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LonelyI look at the stars
Hoping to see something
Looking back at me.
But its just echoes
Of dead and dying
Suns and worlds.
Nothing really cares.
There is no design,
No grand plans to
Make the universe spin.
There's only darkness,
Suffocating and cold,
Consuming the light.
Resting In NatureGreen leaves, soft wind,
The gentle whisper of the breeze.
Frogs croak, Birds sing,
The water reflects the warmth of the Sky.
Calm breathing, light sighing,
The boy and the girl lie calmly in the grass.
Midday Mildness, Soft shade,
Trees provide the greatest shields.
Light shifting, kind yawning,
The Lovers stir in their sleep.
A summer day to never forget.
A nature orchestra providing the lightest music.
A day shared, Hands linked,
The lovers sleep in peace.
You always tell me the same storyHe's in love with a scene from the winter
that occurs on a trip to Washington,
when the dark is constant and the trees jog
like legends alongside the highway;
as his eyes fall half-sleep but his senses remain
taut and vigilant, sweating on the wheel,
pitching nerve to the sound of branches cracking,
bristling under his wind-torn jacket;
the time of evening when the sunset rests
at its very highest, bright and sudden as Heaven,
an aureate glow around the birdsongs,
the stench of roadkill muted by a golden frost;
a taste of nirvana,
an instruction of faith,
the blatant existence of God,
lost as soon as he rounds the bend.
the wolf in her
heart is whimpering
like a pup hungry
for pure milk
but all it is given
and warm in a
one that isn't the
love of a mother
or love of any kind.
in the dry shade
lies the beast of eden,
her heavy jaw slack
from gnawing rotten
fruit and he is saying
with sweet, red skin
between his teeth
she was asking for it--
how her thin fingers
wrapped and pulled
and plucked at the forbidden-
ness, this is no confession
he hisses like the snake
in his heart.
we are all victims
On days like thisOn days like this,
I like to think
About just how lucky I am.
How lucky I am
To have food
And a roof over my head.
How lucky I am
To have a beating heart
And air in my lungs.
How I lucky I am
To even have been born.
Out of every sperm and egg,
And every unknown miscarriage,
I survived. We all did.
That in itself is amazing.
Then add on that life itself
Is amazing and wonderful.
How many systems
Must work in tandem
To keep me alive?
If one single DNA strand
Were to replicate wrong
My life would be irreparably damaged.
If my temperature is off
By just the variance between in and out,
These things astound me.
the weather latelywhen i tilt my glass up,
dregs of iced tea powder
become an orange starscape,
an eclipse wrought with holes;
summer, beautiful and searing.
Lookingwhy do we as human beings
ignore what is placed before us
at our feets
in our hearts
i want to be apart of nature
dissolve into the endless stretch
of baby blue skies
lift off in nimbus clouds
and when i want
gently float back down
ReptileBy design, I survive hiding, quiet;
I am my fangs, or my claws, or my muscle;
alien from accepted.
Please, do not forget,
my cold blood seeks heat.
The softness of scales surprises the skin
of ignorant fingers.
RandomSiren sing me that beautiful
song of love, death and tragedy.
of war that was outplaced by love
are other things. Oh siren sing me
that song that has kept you singing,
the song that kept you breathing, the
song that every man, woman and child
would like to hear.
The Little BirdI used to have a bird
He sat on my shoulder
His songs comforted me day and night
Every time I opened his cage my heart filled with delight
For he was my only company
But then one day he flew out the window
I shouted and called his name
Until the night was gone
Sometimes if I play a song he would come to me
But when he did not come my eyes filled with tears
For I thought he had gone to the place in the sky
At least he was in a good place if he was or was he?
After days of not finding him I gave up and sat with a piece of bread
My eyes were bloodshot from nights of looking
Then I heard something familiar, was it him?
LacusSunlight glistens off the top of the lake;
Fish swim beneath the cool, crystal waters,
And the wind chops at the surface,
Breaking, for a moment, the reflection
Of the azure ocean above.
Morning CallMorning Call
Lying half-awake in bed
The soft, tender form of my darling touching me
To my delight, the trill of the bugle
The tumult of the rifles
Had been stilled by the rain
The only sound i heard
Through the soft, quiet swish of my fan
Was the soft and silent swish of the late summer rain
I lay in bed to listen
Until 9 AM
light is dark and dark is lightHave you eaten from the fruits of insanity?
have you not yet bitten into the bitter sweet fruit of sins that lay upon truth?
or are you still living in the safety of a lye,
for I have moved on
while you are still hiding in the blackness of the day
I am bathing under the light of the shade
and though you are blind by the hellish suns rays
I can see
So I will take you by the hand and lead your wandering soul down the proper path of darkness
not the path of son and truth but the path of lies death and gloom
for this is the path of safty
this path was built for you...
MercyI stood out in the cold and
watched the Milky Way cry
like a new mother cries
when her first child is slow to take a breath
and begin life.
And I wondered:
Are these our last breaths
or our first?
I thought about how beautiful
the Earth was around me,
even in the darkness,
and if she was merciful.
Would she see the good in my heart
and spare me, or would she
clamp down on me like a mosquito
who had been caught
sucking the blood from her thigh...
As I returned to the warmth of my home,
I considered the cool air caught in my chest.
I hoped if she wasn't merciful,
I had earned mercy enough to
exhale one last time and
remember the sensation
Moments Dressed in SnowflakesMy pup by my side,
the neighbours cat watching quietly,
He gently whines to remind me
the snow is cold on his paws,
and all the while the smell
of freshly baked shortbread
tickles my nose.
Snowflakes flutter like
migrating butterflies and
dust my eyelashes with
Each strand of hair
that usually flows freely about my face
wriggles in the wind
like a poor fly
ensnared in a spider's web.
My breath cascades over my lips
in a fanciful dance,
etching my dreams into
the crisp morning air
as my lungs revel in the vacation
from humid breaths.
The tenderly lit Christmas Fir
paints pictures in the frosty window,
while boots not-so-heavy
compress nature's tears of joy
beneath my feet (where
only two months before
While my stubby fingers
hide within cheaply made red gloves,
I can't help but admire
the soft Christmas music drifting
through the walls of my house,
a vanilla smile sheltered beneathe
a scarf made of my own hands.
Ode to a Grain ElevatorSilence begets beauty and the view
of a thousand acre sea of gold.
Even when the days are grey,
a beacon within expanse shall you be
and a refuge for the owls.
Tell me, does your dust give comfort
to your mice as it does my mind?
You do not lean in the great prairie winds,
weathered by the pummeling rain and hail,
dressed by the sweet white winter.
The name aside your walls to you a memory,
to me a location of no significance, really,
but you wouldn't understand
as I don't understand your will to stand tall.
Though abandoned in farmer's field,
with every bird you shelter, every creak and moan,
you smile on the knowledge
you see the most beautiful sunsets in this world
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More