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Save meUnder roaring sky, amid the angry waves,
heard her piercing cry resound from deep below.
All alone, I fight against the current.
Out in dark, but lead by ardent heart
paying not the slightest heed to
what they call 'Insanity'
Down the depths, the darkness
palls. I find my moon;
dim, the sprites
guide us back,
back to -
VengeanceVitreous eyes aflame with anger:
a fiery pique -
that is no more a feeling;
it will have you encircled.
A face-off is imminent.
'There's no where to hide.'
Imaginary fettersBlazing squinting eyes
that watchful shadow
keeps sidling behind.
He bound himself with fetters
of sneering looks,
and opinions, if only he'd see,
The soul attire of conduct
and uttered words,
reflected but sham image
of the inside.
He scrutinized his portrait
in the looking-through glass,
but could not recognize the one
he had become.
He perceived he lived more
suppressing and profoundly hiding
that insipid life did
when he'd unleashed
his real core.
Years in her eyes Every birthday she wakes up early; and with her intimate diary and a pen she gaily trudges up a green hill - a fifteen-minute walk from where she lived. Under the one solemnly standing, big old tree there she sits down. It is the usual time she looked back at a year passed. A year torn between rapture and grief; hours of anxiety, and moments of relief; depressing falls, and soaring spirits. A year where there are chapters stained with the loss of the ones we loved, and others ornamented with such time we had with wonderful friends, and rimmed with rather great acquaintances.
This year the view from the top was overwhelmingly breath-taking that she'd to contemplate the beauty of nature for some time; and after taking few last glimpses of the gently bright orange disc, before it was far too unbearable to be an object for her delicate vitreous eyes, she went to her old seat. As she opened her diary, the morning breeze softly rustled stirring the withered leaves o
The story of my life One magically beautiful day or splendidly starry night, somebody accosts me and says 'I love you.', instantly lifting me up on top of the world. Days pass and I ,abruptly, take a shot right in the core blowing me off the edge. As I fall I see all our gorgeous memories fading away up amidst the clouds, except for two moments that stick to my head: the moment when they made me the happiest person in the world; and that when they took away everything leaving me with another stab in my heart..everything goes black.
I open my eyes to such ghastly atmosphere! Having reached everything around me, the fire of boredom devours any interest in them I might have, or even had have! Dull and gaunt, is what they had become. I shut myself up in my room dodging those intrusive inquires, though in consciousness meant but good - I do know, but that doesn't make them any less bothering: alluding to pallor, absence of mind, and loss of appetite to do anything. I just wanna be al
Brutal worldAwoke he was in dark and horrid place,
alone with neither guide nor shred of light,
where path of doubt and self-denial he'd face,
along with whispers that disturb the night.
'Won't clock's ticking ever cease?' Therefore -
a quick, but prudent, decision shall be made;
for chilly snags of life did freeze my core,
'O God, that night appears quite loath to fade.'
He wandered here and there with slouching back;
he had to find that starry skied-road,
to cast the arrows of light upon that track
and bury the weight of such a heavy load.
'Forsaking kindness or, retaining it?,
in such a brutal world which one does fit?'
Orchard of LoveO, orchard of love, how glamorous you are!
The moment she entered such effusion,
her soul was transfigured with elation;
the enthralling scenery silenced every scruple,
and had her vision bound to the merry present.
Amid the bewitching blossoms she danced,
and swayed in the gentle breeze;
conceived she'd got it all -
for what can be more worthy?
A passionate adoration, a poetic atmosphere,
aflame with his mesmerising charm.
She yielded utterly;
a feather carried by his wind.
A dainty sunflower under the star;
her sustenance for life; her beacon of dreams.
She loved him with no fear nor limits,
forgetting about her own will.
Insipid, she'd grown to him;
a change he desired.
Rebuffing all the heralds, she soared high.
He broke her wings.
What once was the pulse of glee,
is now draining tears.
Such change made her perceive:
not every love story a fairy-tale.
O, orchard of love, how sham you are!
Soul Painting Immersing the brush in a glass of water; dipping it in the palette within her left hand mixing up some colours; and then gently gliding the damp thick tip of the brush over the canvas, bringing her imagination to life. She kept doing this for some hours, and paid no heed to the late hour, nor to her sleepy state - for she was about to finish her masterpiece...
Beth is a very talented painter, and a passionate one. Painters usually care too much about details, but she was overly fastidious a person. Her only indulgence existed amongst her painting tools. Her life was a bit of a mess; she was never happy in her social life; she'd got no lover, nor friends, but enough fans. She was deficient in many noble merits that the power of fame had long ago covered - come on who's perfect!- so in real life not everyone liked her personality. As an artist, she could perceive the power of colours; she'd always entertained that colours' greatest power is being so meaningful
Spring is a NinjaI know spring must change things,
but she's like a ninja at night
with a sly smile and a subtle presence.
She must have trained for years
with saffron robed monks
to master the imperceptibly quick movements
that noiselessly sneak tiny green buds onto twigs
and hide small pink flowers
around maroon leaves no longer than my pinky.
I see her work each morning
in the delicate shifting
of one thing to the next
but I never see her,
and it feels like each change she makes
has been there forever.
Wooden WhaleKnock, knock, knock
said the whale
is this cold
as you float
When the men
come one day
you will die
under the waves
of this empty ocean
So wail in
Third DestinationThe sky was grey
It was raining
the whole day
No houses, no trees
There was a scent
of salty, bitter tears
Then wind was blowing
Away the broken
pieces of paper
My soul, my home
That was the memory of my
Beautiful WorldBorn free here on earth:
Huge herds in the world.
Wild and free - so live animals
In our unique beautiful world.
Huge forests once on earth
Until the man was born.
Nature so green. Grazing on glade
Is a deer quite shy but close.
Rain over dry countries.
I see the awakening of nature.
Rainbow makes me dream
Peacefully after a hot dry night.
Fog over high mountains,
Waterfall – force of nature,
Silence … just a bird chirping
When the morning is awake.
Sun standing high in the sky
But when the night will soon be dark:
Dark blue is the sky then -
I see the world with different eyes
As long as it still exists.
Because I am just a part of life
In a dying world untouched.
Heaven and EarthFree,
Feel the breeze,
Float upon the stars,
Sink into the ocean,
Climb a mountain,
Sing to be heard,
Walk on an Earth,
That has its jewels restored.
Breathe in the air,
Fresh and sharp,
Live to be seen,
Speak with confidence,
The world is yours.
Run through the trees,
Barefoot and proud,
Run wild and free,
Leap over a crystal stream,
Pass the golden furred deer,
And know they’re here to stay.
We all have a place,
From the tiniest bug,
To the thundering elephant,
Balance is key.
Let the woods echo with life,
Let the sea’s heartbeat,
Free from disease.
We all belong here,
But respect the Earth,
And she shall provide and protect.
“Heaven and Earth do more than hold us between them. They expect us to deserve it.” Heaven and Earth by Nora Roberts.
(Late) Spring cleanThe cobwebs and frost
(or they ought to be)
The first blossom caught in the wind--
Not snow flurries.
Nature seems lapse this year,
When it comes to removing Winter’s dust sheets,
And beginning Spring cleaning
nightlifedreamers come out at night
but the night is broken
hope is a scalpel
dissecting the moons soft
edges until she winks; cresent
reach out with moonshine vines
wishing for a semblance of an
embrace because only the sky can
hold her but he is too vast to
feel at times and infinite arms can be
forgotten because there is no end;
Ocean DreamsGentle ocean
Aquatic murmurs and sighs
drifting through the damp night.
Feeling the water tug at the sand
washing away right beneath your toes
A hushed melody
when the surf
tenderly kisses the shore.
past your ankles.
Too soonSteel shining safety pins
stabbing through velvet,
Midnight ink seeping
from clean, perfect wounds.
Watch them, my darling,
with long practiced patience;
Their sprinkles will lighten
your sparkle-dulled eyes.
Wavering fingers through
at first morning glow.
Come now, my darling,
it's too soon to join them,
Your heart lacks the freedom
of your brilliant mind.
That summer nightSitting amid the silky sand grains
that glisten under the silver moonlight;
contemplating the forth worlds above,
I yearn to comprehend the eerie language -
of those forever-glittering gazing eyes.
The bittersweet northern wind rustles
blowing to me the spray of the mild sea;
I shiver, and then,
breathe in the most exquisite smell;
and along their melody my heart merrily leaps
Among so poetic atmosphere, a comet shines:
lighting up the horizon,
enthralling my soul, and mesmerising my mind,
as it sweeps the sky with its luminous tail -
of magical golden dust, and sparkling water drips.
To my feet I shift my weight to bid
my farewells to the transient guest as
it exists the scene;
drooping my eyelids, drowning in a trance,
I make my wish:
'May all the years' nights be as -
fabulous as this summer's splendid one'
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More