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Visiting HoursThe orange jumpsuit really didn't suit her complexion. But, then, they're not exactly intended to be fashion statements. The slow steps with which she moved, her lank hair and sunken cheeks weren't her either.
I frowned as she took a seat across from me, "What were you thinking?" I tried to sound curious instead of judgmental.
I needn't have tried. She simply lifted a shoulder listlessly, dismissing my question. "Nothing, really."
Her appearance already had me so shaken, her attitude disturbed me even more, "Then why?"
She lifted her eyes to meet mine, and there was such pain in their blue gray depths, so much strain that had pushed her to the breaking point, I had to look away. Shame that I hadn't seen her pain sooner filled me. Could I have helped? I had no way of knowing, but I wished I'd been able to try.
Her quiet voice emphasized the hopelessness of her response, "What's it matter?"
Days 15 and 16Day 15
And grass stained clothes
You glare and you yell
Going on about
Playing where stuff
Won't get broken
But, I said before
And I'll say again,
I DIDN'T DO IT!
Stay A While
Always before, when I was afraid or
Melancholy, you would hold my hand.
I knew everything would be alright.
Danger couldn't touch me, I
Remember. And I remember
And I forgot to breathe, hearing you were
Mortal, like me. And you were gone.
I sense your comforting presence,
Nestled in your arms, everything's
Going to be alright.
Thanks, LadyWelcome glimpses
In the spring,
Lakes of colors
Dancing on the roadside
Flowing in the breeze.
Lady Bird Johnson's legacy
Offers this treat,
Welcoming to our gaze
Returning for a distressingly
Short, but beautiful time.
Broken VowDaring the fates,
Only you would make such a promise
Never one to fear what may lie ahead
"There is nothing that will take me away."
Gone now, despite your vow,
Oblivion has taken you.
In the ShadowsWhere you fear the dark,
I find it a lark.
When your eyes cannot see,
You will try hard to flee.
Your desp'rate flight will be short,
I will have the last retort.
NaPoWriMo Catch upReach (Day 9)
Terrifyingly out of reach,
Causing a paralytic
Lack of action.
Break it down,
Bit by bit
It can be done.
Opinion (Day 10)
Staining the air
Or inspirational blessings
Illuminating the dark.
It could be either
Or anything in between
Hissing into the ear
Into the brain
Until the mind
Is the shape
AutumnTilting past the equinox
Slipping on the angled light
My place in time is losing tread
And falling into winter’s bite.
100mg of nature.the clouds are lost today,
like unsung lullabies
stuck in the throat of a strangled sky.
the flowers levitate today,
their tissue paper wings
pink sertraline dreams that the bees cannot sting.
the trees bob their heads today,
like tired old men
falling asleep in church, disillusioned again.
the white thistles are stuck today,
entrapped by their names.
hissing popcorn on stilts, or rupturing brains.
the sun mottles the grass today,
in psoriasis patches,
like liver spots on ivy in the window sashes.
the wind kisses sick patients today,
tucking them in,
and then flees in a rustling dress while she sings.
AutumnReds and Golds;
there are pumpkins everywhere.
fall off the golden trees.
The smell of rain;
fills the air.
Frost covers the land,
leaving behind a crystal wonderland.
In the pumpkin fields,
getting lost in the corn maze.
for Trick or Treaters.
to the rain drops,
patter on the roof top.
While the smell,
fill the room.
It is autumn,
and soon winter will come.
The Nature of LoveThe wind passes through,
howling by our window panes
angry and ever fierce.
Yet the sun still beams down
leading us to catlike behaviours,
sleeping in her warm beams.
Then there are the angry days,
crashing thunder and bright glares of lightning
creating fear in its midst.
But the days most preferred
are the calm spring days,
where everything is finally peaceful.
Gentle spring rains,
or the cool, breezy days
not too hot, not too cold.
The cool and quiet lead up to summer,
Spring gets not the recognition it deserves
everyone should be celebrating.
Yet more people recognise
the aggressive winter,
he makes his grip well known.
Or the hot summer
who spreads the quiet heat of rage,
why is she so well loved?
Or even the autumn
which is more often too cold,
is often preferred to spring.
Why can we not learn to love
the perfect spring weather,
as we have learnt to love ourselves?
As I opened my eyes, the only thing I saw was the sky. With its azure-colored background, fluffy clouds were splashed all over, the sky looked as if it was in a good mood. Sailing through them were a flock of birds, spreading their wings as if they were a kite. The gentle winds blew the leaves of the trees, making them dance in excitement. As I looked at the dark-blue lake beneath the hill, swans were seen, peacefully floating on the waters like buoys on the seas. Alongside them were their offspring, clinging together as close as possible like a thread in a cloth.
As I turned to my right, I saw field, filled with grass and trees. The scenery was like a painting of a masterpiece that was made once in blue moon. The plains the filled with children, playing tag, not realizing that they could play something much more fun. Right beside me were my siblings, sleeping soundly, locked away in dreamland.
As I stood up, I realized that this
Cycle of LifeWe walk because we can,
we walk because we need to,
we walk to go forward...
Then, we stop.
We stop because we're tired,
we stop because we need a break,
we stop because when we close our eyes...
We open them to see a new day.
Prayer of the Peaceful oneQuiet contemplation.
See with closed eyes,
But with opened mind.
Cold wind and rain,
Whisper in my ear.
Meditation of soul...
Give me stillness of heart,
Grant me calming sublimity,
And oneness with the earth.
Oh, the summer moon!
Stripped to bare skin, burnished smooth
Bathes in still waters
The moon rose, slinking
Over trees, their leaves burnished
And dull foil silver finished
She, the moon sipped
The dark of waves
Of deep waters, grey
And mercury dipped.
As an old woman she laid
Just above the rock reef stone
Hooded, in her winter shade
A specter of both coal and bone.
Rain, incessant, settled into
A heavy October mist.
I was alone, except
Beside me on the cold sheets
You left behind the low hung moon
Moon, the moon
Who might, in hurried footfalls break
The midnight springtime’s upturned face
In settling on a mirrored wave
Her visage crests, then swiftly cracks
While gulls with banded wingtips snap.
Into the mists, concealing all
As on the rocks the slivers fall
The Last ElephantLumbering through grey Savannah
Kicking up swirls of dust
Path making on Earth's crust
The last elephant finishes his circle.
It's voice is hoarse from calling
Its brothers, who are gone
Fallen under the poachers' gun
Their breath stolen from existence.
The elephant knows death is near
Its ancient legs shake
There's no decision to make
Its wandering is done here.
And when it settles down for final sleep
Its majestic tusks will be stolen
Its face ripped open
Such is the fate of the last elephant.
So admire it as it walks, while it walks
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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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