It was autumn, dark save for the milk white glow of the hanging moon and chilly. The night air wrapped around her naked flesh as she stood at the window overlooking the garden and its once neat rows of ornamental trees now a tangled mess of fairy thick forest. She was waiting for him to appear, the stranger beneath the moon, her phantom courter as he always did when the moon and the air, as well as other things unseen were aligned properly. There was a curious regularity to his arrival, one that she thought if only she could discern the pattern, the way her father made sense of his dusty old books then she might be able to pierce the veil which separated them, or at least, only perhaps to loosen it enough to touch him with her tender, eager fingertips the wat she touches dew drops on morning grass.
She shivered but still refused to put on her robe. Her nakedness was refreshing, a welcome change from the tight constraints of her daytime life. As she looked out she saw the ivy draped statues nestled along the long ago forgotten paths in the summer garden. Fawns and satyrs, a mythological tale told in hard stone. Each one had an arcane meaning, she knew this but not what that meaning was. There were so many things she didn’t know, wouldn’t understand even if she did know. But she knew what the statues were, at least their appearance and that was enough maybe. They were all the nature spirits that modern science and the church abolished, relegated into the whimsy world of childhood stories. She knew also that she and they were somehow connected, though this may have been only her dreaming and not the substance of truth, that empirical dog that was always chasing its own tail. Her father called it the ororoborus, the eternal serpent but to her it was always just a foolish, play happy dog lost in the joy of being.
Overhead, barely hidden by the silken clouds the moon came to its apex, the height of its nightly lordship when all the old magic, that part of it which lingered still in hill and dale, beneath rock and over stream survived. The stranger appeared in the midst of the single patch of grass that the wildness had yet to overtake. He was tall, slightly built but strong. He wore the clothes of a lost era, billowy silk and leather, supple and rugged mixed together with whispered formality. At his hip there rested a silver sword, long and sleek. It shone like polished silver but not from the moon, for it was now hidden, but from some innate light of its own, or the vestige of whatever illumination lit the path from whence he came. If she looked, which she did not she might have seen that same light reflected in the hollow stone eyes of the statues or the dancing glow of fireflies that were not fireflies at all but other beings, just as curious about the ordered, well kept house as she were about the wild, unkempt summer garden. But she saw none of this, only her stranger as he came to sit upon a stone bench that she swore was not there during the day.
Her nakedness was now light as a feather and despite her proper upbringing, which taught her such a thing was a terrible sin, she wanted for him to see her, all of her. If only, she thought he would look up to her window and see her there looking down at him, to see the true her. The her that was as wild and untamed as any beast then it would be enough…Enough for what? What curious thing to think. What was missing she wondered. The moon, just coming cresting the cloud like a sky born starry galley knew the answer, but it would never tell.
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- Current Mood
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creative
The rose
A sweetness of a dewdrop from a petal
Falling to the ground to settle
My heart
Is broken and the blood is flowing
My tears
Are falling
But I must keep going
The beauty
Of her lips
So soft upon my fingertips
Her face
Pale with grace
Her heart
Of silk and lace
My love
Was shattered
Her blood
Was splattered
My tears
Always falling
I want
To hear her calling
I reach out
For one
Just one more touch
Do I really ask
For so much
One little kiss
Such sweet bliss
I look for her
For just onw sign
Now
Only her footprints
Turned to dust
By the sands of time
The blood stained rose in my hand
Reminds me of her
and our one night stand
Her kisses so warm
and her touch so soft
It felt like sleeping in a hayloft
Her love so sweet
And her eyes so blue
I knew when I saw her
Her heart was true
The night was so dark
And the candles so bright
We held onto each other
As we made love into the night
Her nails so sharp
Ripping my skin
I kissed her lips
As she did it again
When I asked her name
She said she was a friend
Though it seemed short
Before I knew it
The night came to an end
Down the street
There she goes
Left in my hand
The blood stained rose
hi all I am new to the community... I found out about it thru the owner who is currently a writer on my website.... so anyway here is something I wrote back in january around my graduation time....
Letters to my Father
My birthdays come and gone dear dad
Did you even try to write?
My birthdays come and gone dear dad
Did you want to come at all?
Gifts and money don’t even matter
Its just hearing your voice again
My birthdays come and gone dear dad
Did you even try to call?
Drop the ball dear dad
Its all u seem to do
Funny how dear dad
You never try at all
No matter how many times I’ve called
Or Written for advice
You never seem to call me back
Not even to be nice
My graduations come and gone dear dad
Did you even try to come?
My graduations come and gone dear dad
Why weren’t you there with a camera?
Like all the other dads patting me on the back
And saying how proud you were
My graduations come and gone dear dad
Did you even try to call?
Drop the ball dear dad
Its all u seem to do
Funny how dear dad
You never try at all
No matter how many times Ive called
Or Written for advice
You never seem to call me back
Not even to be nice
Now dear dad this pains me so
To have to say goodbye
But I cant wait around
For a very simple hi
I’ve tried to make excuses
I just knew you’d come around
So my dearest dad I’m sorry to say
This is my last goodbye.
So how is everyone? Autumn I hope ya dont mind me posting this.... if ya do let me know but....
I have a website (autumn lyric is a writer on it) that I am just starting called www.invisiblethoughts.com it is mainly for writings... stories, poetry, controversial issues, etc. I am using it to post peoples writings and maybe get a "online magazine" going... it is kool so far... I only have two writers so far though. And as I was looking through the writings on this community I noticed that there are a lot of talented people involved here.... So I was wondering if yall would like to be writers on my website? Like I need to see two samples of your writings.... and u just email me rebelbabe2004@msn.com ( my yahoo business mail is malfunctioning) in a couple of weeks I will have people start to do serious work where you have a deadline to meet... like for example... "susies can u please write a article on a controversial issue?" "sure" "and is there anyway I can get it from you by this weekend?" "Yeah sure if I have any problems ill let ya know" "aight bye!" lol yeah so that was cheesy but u get the point... if u cant make a deadline... that is just fine with me! lol And that way u get to show off ur work... u dont have to be on the staff if u dont like.... if u want u can just email me a poem or story to put up.... and I will... if it is excellent and i dont have the daily poem spot filled I will stick it there... otherwise it will go on the poetry archive page. So what do yall think? Are you up for the challenge?
(sorry autumn if this is not ok... i dont mean to join just to post about the website... I will post other stuff too! lol )
Ciao yall,
Meg
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- Current Mood
- artistic
Hi All!
Can anybody suggest any Internet free library with russian children poetries in
english?
I am intresting in following authors:
Eduard Uspensky
Daniil Kharms
Yuna Moriz
Kornei Chukovski
Boris Zahoder
Vadim Levin
Genrikh Sapgir
Irina Pivovarova
Tim Sobakin
Even I am looking for english translations of Yan Bjehva and Miroslav Valek poetries.
i'm going hunting, i want to explode
gonna burst into flames, gonna find the secret in you
i swam in cool waters, i float down to your shore
i have this primal need in me, a need that i must explore
danger in me, danger in you,
dust to dust, ashes to ashes
to feel you, to touch you, i can't explain it
danger in you, danger in me
swallow up those bitter tears, no need for them now
settle down, you haven't really tried
you couldn't ever see, you'll never ever be
these words so long forgotten, i'm going to speak them to you
i'm going to explode, i feel the rage in me
gonna burst in two, find out all the answers
two by two, this need grows
i will find something to keep me
i will rise from the flames, i will sore out of the ashes
danger in me, danger in you
dust to dust, ashes to ashes
to touch you, to feel you, i need to explain it
danger in me, danger in you
come on out, they're all waiting
they want to know, they want you to show
there's something that you forgot
a hidden story
a secret need to be
a place that's yet discovered
an empty place called love
there's nothing left but sorrow
all these years and tears
there's nothing left but hollow
take me out in need some air
see me through the blindness
let me out of this prison
i have been here for years
time to start over again
danger in you, danger in me
ashes to ashes, dust to dust
to explain it, to feel you, i need to touch it
danger in me , danger in you
come on out, i'm waiting
i want to know, i want you to show
there's something i forgot, a hidden message
a feeling yet discovered....
there's danger, there's danger inside of you
there's danger, danger pouring out of me
there's nothing in you, there's something changing in me
danger, ashes, dust to dust....
sorrow, hollow, take me out in need some air....
i have a secret, i have a need to be.....
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- Current Mood
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contemplative
I'm very pleased with the first half of the poem, but not so happy about the rest. I'd really appreciate some criticism to help me improve it =)
Will you take him away?
The man with the worn hands, who digs,
Searches in old, barren lands,
Forgotten plains,
For things lost or thrown away,
He doesn't have anything new - too much responsibility,
The new things end up here, and most are never found,
But in the desert of isolation, thousands live,
And yet only one is found,
It's buried the deepest,
Covered by the soil too dirty for the forest
And the sand too heavy for the desert
But the man finds it -
He looks at this worn, destroyed thing
He wonders what it was, it seems destroyed beyond repair,
He takes it home to try to fix it,
But in his hands,
It sparkles,
Fixes together,
And the young girl's heart is so grateful,
This man's hands spent ages in the ground,
Whilst they were there, they found this thing,
And when removing it from the ground,
Also removed his own hands,
So tell me,
Will you take him away?
This man, with the worn hands?
Because this thing - it's still got a crack in it,
And though that won't make him forget what he found,
It could cause it to bury itself again in shame,
Get lost in the crowded isolation,
So please tell me,
Will you take him away?
I talk of my soft underbelly
Because I’ve built my walls with great stone eggs
Fertile yet sleeping
Oh, how you cause a stir
Seeing through my façade of smiles and mirrors
I have been blind to myself through so many others
Seeing what I needed them to see
Rose colored and man-made
There are hidden doors
One after another
Hidden doors
Hidden doors
I’ve been caught off my senses
But these roots of self-doubt have worked their way into the deepest soil
They are not so easily and quickly removed
I dig at them
I dig at them as fast as I can
While forcing my own pace
You soften the calluses I’ve shaped
Calluses to which I’ve become accustomed
I looked upon them with a safe glance and a safe feeling inside
Their absence makes my feet unsteady
You know my favorite words
And playfully swing the key to my own special garden
I have opened my eyes to a new tree
Growing inside this soul and rooted inside this earth
Branches decorate the Spring of beauty and encompass
Ebbing and flowing out and around those stone eggs
Peaking out of the edges
Before I have prepared myself for my own evolution
I know those arms of yours are there to hold me
Firmly and patiently in those moments I become tangled in old thought
A weeping willow that cries to the river
Waiting for the river to cry back
It's for him...
You thought i was beautiful. You told me i was pretty. How lovely. But then, then you reached into my soul. That night you touched me so deeply. You felt the black of my soul. You found my secret hiding place. Your fingers traced the scars upon its surface and you asked how they got there. You listened to me speak and wiped away the tears. You touched my soul...and turned away. You wanted simple beauty and pretty eyes, a perfect pouty mouth, pert buoyant breasts, the blonde hair, the fair skin, the joys of outer beauty. You shunned and turned away from the beast that lives inside. You left me after that night. Now i lie alone, fingers tracing the scars upon my soul. Resting for a moment upon the fresh new wound in the shape of your fingertips.
-laurann
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- Current Mood
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sad
