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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.
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.
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.
Wishing for WingsI was born a caterpillar...
Plump and cute and green.
You might think it would be great,
But that was not my dream!
Every day the birds came
The prettiest of things.
Though they want to eat me,
I can't help but watch those wings!
Every night I wish
On the first star in the sky
Please oh please just give me
Wings so I can fly!
In the morning I'd wake up
And through the trees I'd climb...
If I had wings I wouldn't crawl,
A dumb inch at a time.
I never stopped the wishing,
I never gave up hope...
Then happened this strange thing...
Did not think I could cope!
All the sky still left to see...
And mother tells me "Dear,"
"It's time for you t
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
The Song of the WolfEnlighten me, moon
For your beauty gives me strength
Enlighten me, stars
For your vastness across the sky gives me freedom
Enlighten me, earth
For your energy gives me life
Enlighten me, universe
For I am the Great Wolf
This Strange LandThis strange land
Where the breeze kisses my skin
And runs its cool fingers
Through my hair.
Where the long grass ripples
Against the wind
Like the gentle waves of a sea.
This strange land
Where the trees stand tall and mighty
With arms reaching over the gravel path
As if attempting to grab me.
Where the pines huddle closely together
Whispering amongst each other
In a language I do not understand.
This strange land
Where the sweet voices of birds
Paint the wind
With vivacious tunes
Where a heartbeat is heard
From within the earth
My Mother's Day Gift: A Story of a MotherThis Is a Story of a mother, a mother of humble orgins who toiled hard under the hot Dominican Sun as a poor farm girl.
Armed with a dream she moved to America with hopes for a better life.
With great ambition she worked hard in school and and worked hard in employment. During that time she found the man of her dreams, one who shares her own.
They marry and supported each other in their quest to make their dreams come true. Both working in between school.
Soon they had a child, to embody their dreams. Even with death threatening to take their child their resolve and will was unwavering. Through prayer and faith their child lived.
The mother continued her work in school and soon graduated. She soon got a job that gave her family the edge to advance in society and not know poverty.
This mother became mentor, confidante, friend, and parent to what became her children. Because of her wisdom and guidance, she now has a child in college, her eldest a graduate, a
Lonely Girl and Her WillowLonely Girl was her name, the name she came to take,
She looked around with a frown and said, “I need a break.”
The grass would dance, the sky was blue, whenever she came to see,
The lively green old crying scene, her tall old weeping willow tree.
Her notes would travel far away, up into the clouds,
And made her set aside her upset mind into joyous shrouds.
Underneath its shadows, the years began to flee,
“Why does it seem my only dream always slips away from me?”
Lonely Girl was done, the title went away,
She skipped and hopped, she zipped and zopped with others in her play.
Yet never letting go, the girl held to the
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...
She's ripping her jeans off at the thighs.Pulling out her hemp flip flops.
Bikinis under tank tops are tied.Preparing for the heat of summer.
She dances with the breeze, and runs to the sea. With a free laugh in she jumps.
Waves crash overhead, but she knows how to tread the trails of this old friend.
That girl is on the loose again.
Bare skin on sand, shoes dangle in hand. Her hair dripping with salt water.
She falls on the beach and looks at her feet. White sand is coating like sugar.
She lays her head back and starts to relax,to the sounds of her soothing ocean.
Breathing in the scent of salt drying on sun warmed skin.
The Theory of Earth-ExpansionIn the field of geology still exists a scientific theory that is ignored by the majority of geologists. But it is unintelligible for any mainstream people because it can explain a lot of open questions concerning the origin of the Earth: The Theory of Earth-Expansion.
The German polar explorer, Alfred Wegener, propounded the Theory of Continental Drift which then was extended to Plate Tectonics. He stated that all continents are well matched like a puzzle and concluded that once a super-continent "Pangea" existed which later broke asunder. But already in Wegener's lifetime, Ott Christoph Hilgenberg wrote his Theory of Earth-Expansion. Hilgen
What would the World be without Love?Without love everything would stay only a grain, a seed.
Without love everything would be without sense and name.
Without love, hope would be kept in front of the gate
And all dreams would always revolve in circles.
So I visualize love: quiet,
Accepted and held in the glance.
Constant play of colours.
All without selfishness.
Without love I would not write this poem
And the lie would cheekily sneer at my face.
Without love we would live in darkness
And future would be gloomy, grey and uncertain.
The way to get there is not easy
As we are too much confined to ourselves.
Mostly by severity and hard endeavours
We finally su
I feel them
The odors of time.
They are and have been always there!
The odor of a child
That was born to bring joy.
The odor of a flower that blooms
To remind me
Of a time when everything was differently.
The odor of summer
When sun illuminates my heart.
The odor of rain
When moisture touches softly my cheeks.
The odor of wind
When sending me greetings from afar.
The odor of earth
That grants me power to live.
The odor of automn
When everything goes to rest.
The odor of winter
When apperently everything sleeps.
The odor of snow
When gently falling
Covering everything like a shroud.
The odor of spring
The Redemption of Mr. Archibald NorfolkThis was the default:
"You are in a dark hallway, and someone is standing at the far end. The lights start to flicker and you run. What happens to you?"
I started running towards the darker end of the hallway where I had seen the shadow. The flickering lights hurt my eyes and I felt drawn to the darkness to get some release for my eyes. There was also some kind of curiosity coming up in me, made me thinking about the shadow at the end of this way. Probably he was the proprietor of this mansion?
I intended to ask him by running in the corresponding direction. When I got nearer to the shadow, I noticed a tall man standing at that hallway ent
If You Were With Me NowIf you were with me now
I would find myself in you.
If you were with me now
You are the only one who knew
All the things we planned to do.
I want to live my life
The way you said I would
With courage as my light,
Fighting for what is right,
Like you made me believe I could.
I will fly on your wings
To places I have never been.
There is so much I have never seen.
But I can feel your heart-beat still
And I will do great things
On your wings.
... Someday ... with your spirit to guide me ... and your memory beside me.
Talk in the ancient language,
Let us hear you rush,
Oh, river-music, awake!
Tell us your tidings,
The old and the new,
Oh, stormwind, let you hear!
You wise old,
Creak and groan your lament,
Oh, trees of all woods!
Hark, human, listen
To wind and sea roaring,
To the sound of the leaves
And to the song of deciduous trees!
Hark, human, listen
To Mother Nature's choirs.
Sing with them again
The TypewriterThe Typewriter
It began and ended with a word.
Not a particularly strong or powerful word, but a word that changed everything. It wasn't too long or difficult to spell. It wasn't uncommon either. In fact, it was a perfectly ordinary word, but, I suppose, its commonplace origin is what made it so special.
I loved that word.
But the word doesn't mean much without the story along with it and I was always one for telling good stories.
I ignored the call from the other room and remained seated. That tone wasn't unfamiliar. Taking a bite from my toast, I waited for him to call again. It wouldn't be more than ten—
"Sammy! Come q
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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