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it perches on my rounded lips
as a bird prepared for flight.
I will fill it with my soul
until it's bulging - days stretched
so thin they hardly separate
and butterfly mornings blur
into strawberry eves.
In a blink it will be gone,
a breath too hard and
beneath the harvest(ed)
in pleasing arrangements-
to be laid
upon the flowerbed
Mother NatureThere is a soul,
That seems to flow,
Beneath the gold,
Of the suns glow.
It flows within,
It floats within,
You feel its breath,
In the wind,
You feel its death,
With every sin.
It does not think,
It does not hate,
It only loves,
It doesn’t berate.
And her breath,
We have a peaceful death
Cigarettes and AutumnsAll these cigarettes and autumns are piling up
on me. Dead leaf at dusk from a
hoary apple tree.
Eden's falling with each
tick of the tock, measured by periodic
fingers counting down an imaginary clock.
I can nearly see the golden leaves
dancing on the breeze while the
incense smell of burning fronds
waft tenaciously through the trees.
It's a good time to be alive.
Soon enough the frost on the window's
going to hide the impending
autumn happening outside.
So presently I'm exhaling stale smoke
on the window, lamenting summer's
passing with a clear view
of each hue of a burning bush,
of each push towards doom
already intent on being reborn.
Fascinated by the symmetry.
Fascinated by the symmetry.
SeptemberThe page hasn't turned
The sun tilts on the edge
Before it falls
You have caught it already
Trees with a hesitant shudder
Shake leaves that aren't ready to die
The breath passes
But when you look up
The clouds are pulling back
They have smelled it
They are leaving the thick air
Near the ground
To escape it
But you have to stay
And when you feel it again
There will be frost
Autumn Fire (Change of Season) I feel the change of season
this autumn fire
the nights getting longer
the impending darkness
this cold breath down my neck.
But I am aflame and
burning with passsion
to a degree that it
almost consumes me.
Memories and dreams
the future and the past
they are merging
in a round-dance of autumn leaves
in the yellow light of street lamps
or in the dim grayness of
one drizzly September day.
I am day dreaming
and the world around me becomes
like the surface of a pond
into which I dip my finger
and suddenly the whole picture
starts to ripple and disperse
and the voices of people talking to me are muted
and I hear something else.
The veil is thinni
Last Days of AutumnDays grow shorter, the air more chill and crisp
Sweaters will be replaced with coats in a matter of days
Awaiting the final leaf of autumn to fall
Cool breezes shift gears into frigid winds
Gray clouds blanket the once blue sky
The sun hiding its shy face behind the the dyed cotton puffs
Rakes and leaf blowers emerge from hibernation in their garage dens
Wildlife gather the last of their food for a three-month slumber
Soon rain will be substituted with snow
As the last days of autumn come and go
Opening welcome arms for Christmas, for school holidays, for New Year's
Bidding farewell to autumn and good day to winter
Everyone Forgets the RainThe lightning tore into the clouds
Their pale, innocent faces darkened and their eyes shut
Their eyes shut and their blood turned to water
The water, their blood, their tears, poured down upon the earth
The thunder cried, loud wails echoing across the sky
And the lightning grew brighter, prideful in its massacre
And as the lightning swelled with pride, the thunder
That poor, poor mother, cried for the loss of her children
She cursed the lightning, cursed the man that would dare take her children from her
And the clouds, those poor children, those happy, innocent children
They withered as they cried, as they bled out in the sky
And as I looked upon the spectacle
As I stared up at the sky
As their tears hit my face
As their blood drenched my hair
My own tears joined in the mixture of their blood
Their sorrow became my own
And as the clouds finally dissipated
As the thunder quieted, her grief stealing her voice
As the lightning vanished, having stolen the lives of his children
I was blind
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