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fawn

whatever you fear, whatever you hide,
whatever you carry deep inside
there’s something more than this
October Project

thCAL9B9PJ

on that late lit afternoon amidst the blaring horns sirens rolling steel and rubber of every constant rush hour this city only knows, he saw her now sitting folded into the corner of a familiar doorway the burgundy shroud resting deep into her knees that impossible smallness an almost prayer like silent plea her meditation wishing this world would disappear from view. and as he always did walking his young golden retriever Scout a dog so serene he’d never heard him make a single sound, the closer to this little person in a doorway by itself the bustling street echos ending another ambivalent big city day, and his concern alarm now heightened wondering why this any child was left so alone, his scan for parents but found none.

closer now and details unfold black ballet slippers to black anklet socks delicately edged tiny white lace frill slim cranberry pants, then that ankle bracelet! …. it’s chain spun so finely crafted not by our any human hands sun speaking to each tiny charm glistening. …and hesitant now not ever wanting to intrude, Scout answered his questions a gentle nose nudging her knee as all good dogs will,

‘oh im so sorry, he has to say hello to everyone’,

and the slowest of motions the shroud lifted its head as if in a slumber waking finally eyes to eyes nose to Scout’s nose her hands instinctively moving involuntarily they found his golden jowls, standing motionless accepting her slow fingers moving a golden fur caress, the shroud so deep he could not yet see her face. and in a ‘time will forever stand still moment’ forever be etched in his memory, the burgundy shroud slowly lifted falling back revealing her pale skin colored paler by the blazing embers of the extinguishing afternoon sun this deliberate ray reaching her darkened corner of the doorway,

his concern its own slow fade seeing her narrow face she was no child after all, and in human years twenty something but as in the swift glint of brown in her so grateful eyes raising to meet the sun… a whiteness then the infinity white of everything all knowing and all our kindness in every universe that ever lived, hers a timeless and slow smile reply,

‘yes…he does.’

he stood there letting this moment live as long as she wanted Scout turned to leave he followed and as so many of us his slow walk away was followed in doubt, a disbelief that this was not just a dream awake so double quickstepping around the block with Scout trailing. maybe to relive a moment that should not require repeating …….maybe to speak another word that didn’t need speaking, arriving as the sun had already fallen behind every building in its way the doorway now darkened and she was gone.

whatever you love, whatever you give,
whatever you think you need to live
there’s something more than this
.
.
.


2 Comments

April Challenge – Day Three

Made some minor adjustments to parts 1 and 2. Part 3 has been altered and Part 4 has been added. Please feel free to provide constructive criticism and comments (or if you preferred a previous revision).

The original Day One version can be read here.

i. Torpor
Wolves unleashed by the darkened skies;
Like rapids they flow through the camp.
Stifled fires hide their hungry eyes
And the sheep fall, lost under the sleepy lamp.

Other lambs hide from the ravenous storm
And a lonely lion cub, raised by the flock,
Is uncertain that sacrifices are warm.
He wanted to fight, and not hide under a rock.

Surrounded by sheep, will the cub bleat or,
In time discover the truth and find his roar.

ii. Verity
In the wake of the wolves brash raid
The cub has to travel towards his truth.
His path mires the deeper he wades
Leading towards the end of youth.

Dawn raises more vacillant questions;
Swallowing dust, his words silent and dry,
Yet inside the mind bays frustrations.
Run or return home: what is the lie …

Blind in the darkness, he watches not his feet
Arriving at a cross road, which will he greet …

iii. Eschew
Scared to continue, but he can not return to a lie
Cold wet and hungry; the cub conflicted and alone
In the woods nightmares cast by the moon lit sky,
Branches claw and hollows gnarl teeth of bone.

Feeling like a marionette cut loose
Virgin eyes see that roots do not grasp,
And daemon eyes can not seduce
His freedom that callow fears rasp.

But an omen shadows his troubles with a cry,
To hear such; foretells that he will soon die.

iv. Freedom
The breaking light cracks the daemon’s grin
And courage fills him with every ray of vim
Lies left behind, the omen cries a muted din;
The desire for truth blinds the struggle in him.

The wood’s shadows are cast aside with light,
So little he knows of life and their pains,
But on he walks to the river town with sprite.
The cub far from a lion, living on stains.

A lesson in trust he’ll learn first hand,
No longer safe in his flock, he’ll fall not stand


2 Comments

April Challenge – Day Two

Had comments regarding the second line, and have made some other revisions. Please feel free to provide constructive criticism and comments (or if you preferred a previous revision).

Day One (previous) version can be read here.

i. Torpor

Bears unleashed by the darkened skies;
Like spirits they descend upon the camp.
Stifled fires hide their hungry eyes
And the sheep fall, lost under the sleepy lamp.

Other lambs hide from the ravenous storm
And a lonely lion cub, raised by the flock,
Is uncertain that their sacrifices are warm.
He wanted to fight, and not hide under a rock.

Surrounded by sheep, will the cub bleat or,
In time discover the truth and find his roar.

ii. Verity

In the wake of the bear’s ruthless raid
The cub has to travel towards his truth.
The path will mire the deeper he wades,
Leading towards the end of youth?

Dawn raises more vacillant questions;
Swallowing dust, his words silent and dry,
Yet inside the mind bays frustrations.
Run or return home: what is the lie?

Blind in the darkness, he watches not his feet
Arriving at a cross road, which lie to greet …

iii. Eschew

Scared to continue, but he can not return to a lie
Cold wet and hungry; the cub is conflicted.
An omen shadows his troubles with a cry,
Daemon eyes burn like stabs inflicted.

The breaking light cracks the daemon’s grin
And courage fills him with every ray of vim.
Lies behind him, in sorrowful tears of their sin;
The desire for truth blinds the struggle in him.

So little he knows of life and the greater land
No longer safe in his flock, he’ll fall or stand.


17 Comments

April Challenge – Day One

Little bit of a cheat, as I have written this poem before but I have not been happy with the poem series, and it is not complete either.  Through the challenge I will aim to revise, improve and complete the series.  I have previously published the first poem (Torpor) on my personal blog, but thought it best to include as they all flow into one another.  Please critique and provide comments on the poem for me, so that I can improve upon them throughout April.  I have no overall title for the poem series either at the moment, suggestions welcome.

i. Torpor

Wolves unleashed by the darkened skies;
As raindrops, they descend fluidly upon the camp.
Fires long extinguished hide their hungry eyes
And sheep fall forever, lost under the sleeping lamp.

Lambs seek shelter from the ravenous storm
Yet a lonely lion cub, raised by the flock
With uncertainties from sacrificing others wasn’t warm.
He wanted to fight, and not hide under a rock.

Surrounded by sheep, will the cub bleat or,
In time discover the truth and find his roar.

ii. Verity

In the wake of the raid
The cub travels towards the truth,
Unaware of the road that lies laid.
Leading to the end of his youth?

Dawn raises more vacillant questions;
Through dust his words dry,
Yet inside the ocean roars frustrations.
To return home: which is a lie?

Blind in the darkness, he watches not his feet
Arriving at a junction, which life to greet?

iii. Eschew

Too scared to continue, but to return a lie
Cold wet and hungry the cub’s conflicts
A wise omen shadows his plight with a cry
Daemon eyes glint, one of the crescent tricks?

The breaking light cracks daemon faces
Courage fills him with each ray of vim
Forging onwards to a new life with sturdy paces
Desire for truth blinding struggles in him

So little he knew of life and the greater land
No longer safe within his flock, does he fall or stand?


How much different would it be?

Just a prickly sickly thought,

What if the world was that of, 

Harry Potter or even Percy Jackson?

What if it was all an adventure,

The games of life being played.

Well, how much different would it be?

Because in the present context as well,

There are the games,

Being played,

For life and never forget those,

Being played by life.

Just a simple plain thought,

What if the world becomes the same,

As the world of Potter or Jackson?

How much different would it be?

Now that is a lol pic! :D


Here I tell a man’s story…

Here I tell a man’s story-

How he unleashed the power,

And achieved his glory.

Despite of the prevalent blood shower.

.

The man was adventurous,

Looking for the gold,

That is the most lustrous,

Which requires him to be quite bold.

.

He reached the bloody land.

Where there were present the relics of war,

He dug up the sand,

Till he reach the earth’s core.

.

Astounded, he found the big egg,

Made up of pure gold,

Without anyone’s reg,

He touched it, so cold.

.

The thunder rocked the sky-

And descended a big creature,

Scared, darkened color of deep fry,

And that very much tells about his feature.

.

The man, once terrified,

Did not know what to do,

And even cried,

And even peed, but not in the loo.

.

The creature sensed fear,

And spoke as if wanting man to adhere-

“Oh My Dear!

How dare you touch this sphere?”

.

The man was shaken,

But gained his sword ,

His body, nicely awaken,

Cut the head of the darkness’ lord.

.

The fight was won,

Which wasn’t a fight at all,

The deed was done,

The man’s head rose in pride tall.

.

Here comes the end of the story,

How a man unleashed the power,

And attained his false glory,

With no blood shower.

That was fun… I loved writing it. I know it is absurd, but that is the best thing about it, I think. Just for a quick laugh- yes, you can laugh reading this hopeless flop story.


The Red Carpet of My Mind

Catherine aka "Bird":

Reblogged from Everyone Has a Story…

Originally posted on Everyone Has A Story...:

It occurs to me that making friends on the internet is kind of an odd exercise when it comes to me. I spend a lot of time watching people…how they speak, what they say, body language, tone inflection, etc. Last night, I spent a good amount of time talking with Sara, and we talked for hours about subjects I’ve almost never discussed with anyone in my entire life, except maybe with Audra.

When I first set up my blog, it never occurred to me to not put my picture on my gravatar or in the About Me section…But some of my new friends on the internet chose to keep their physical appearance a secret. In fact, most of my Blogosphere friends who opted for anonymity have been assigned a “look” in my head based on some pretty goofy criteria.

For instance, Sara looks like Katherine Heigl to me in my…

View original 340 more words

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