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Birth of PoetryI tangled my fingers in the curls of the universe,
pulled. The earth fell out: round, warm, spinning.
Awkward and shy, she wondered how she got here; how
a rock that got wet and grew moss could be significant.
So I scooped her up in my fingers, breathed her scent:
(lilies and oceans and ozone and forests and fish and birds
and whales and rain and the empty elegance in wolf howls)
death and life. I found chaos
and knew beauty.
Just A House
Summer once saw sweating men, baked in tar and blood,
hammering new shingles to my sunken, moss-infested roof.
There were children in the yard:
girls who squealed to delight the boys
who chased them with lizard tails and frog eggs,
unconsciously calculating the exact angle
of lip to lip for that perfect first kiss.
Mothers gossiped from the sitting room
watching through my eyes as the years settled,
soft and timid, upon those glowing heads;
I measured time by the weight of footsteps
grown from playful to purposeful over creaking floors.
A forest-bordered orchard gave me shade in heat,
shelter in cold, and beauty regardless.
Apple pie, pear butter, cherry and rhubarb jam -
each scent a visitor to my kitchen
where laughter, love, and comfort kept them company.
But my tall companions lay fallen,
victim, as I, to the volatile will of man;
they've whittled me down from home
to sagging bones, and I am just a house.
luhv --verbAs a small child, love was not a word bound by definition. Love was not a word at all. It was my father sitting beside my bed, and our nightly exchange:
"Papa, read me a bedtime story."
"Alright," he replied, opening his hands like a book. He pretended to scan the contents of his palm. My face split into a grin, knowing the next words before they came. "Once upon a time," he began, his tenor voice filled with drama. Already I was giggling. Then he closed his hands with a soft clap. "The end!"
"No!" I squealed. "A real story, Papa!"
Afterward, Papa pressed his whiskery face to my forehead, whispered the same prayer he whispered over all his children; he continues to whisper it to himself, though his children are far too old for whiskery kisses or pretend bedtime stories.
As I grew older, love changed. It grew into screaming matches with my sisters: words flung at each other with enough precision to maim, but not kill. Each of us struggled with the need to be close and still occupy a spa
Rain and Its BowsVERSE I
Tunes on the stereo
talk about rain & its bows
say chin up, walk straight
but it's just past eight
in the mornin', been
up all night missin' you babe
and startin' to feel I might be late sayin
Sometimes when the sun shines
it's too damn bright
sometimes when the sky cries
feels just right to me
cause no arms surround me
no voice resounding
to carry me peaceful toward my sleep
Been keepin' my coffee company
last three hours with a dash of cream
and sweet thoughts of you -
that deep golden hue when
your smile crawls toward your eyes
the way our fingers brush
and my heart learns to fly
But sometimes that sun shines
and it's too damn bright
sometimes the sky cries
and feels so right
cause baby your arms ain't 'round me
no sweet voice resounding
to carry me peaceful to my sleep
No, no sweet voice resounding
to carry me peaceful to my sleep
Oh and looking back won't we say
that's just the way things go?
We whisper soft each promise lost
lay 'em pret
A Fool's AdviceThere are monsters -
beasts with honeyed tongues
who lure you deep
into twisted places
& promise delights
you have no courage to dream;
they rub velvet across your skin
and you, weak and vulnerable,
so easily led astray
want it. want more. want
to feel the monsters' mint breath
curling like smoke in your throat
to fill you and leave you
Hold your armor close, child.
Venture no where
without your vigilance.
Living is an occupation
best practiced vicariously.
On UnfurlingFor the world, I paste petals
to my lips - leak nectar
and let them drink.
I laugh, a lion's satisfied roar
& stretch myself into shapes
that impress, leave them too perplexed
to acknowledge what he demands of me:
Stitch marks where my exaggerations
proved too fantastic; acid gurgling
in each labored inhalation; a cracked
& bleeding mouth which cannot frown
until granted permission -a gift he presents unwrapped
as though it were simple, ordinary.
As though I did not need it
the way a raindrop dives toward land
spreads itself lovingly upon the leaf
and dissolves into something stronger,
potent, more beautiful than it knows.
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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