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The Local Loch, August 2014 (27th), BI enter the trees.
Between the dozing leaves,
hugging canopy and soothing shade
I awe at a swan bathe.
Cruiseliner, white, pure, naked
graceful, living china.
Seven others chat by the hidden soil shore.
They see me, spread out ornamentally,
politely move away
and then fly
with curved ceramic blades
ready to pierce gravity’s oppression.
I've found Peace.
...of a blissful HeavenEver dreamed of what heaven was like?
Maybe it's a wide field of evergreen grass
surrounded by the lurking forest trees,
where all you could inhale was the damp leaves on the ground
and pines from the trees above, an intoxicating smell
that leaves you high after the rainstorm
Maybe it's in an oasis located within a desert,
however, it is not scorching ablaze,
but it's warm and you feel your skin tingling
a whole new sensation is evolving inside of you
and the warmth wraps you up in a blanket of sunshine
Or maybe it's at the peak of a mountain
where you reign over the world on your solid throne of boulders
the invisible wind is your invitation of escape
and while the slight breeze passes by
you begin to shiver with an adrenaline rush
I could be wrong and you might be right, but tell me dear, what is heaven like?
The Local Loch, August 2014 (27th)Prehistory’s iPad.
When light hit the water
a supernova dance of
scurrying dust swayed
in their amber infinite.
When the wind tapped,
the waves flapped their feathers
and spread into
a migration of curly black lines
on a child’s drawing,
choppy pattern after choppy pattern,
wave conforming to wave
into a wallpaper covering
algae, flotsam, dead bricks, dead stone,
until the irregular birds changed the flow.
Be it the duck that draped a dress
behind in a V-shaped groove,
or the pudding-plump coots
who gently honked, imprinting
flat bubbles on water.
They live in the reflection of Life.
Fringed by feathers like icy mountaintops
and dead fish bloated on pollution,
an Irn Bru bottle imitates the nature it killed.
An orange bread packet is ignored by the mallard
for the tragedy it brought to town.
It’s a flat town, a houseless town,
but still a moving community of
twig islets and breadcrumb empires.
Fringing on their utopia is us,
us standing still from dry grey pavement
Citron SunriseDimples accompany her smile,
like children opening their first birthday present
or wise women reminiscing.
Morning fog, sighing over the hills,
calling a lost friend.
Soft, unrelenting voice,
tart like lemon cheesecake,
softened by cream ravines
and crumbling mountains.
Canary wings in flight,
yellow haze seducing fireflies,
taking us away to
beginning and end.
I can feel the chill on her shallow breath
And the color's draining from her youthful face
She's bleeding out, I tell you
In red, yellow, and orange
And there ain't a single thing we can do
She'll want to be buried just like her mother
Laid to rest in a simple white coffin
No roses set on her grave
It's not warming
But it's final
Even as the rest of the world
Collapses into her absence
Perhaps she knows
Perhaps she's always known
Theme Prompt - AirIt's a study in duality
Like so many other things.
Calm, gentle, soft, kind
Feathering over my skin.
Rough, wild, sharp, angry
Destroying all in its path.
Air is all of these things
And so many, many more.
Its the pulse of my lungs,
The storm lashing my home,
The thing I need to live,
Though it slowly kills me.
To harness it takes skill,
To use it takes vision.
Take the invisible and
Make it completely tangible.
That is the basis of me,
The core of who I am.
RainLooking into the sky,
I watch every tear fall
ever so slightly from the heavens.
"Why are you sad?"
The sky answers with a thunderous boom.
The sun hides away,
almost as if it were afraid of the sky.
It's so cold.
I stand in the rain,
in wait for the sun to come out again.
In the meantime though,
I let the tiny drops of ice
shatter on my bare skin.
Warmth no longer exists.
Evening Windwhistling wind blows in the evening
it carries on the cobalt throne
the ghosts are singing in the winds
as Banshees gather dusk’s fell dirge
life in shadow and joy in night
subdued colours feed the mind
under stars the spirit wanders
as the rain taps gently down
clouds are dancing in the heavens
bringing life and liberty
can you feel the Goddess tremble
as she sheds her sacred tears?
Growth SpiralGrowth Spiral
Bumping along the stones every day
Ass-backward, look at how they point
So you watch behind you all the time
Showing the world a face derided
Hunting snatches of other lives
You curl into yourself so tightly
All to be known better after you die
The treasure hunters saw open your house
And marvel at the beauty you created
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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