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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
Angel of JusticeI am the Angel 'Justice'
mine, fiercely sought after scales.
For in my balance
In my presence always
Satan does fail.
And, shall flee
should I be for thee.
For he knows, the time is at hand.
His fear is great
for I never deviate.
When the Lord hath spoken
I take command!
And I shall remain
unto the end of time,
slow, and precise, my chore.
That all may see
the truth rejoice.
I spread my wings
at the guilty's door!
Devil's ReignHe walks the earth
to and fro.
No one sees him as he walks.
Still he is there
as sure as the darkness.
He lives,he breeds, he stalks;
the innocent prey that he hunts
It is a wonderful time, indeed
to breath upon them the breath
disrupt their lives,
corrupt their seed.
In his hands are deciet
His mouth, dissembling.
To know him is to know death
darkness, prison and chains.
He warms your hands
with his strategems
...as slowly, you learn his name.
And you discover there is
no way out.
You have entered the devil's reign.
IntangibleYesterday...was a butterfly
a fragile, delicate jewel.
Given me, in nonchalance
used, like a careless tool...
Those days gone by like big white clouds
passed through serenity;
a time stood 'still'; captured and framed
in this place called memory.
Where birds sang, sweet and soft;
where the wind, caressed the tall grass.
Where innocence, was the eye of a doe;
a beauty, come to pass...
For there came a time for learning
the winds of change
whipped, and turned;
through all live 'unsuspecting'.
What the future can never relearn.
Queen of HeartsYou may be wondering as you read this
how she came to get her name.
The secret died with the man
she loved long ago
where today, her soul remains;
guarded and protected.
Beside him until the end of time.
There's no way - anyone
could break the chain
that binds her to his side.
..Though the Joker thought, he could win her
with his Jesters
three and four.
"The laugh of the town" thought they;
"Make her blood run cold".
The results, however, had startled him
so he crawled back on his knees;
bewildered by her, relentlessness
so prepared he, to beg, to plead.
But you're playing with the Queen of Hearts!
Don't attempt to 'begin' to amend!
Beaten at the start
with the rules
of your own game!
who knows all men.
Song of the ButterflyYou held my wings apart
watched me, flutter and shake
supspended in animation...
When you asked, when will she break?
You rubbend the dust from my wings
so I may never fly again.
Though my spirit is still not moved
and still you ask yourself, 'when'?
Your prisoner inside of a bottle
hidden for but a time.
Can your eye, discern not judgement?
Can you lead the blind?
Can you see how you've never held me?
For the lips of truth ARE my wings.
Look again, inside of your bottle - empty!
Hear the song that the butterlfy sings.
Raven and the DoveCry mercy - and remember
though locked with a key
(in this place, called memory)...
Where truth is bounty, thou can'st not run
yet it be born unto misery.
The dove flys with the raven
dark with the light;
together, they shant exist...
As the wind in the hand, face answereth to water
and the sands spill forth of the fist...
If life be like unto love without thee
than rather, I'd die this day;
my only true love, for whom I am born
through wrong choice my heart knows the grave.
As a firery arrow pierced to the heart
by this, my love awakened
to witness the cruelty engulfed in his soul
by essence, we are forsaken...
Be thou forever, therefore, vigilant!
With a steadfast eye;
Give thyself unto, 'her' care.
Let dove behold dove - through the heaven's light
THE CRYS OF HELL
should the raven be there.
ConfidenceCan you do it?
Only I can try.
Nothing can stand in my way,
Find the reason to stay.
Ignore the feelings of self doubt,
Don't give up.
Enter the barrier,
Nothing to lose.
Carry on and fight,
Everyone is waiting in the light!
I am what I eatso many choices
so little time
drive through slime
tomorrow I'll start over
clean and sober
back to my garden
back to my roots
delicious and satisfying
fresh veggies and fruits
next time I'm rushed
and wanting a treat
I'm going to remember
I am what I eat
The WaifThe child passed by my seat with empty palms
And begged for love to fill its soulful eyes.
For 'twas not hunger nor the need for alms
That left the waif so piteous in guise.
She had her home, if four walls and a roof
Was all the meaning she should yet require;
But in that place all hearts remained aloof,
A negligence deserving of all ire.
She stood in place; I stood and turned my face.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More