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Beach DayIn undulating waves that pound the shore—
Their frothy tides embracing higher waters—
I saw my joy, and sat down to adore
The one this heart would daily choose to wander.
No distance quite too far, no background din
Too raucous that I cannot stay and ponder
All the currents stirred I'm swimming in
Inside my heart, a longing still for more,
And wanderlust for oceans to explore.
Wax and WaneOh! wide-eyed wonder high up in the sky,
My only link transcending time and space,
How many separations have gone by
Before the searing coldness of your gaze?
And always in the fullest of your phase,
When many separations must go by,
'Tis then you choose to show your pallid face
And wide-eyed, sunder sighs up to the sky.
And yet you bear no ill-will, though I try
To pin my loneliness within your place.
For when I have my love within my hold,
You wrap the night around you in its folds
And from our private union hide your face
(Oh! Wide-eyed wonder!) from sighs up to the sky.
No FallowIf fruitful labor has but one sad fate,
'tis that my mind cannot in fallow lie.
My wearied hands do not procrastinate,
I promise you, but as I sit and try
To summon up the simplest of a noun,
I'm flummoxed, flustered, full of bluster.
Fertility demands that life lay down
And give until there's none to muster:
O! what a cruel device, this sacrifice!
The StruggleThough once I said it was adversity
That birthed the most imaginative verse,
In darkness lies no creativity,
Despair itself destroys and gives no birth.
It murders, leaving no recourse for mercy,
Swallowing up the brightest minds, its maw
Insatiable except for vilest cursing
Of self-inflicted wounds all rubbed and raw.
But when the light inside me flickers fire
And cuts through darkness with its needle rays,
The smallest candlelight might then inspire
Poetic justice for defeated days.
In light alone do shadows find their shape,
The struggle from which poems find escape.
WoundsThe time when verses flow most freely from my mind
Is not when life has altogether been too kind:
The echoed strains of joy, what words could catch and capture
The speechlessness of laughter, hearts abrim with rapture?
It's hopelessness and sorrow baring wounds through words,
A crust of scabbed emotions daring to be heard;
It itches mightily, and though you want to rip
Apart the hurt and all reminders in one strip,
It stings to know there is no bottom but an ooze,
This awful spring of inspiration, pain-infused.
But give it time to heal, protect it from all harm,
And off it comes. The skin beneath is new and warm
And paler than before, but solid in its form.
Memory #4: The CostIn my sophomore year, we would have prayer meetings every Wednesday afternoon. I would say that weekly meetups and prayer meetings were the times I learned the most that year. On one level, I learned about prayer itself, and how many different ways you could pray. You could pray through the Word (praying through a psalm was a particular favorite of mine), you could pray in one voice with each other, you could simply praise and adore God, or thank him. Along with my meetups I learned more about confessing in prayer as well. On another level, I learned a lot about the many different things we could intercede for. We would pray for our campus, our ministry, our missionaries, and most importantly, our people and the various facets of their lives. It felt that every prayer meeting was learning a new thing about prayer.
But even more than these substantial lessons, I learned a lot from the older people who led the prayers. Seeing their example as prayerful men and women left a deep impressio
UnspokenUntil the day appointed when I stand
And tell you all the hope you fill in me,
I'll tell you naught of what I understand
Within my heart, unseized by urgency.
For in the promise now I see no need
To haste the swelling feeling deep inside
Nor give up hope: to pray and not to plead,
To slowly bridge this shortening divide.
But we are closer than I could have thought,
And in the light of such proximity
The sentiment our interactions wrought
Are all too easy for your eyes to see.
For now, let this reward you for your wait:
The tenderness my actions indicate.
LifthrasirWhose princely air proudly
Passed the sea in freefalls,
Who sought peace, sword flaming,
Striking words like forgefalls,
Pride of Berk, battleworn,
Breathing life where strife falls,
Prized by Líf in prayer:
Their pressed lips, blessed footfalls.
The Paradox of HistoryThe Kingdom walks through time,
Eternity through ages.
The Bride prepares her nuptials
While already wed.
The God beyond all days
Descended to the manger,
And so His Church is spotless
While on the climb to heaven.
Christ's Body, with its muscle
Obedient to nerves,
That breated and moved, commanded
By his human reason and will.
Just so His Body moves,
Directed by His Spirit,
Walking through the years
With Pope and with its members.
The Vine that God has planted,
Christ, our life and glory,
Has channeled grace eternal
Through His branches, grown in time.
Trojas WanderliedSternenloser Himmel, die Nacht trägt Trauer, stumm,
Was ist geschehen, Gestirne, sagt, was treibt euch um?
Habt ihr denn nicht gesehen - die Zeit des Kampfes ist vorbei,
Doch weh, oh weh, den kommenden, die gold'ne Stadt entzwei.
Sie kamen an, so heißt es ja, bei Nacht im Fackelschein,
Durch List und Tücke schlichen sie in Troja sich hinein.
Und nicht ein Kind, und keine Frau, hat den Morgen erlebt,
Seid ihr, Himmelsgöttern gleich, mit uns schmerzvoll erbebt?
Seht auch ihr die letzten Tage, die der Menschheit grauen,
Oder ist's ein neues Zeitalter, wenn wir uns recht noch trauen?
Doch jeder Held ist müd' heut' Nacht, geschafft oder gefallen,
Wer soll das Volk beschützen, wenn die neuen Übel wallen?
Oh sternenloser Himmel, oh Nacht, du trauerst stumm,
Doch sag uns doch, nur irgendwie, wann ist das Dunkel um?
Wir brauchen Licht, wir leben so, wir Menschen fürchten uns,
Denn in den dunklen Stunden gar, verlässt uns selbst die Kunst.
Und kein F&
Last Reign of the Summer KingThe reign of the Summer King fades, as sun sets on day
soon will be the time to release his spirit, his bones born away,
winter draws near now is the time to set the bonfires alight
watch the orange-yellow glow climb into the cold eternal night,
with it the Old Stag has withered and turns gray.
Buried deep beneath the Earth his body will decay,
women gather round, flowers woven in their hair, to dance and sway,
time to harvest the crops and prepare for winter's plight,
The ritual knife is blessed, ready to follow the ancient way,
with the blood of the Summer King for our good fortune we pay,
with hope our sacrifice will lesson winter's might,
drink the last of summer's warm wine, still your heart against fright,
on this final hour we come together and to the Goddess pray,
Lined With GoldWalking through the dreams of old,
To stop where the path grows cold.
Time to finish and be bold,
And to line the dreams with gold.
Ones that once faded to gray,
Give me reason not to stray.
A love that remains to stay,
From night till the light of day.
New dream in the heart to grow,
To out pour and over flow.
Causing the whole heart to glow,
And the time to become slow.
The sky fills with many hues,
Reflecting all the good news.
With many options to choose,
And nothing that's left to loose.
power of a wishDeep in my pocket
I keep one wish
Like a dear friend
It comforts me
I hold it in the morning
Then I’m not lonely
And bravely will
Weather any adversity
Summon great strength
In the presence of faith
And though the storms
May be troubling
I’ll stand my ground
Secure and clear
With wish in hand
Hope is near
A Paradise Wreathed in Flame.To the core and the end of it all.
Where the dragons and the phoenix crawl.
From the tiniest snakes,
To the greatest lakes,
It's a plane where we can once again be small.
Moving PainsHonestly, I’d given up – given up on everything –
I tired of calling with no response – I wearied of every singing
Bastard telling me to feel what couldn’t be felt.
I’d given up – written it all off as a hand wrongly dealt
And moved on with my life without thought of what I was offering.
I’d given up – but you had not –
You kept coming at me with all that you fought
So hard to achieve and so hard to maintain –
You kept coming back with this silly refrain:
I loved you from your first greeting breath
And I will love you till your final resting death.
I loved you at your best and your worst
And I will love you at the last as the first.
But what love is evergreen – what love never fades –
When the bluff is called – when you pull off the shades
That hide your eyes that swell with tears –
When you’re forced to say it for all to hear –
What can you say but admit that these were empty charades
A Vision Spoken SoftlyJust as a trans-global red carpet draped itself across the equator,
A vision spoken softly. Deftly, deafly endearing the wild madness.
Bent and spent across the sky, spores from fungus spread disaster.
Deliberate and lackluster, incompetent vigilance. Ebb and flow.
Jesus, Jesus on the wallJesus, Jesus on the wall
Crucifix's about to fall
Barely hanging on the wall
Over the main entrance door
Open your heart
Carry your weight
For the most part
It's not too late
Jesus, Jesus on the wall
I don't, but I trust you know:
Who's the holiest of them all ?
Is it me ? Or is it not ?
Smaller the faith's
Bigger the words
But Jesus saves
Who gives efforts
Jesus, Jesus on the wall
Let me dust you - head to toe
Yet I trust I'm not that tall
There ! I dropped you to the floor
I too could fall
And I could break
My very soul
By a mistake
Christ does care
Me, he could fix
Like I can repair
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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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