s outsider,
He learned well life’s hard truths, and was walking proof that
Your thoughts are only as deep as your faults.
Subjected to psychic savagery in his youth,
His mind took on an ever-changing persona
Always shifting between fame and failure.
A misfit, a hustler, a rake, a transformer,
A rogue, but not a charlatan, an objector,
But not a coward, never a coward.
An expert spinner of verse, he possessed a knack
For feel, impact, attitude, style; he always knew
Which words were those worth the listener’s while.
His means and his methods were fittingly erratic:
He would spend his days crafting curiosities
Only to then neglect and forget them.
What was important, though, wasn’t his works or quirks,
Nor his talent for causing a storm at a stroke,
But what he and his friends set in motion.
They would, unwittingly, forever change the way
We’d hear the sounds the mind thought it already kn
The Beginningons ago, before time and space,
Was born a set of twins who took its place.
One had eyes of daybreak and hair of sun,
The other, hair of night and eyes of blood.
Born to Laelia, Singer of Light and Love,
Husband to Laelius, God who rules with a fitted glove.
‘Twas a difficult birth, screams echoed through the empty world,
But Laelia was never alone or so the story told.
Lucifer was first, life entered with hollow cries,
Laurentius was next, his smiles greeted by butterflies.
Both welcomed with joyous celebration.
Excited Laelius, humans, his creation.
The Twins then never left each others sides.
Except when heavy choices caused morals to collide.
Vulnerable YouthPaper hearts from bright pink tissue meant for presents,
fanciful butterflies from orange dashed cardboard,
five petaled flowers danced around the sentence
of simplicity, ultimately to discard.
Tender thoughts from censored, guarded minds,
boldly do the simple stubby fingers strive to hide
the gift from Mommy, so that she can't find
the secret depth of the darkest snide.
The gentle pressure of acknowledging gestures
even the meaningless thank you cards
meant to send you on an emotional adventures,
only to be shredded on cynical hearts' shards.
But it is the thought that counts,
those sweet little eyes haven't yet been renounced.
NeedlesThe meat is cold from bloodless lust
My organs are damaged
Path be taken down range-
-And end with chilling wall
Forest of needle spires climb
My height cannot ask
Deem the stars they point-
-For reverence physical
Destroyed as winter comes
Invested into my stock
I am bought and brought home
With no escape from the lock
Needle sew a coat of iron
Black with the char left by
Remembrance make me a scion
And kindle a soul inside
Lids have shut and no key breaks
I cannot see between blades
Cut the night to ribbons-
-Now banners to losing way
Imposing in my blindness wait
My feet are icy cold
The forward march is death incarnate-
-Though I am numb to catch
A fabric stolen mask and clothe
The boundary pointed shed
Once streamers bleeding dry wove
The semblance of disjointed ends
No try can match the mind at work
For ochre has my pallor drained
This raiment bears a doubting murk
Through glacier impassive face
My asking wanes with setting freeze
The armour frozen bites
A pleading body already w
The Day She Falls Off Her ThroneToday she stands tall
On a mountain of deceit
But one day she'll fall
She'll be tossed off of her feet
And when this day comes
The day her reign is put to an end
She will have nothing left but crumbs
Nobody to attend
And whose fault will it be?
Her Mother's, Father's, or her own?
Perhaps all three
On the joyous day that she falls off her thrown
Death's LoveHe obtained a frightening manifestation
And held the power of creation
Without creating a new individual but becoming something with a strong relation
That kept a sturdy foundation,
As his cells connected, broke apart, and were destroyed during his formation.
Before me he stood, light lurking within his eyes, speaking of temptation.
Then, the déjà vu was overpowering, a suffocating and heartbreaking sensation.
Death played with an individual that people see as a cremation
And how I see as a pure, devilish damnation,
Where I can only vision the house it lived in, being eaten in a conflagration.
The appearance, however, delivered me into salvation,
That, alone, was enough to wash away any frustration.
The longer I stared, the more I studied, there was an alteration
In the depths of my concentration,
Where I began to piece together an understanding of admiration
That Death had somewhere in preservation.
His corpse-like figure had the power of reincarnation
And how he changed for
Life, ObservedStarted: 9:45 PM
Stepping forward almost
walking further back,
wishing by the meadow
of Father's nearest track,
I lept among the flowers,
and danced with lily minds,
the way my mother taught me,
the brightest, sweetest kinds.
Sun upon my forehead
and grass beneath my toes,
I walked through lands of daydreams
and watched as water flowed.
Two kinds of people watched me,
two meanings made my day
a kind of silent testing
in every sort of way.
I moved along the corner,
and danced along the fence
where fireflies and honeybees
made magic quite immense.
And all along the noontime
and all throughout the night,
I learned the birth of nature
and breathed the ray of light.
Two kinds of people watched me,
two souls unknown to me,
the ones I thought I knew
and ones I couldn't see.
Finished: 9:49 PM
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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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