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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.
Away at HomeLord, be my home and all my stay
When even home feels far away:
Let my own kin say what they may,
Lord, be my home and all my stay.
For heaven holds me in its sway,
My single passion day to day.
Lord, be my home and all my stay
When even home feels far away.
Sandwich IslandPotato salad and a turkey bacon:
All it took to show me how the days
Have heaped on like a sandwich in the making.
Twenty years now stacked on bright red trays
With food and paper plates and Styrofoam,
Symbols of good taste and friendly ways.
I wonder what had roused her then to roam
And settle in this aging college town.
She heard me speak the language of her home
And something must have moved her heart deep down
To save my weekly order in her mind.
Some turn to comfort food upon a frown,
And yet more consolation there I find
A fullness of a heartfelt， hometown kind.
Memory #2: NinjaIn the final days of APUSH my junior year, our teacher had us write letters to ourselves five years from now. Last week it came into the mail, and understandably, I was curious to see what my 16 year old self wanted to tell my 21 year old self. As it turns out, he didn’t really have much to say (so my memory of not knowing what to write was confirmed), only to talk to a bunch of my friends and to refer to a game we used to play: Ninja.
I don’t remember who brought Ninja into West Ranch High School, but I remember that when it did hit it was the bomb. The basic premise of the game was that everyone would stand in a circle, and you would count to three. On three, everyone would strike a pose, and taking turns, you would try to hit other people’s hands to get them out. The goal was to be the last person standing.
I’ve played it a couple times in college, and hearing of other people’s different versions, I can safely conclude that we took Ninja way too serious
Memory #1: The Perfect BiteI don't remember what age I was exactly when I had In-N-Out for the first time. It was when I was five or six, around preschool or kindergarten. But I can vividly remember what it tasted like, where we were, and how I earned it.
At the time, I had two major haunts: the Duarte public library and the LA Zoo. Now in those days, the public libraries had a deal of some sort where if you read five books, you could get a certificate for a free hamburger. Being the kind of kid who would check out and read 20 or so books a week, I made short work of it. I remember my mom taking me and my little sister to the In-N-Out in Arcadia, the one that has no indoor seating, and I remember she took us to a park. It was quite a nice summer day, and we sat on a picnic bench in the shade. My mom let me carry the bag, and I remember that I was ravenous by the time we got there. It smelt so good, and when I bit into it, I don't think I have ever had a better bite of a burger than that first bite. Soft bun, sau
Oil and WaterOil: slick, flammable, flavorful, congealing.
The touch of the sea, like touch of a pool
The creatures do not frighten me –
Their abode does that well enough on its own.
A blessing on your house in a cross drawn
Thumb dipped in olive oil and touched on thee.
Anointed to serve and to go as He calls.
Oil: sanctified, anointing, blessing, protecting.
Anointed son, yet unable to follow
You had to choose to go across the sea –
The storming, raging sea with waves that swallow
You had to choose water for me.
The touch of the mast like anchor strong
I would not let go, but I would go –
The distinction is small, but enough for thee.
A blessing on your house in a cross drawn
A thumb dipped in olive oil and lo!
Anointed to serve and to go as He calls.
Oil: precious, common, multipurpose.
The mast broke off in my hand as the waves
Rose to ensnare the cast and crew whole
And out on the crest stood He who saves
While we on board stumbled like
Stand by the Old Gods
In days of old, against staggering odds, we stood for the Old Gods.
Stretched and burned, we never erred, for the alternative never occurred.
Mjolnir we wore, in peace and war; we defiantly stood with the sons of Borr.
The new age of blight came almost overnight; the Cross overtook everything in sight.
Centuries past, and we have returned at last; the overlord and his slaves' damages were vast.
Gone are many of our glorious monuments; However, there still remain Nordic governments.
Days still bear our creators' names, and countless stories spawned from Loki's tricky games.
After so long, I can finally proclaim in rhyme: We stand by the Old Gods, after all this time!
Je hais cette race d'impies impitoyables!Je hais cette race d’impies impitoyables!
Tic, tac, tic, tac,… le temps semble comme arrêté…
Puis glisse en de longues lenteurs amounêtées :
On ne sait trop bien s’il recule ou s’il avance.
Le son s’y est tu, enfoui sous cette avalanche.
En déchirure du temps et mortel accroc,
L’onde de choc ouvre sa gueule, montre crocs.
Des gouttes de sang s’échappent en chapelets
D’une prière inutile à un Dieu distrait.
Une goutte se projette au loin et s’étire
En filament vermeil qu’un mur là-bas attire.
Sur sa route, un éclat de soleil la surprend
La faisant briller tel un rubis transparent.
La goutte glisse, glisse et se frotte aux secondes
En un ralenti usant les nanosecondes.
La goutte s’écrase en un point sur le mur nu :
Un point rouge colorant le front d’un élu
En un millésime de seconde immobile.
Le cercle redevient ce manège labile,
sharadigm piftyes it grows colder, but it's not yet cold.
not just the season, but the climate shifts
through cycles, decades and ages untold.
most of time's hands move at scales we can't see,
but great and small speak through corollary;
my cycles, decades and stages unfold.
i see my impairments, i see my gifts;
yes i grow older, but i'm not yet old.
the world's a mess, though our fortune's not sold;
we may still outlive the death of our sun.
our final telling needn't be tragic;
the highest science seems like it's magic.
our race is not over, it's just begun;
yes it grows colder, but i'm not yet old.
Of No SignificanceI am of no significance
in the world of men
as I strive to walk in light
I am a wanderer
who claims no home
except for the embrace
of the blissful One.
I am a child
of the Great Spirit
one who strives to be not
only of this world.
Do not look to me
for mortal relations
I only acknowledge Spirit
as the lasting love of life.
In search for the Wooden Halldress yourself like a witch of the oldtimes,
wake up under the cypress of Lore,
and the one who is not will command you
go to sleep and become someone new.
take the map to go up to the cavern,
with a boat cross the sea, chase the sun
when aloud no one’s ever a liar,
in the halls of the King of the Huns
as the question as told by the old man,
become someone new once again
in the halls of the king of the Huns, you
spin the world on a web, on a song.
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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