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The Little Boy
The little boy prayed that perhaps one day,
his mommy and daddy would stay and play.
Mom's always caught up in some messy fray,
dad is never home to play anyway.
He prayed this way...
"Dear Father in heaven I love you so,
hear these words from Tommy down here below.
I promise to be good, and this I know,
your love is like a river, it ever flows."
He went to bed and dreamt the night away,
playful dreams and happy thoughts did hold sway.
When he rose he hoped today would be the day,
that mommy and daddy with him would stay.
But as he looked around, he knew they'd gone,
off to live their lives leaving him alone.
The nanny made him toast, gave the dog a bone,
nothing really changes here in this home.
But as he slept that night, a voice so calm,
said: "Listen to me son, my little Tom.
Your prayer to me was like a pleasant Psalm,
your words to me felt like a soothing balm."
The very next day as he awoke from sleep,
his mom and dad were there, it made him weep.
The promises they
Through an Angel's Eye
Some see the world through rose-colored glasses,
some see it only as bad.
Some see man split into one of three classes,
some see it only as sad.
They say that the eye to the soul is a window,
some feel such notions are lame.
Still others may prefer to focus on shadow,
some seek out fortune and fame.
To see the world softly through colors sublime,
requires a heart that is pure.
Yes, to see the world as an angelic rhyme,
the eye must be steady and sure.
Through the eyes of angels she captures our world,
the wonder of God in her lens.
By virtue of her work beauty is unfurled,
earning her many a friend.
Bagpipes are for lasses (A Scottish tale)The dawn is just a breakin',
across this old hilly land.
Me heart is sorely achin',
o'er the lass who'd held me hand.
As I glanced 'cross the gloamin',
the sunrise' castin' shadows.
I'd hoped to see her roamin',
toward that familiar meadow.
'Twas there we shared our love,
one so soft and sweet and true.
'Twas there clouds swirled above,
in a sky so ever blue.
Alas, one October mornin',
when the skies had turned to grey,
and the rain began a pourin',
the lass upped and walked away.
So each morn I face the east,
and I play these bloody pipes.
This poor lad's plea will ne'er cease,
till his lass comes home for keeps!
How Do You Say Goodbye?When he's only fifteen and his life has just begun
and he's barely spent six thousand days under the sun
... how do you say goodbye?
When he'd just got his temps and had eyes on a 'vette
and could sprint half a mile without breaking a sweat
... how do you say goodbye?
When the world keeps on spinning but your heart barely beats
and you're no longer serving up his favorite treats
... how do you say goodbye?
When the sun keeps on shining and the sky's azure blue
and you realize he's not here sharing this day with you
... how do you say goodbye?
When life keeps on living but inside you're dead
and you can't keep his image from haunting your head
... how do you say goodbye?
When a mother loses her son to an untimely death
and his picture and trophies are all she has left
... how do you say goodbye?
"Please someone tell me... how do I say goodbye?"
Masquerade at Windsor Hall
Gallant sirs and debutantes arriving at the ball.
A masquerade on friday night, down at Windsor Hall.
Cocktails flowing, band is playing, winner takes it all!
By the time the party's done it's on the floor they'll crawl.
Silk-laced gowns and three-piece suits and faces that are masked.
Homely Archduke's daughter's there (surprised that she was asked!).
Woodford twins arrived at ten (weren't asked and so they crashed!).
Gals of Downton also came, in adulation basked.
Truth be told, behind the masks and costumes made of wool,
are rotten chaps and spoiled debs who suffer not a fool.
And if you think these words of mine are harsh or mean or cruel,
reflect that if they had the chance they'd drown you in the pool!
Fly Me To The Moon
Fly me to the moon and I'll sing a lullabye,
we'll make our dreams come true, we'll soar high 'bove the sky.
With moondust in our hair and starlight in our eyes,
we'll wish the world away, hear no more plaintive cries.
Sail with me to Eire and we'll sing a bonnie tune,
we'll frolick on the shore, we'll run along the dunes.
No one there will harm us or cause us e're to fear,
we'll only see the good, shed only happy tears.
Run with me to Eden and we'll play amongst the trees,
we'll taste each juicy fruit, suck nectar with the bees.
We'll run with pure abandon and sleep with pleasant dreams,
we'll navigate the landscape, bathe in crystal streams.
Ride with me to Avalon on horseback in the rain,
we'll stop at every town, we'll race with every train.
With no one here to stop us we'll leave this awful place;
let us go in haste, leave this town without a trace.
Fly me to the moon and we'll never have to die,
the universe is ours, we'll sail through endless sky.
With a rainbow as our guide
The little Afghani girl (Rainbow)
In a rugged land with barren hills,
red poppy fields and winter chills,
lived a tiny girl with wide-set eyes,
who dreamt of life beyond her skies.
Her parents died in a roadside bomb,
she'd seen their names on a white stone tomb.
Her auntie told her "They're now with God."
Yet, belief in God she'd found quite odd.
For what kind of God brings war and pain?
She wondered: "What would be His gain?
If there is a God why can't He see,
all of this hurt inside of me?"
Then one night as she lay sleeping,
a voice was heard as though 'twas weeping.
She called out loud in her soft sweet voice
(her opened eyes had now grown moist),
"Who's there, who's there? I hear your cry.
I sense your pain, please tell me why?"
The voice then spoke so soft and low,
"It is Me my child, I feel your woe.
Please understand this: I love you so!
Just trust in Me, and in my rainbow."
The voice trailed off as she closed her eyes,
sweet dreams held sway until the sunrise.
She arose then stood out in the sun,
On Bended KneeOn bended knee he knelt, and asked her for her hand.
She shed a little tear, together they would stand.
They'd build a life as one, he'd love her through the years.
She'd gladly bear his son, he'd help her with her fears.
The years went by so fast, gray hairs and weathered skin.
Yet still their love held fast, they stayed through thick and thin.
Children came and children went, now grand-babes on the way.
They couldn't wait to hold them, nor could they wait to play.
Then one cold winter night, he caught a fevered chill.
She doctored him with love, he took her little pills.
His fever never left, the days grew cold and hard.
She dreamt of days gone by, him working in the yard.
When it seemed that all was lost, and he was near the end,
she got on bended knee, knelt down beside her friend.
She looked up to the heavens, and prayed with all her might.
If only He would hear, then things would be alright.
As she looked into the night, the moon cast such a glow!
The stars were shining bright
The Essence of Love
The little girl noticed the little boy with the cute dimple glancing her way. She quickly looked away, not wanting to give him the time of day. Still, she couldn't resist the urge to look again. There he was, smiling and waving, as if he'd known her for the entire 10 years that she'd been alive on planet earth! So, throwing caution to the wind, she walked across the playground toward him, at a rather leisurely pace, of course. When she got to where he was standing he stopped smiling, looked into her beautiful brown eyes and simply said: "I love you." Her face got as red as a tomato and she ran into the school gym as fast as she could and hid behind the basketball stands. There was a little tear in her eye, as she struggled with the emotions that were flooding her young heart.
The next day she saw him again. This time though, when her eyes met his, he turned away, with a sullen look on his face. She wondered to herself if it was possible that he loved her for only a day, and th
LegacyI despise that by design I am destined to die
I’m desperate to find any way I can to defy
It’s simple to see life offers no sequel
And no opportunity is created equal
Life is flawed, full of indelible kinks and crinkles
No matter how hard you press iron steam to wrinkle
Let it be; instead of reveling in damning hate
I plan to paint my fate by hand
And carve my own identity as destiny dictates
I’ll invent my own recipe
And give the world the best of me
Let the rest of me sink in obscure seas of time
Lend my heart to art, breathe in life with each line
Exhale excellence and seize what’s rightfully mine
One-half man submerged in human history
One-half idea to live in fame or infamy
For centuries existing beyond my mortal misery
With these words of wizardry and different sensibilities
Some intellect, introspective thoughts and humane empathy
Maturity, courage, a strong sense of humility
Talent, support, a showcase of my abilities
And honestly, a lot of luck in the f
Dream(e)scapeI close my eyes and disappear
beyond the winding paths of my subconsciousness
There are so many shiny objects there
waiting to be picked up and remembered
Dreams hiding away from the light of day
dreamt again in the darkness of night
Unfolding as I delve into them
I open doors I had forgotten I had closed
peering inside the dusty chambers of my secrets
Long forgotten memories resurfacing in new shapes
I jump into a magic suitcase
following the subway through morphing landscapes
Colourful people wearing colourful masks
are getting ready for their performance on the stage
I walk amongst them like a silent ghost
Just a spectator watching the show
A puppet master dictating the moves
I am the playwright writing the script for my dreams
I fold my hands and watch as it unfolds
until I wake up from my dream(e)scape.
Welcome to the golden road,
With amber and copper cold.
Carpet of warmth,
In the icy kiss of the wind.
Let the bronze towers rest,
Watch the topaz packages
For life's sigh.
The citadel above,
Ghost of summer,
Leaving an aura
Without the weight of sweat.
The dome turns grey,
And down comes the diamonds.
The sun sleeps,
As we watch alchemy turn gold
Cradles turn to pools,
Coffee prints melt to the road
And we are left with beauty.
Angel of ice, Angel of fire,
On the branch
The best in meSoft lines freshly written slandered all over the paper
Fresh words in the atrocious handwriting of its creator
Drops of ink besmirch this once so lovely wooden table
As sunlight falls on it on a warm day in April
Tapping of one’s fingers to the rhythm of these very lines
Pondering if this truly is what it defines
As the pen scratches over that sheet of paper
Until the rhyme is finally to the liking of its shaper
And when asked why he wrote that simple little piece
If he thought about writing it or if it was just a simple caprice
He smiles as he gives an answer to which everybody will agree
’’I do it simply because it brings out the best in me.’’
Her Song.She holds on to your memory.
Keeps your picture near at all times.
Dark curls and green eyes.
Perfect white teeth.
A sharp chin.
When she sits down at the keyboard to play;
She'll hear the words in her ears:
The sound of love.
'I love it when you smile..'
Her fingertips grace the keys, black and white.
Turning pink and red.
'You ARE beautiful'.
The sound of countless sunsets fills the dusty room.
Your arm flits around her shoulders, it is but a memory.
Just a memory.
You are a ghost that listens to her talk to herself.
You are the air against her lips.
You're nothing but a memory.
The sound of picnics in the park graces your ears.
She never would have done this without him.
A helping voice in her ears;
'B flat. No, no baby, B flat.'
The sound of heartbreak fills the room.
She has to stop the song.
You won't come back.
She went, all dressed in black.
A single rose.
And a tissue under her nose
News BluesThis is an exercise in reading between the lines.
Separate fiction from fact;
stand right here and form a pact
to never disregard tact.
When the headlines feed
I sit down and read
Let's pull the roots of rumors;
operate on these tumors
then revel in good humors.
When arguments brew
I welcome the true
Please try not to act the fool;
you may become one more tool
in the elite's game of pool.
When the network news
I take up the blues
Don't lose track of the wording;
is all that I'm forwarding.
She's Mine NowI'm taking her
I'm claiming her
nothing you do will stop me
from loving her
you mistreated her you never loved her
Always late, always forgetting important days, and full of excuses
but no more
She's mine now
stop trying to find her
just back down
I will fight you for her
because you are nothing
and she's everything
she's truly happy now
so leaver her alone
Golden SoulGolden Soul
A man by the name of Robert Frost said that “Nothing gold can stay,”
Because it is “nature’s hardest hue to hold,”
But with that, I have a rebuttal that may keep the fading, away
And while every single thing on this Earth will eventually become old,
It doesn’t mean they will become grey,
And just because the exterior may lose its color, it doesn’t mean the soul won’t stay gold
Because if you live a good life and bring happiness to others, how will those memories ever fade?
While the exterior is the hardest to maintain, memories stored within will never grow old
Because while we look at the exterior and think of many different ways to keep it shipshape,
The exterior is the thing that will always fade, but one can be immortal if he has a golden soul
MuseIt is in times of my unbridled rage that she speaks to me.
That voice that soothes the fire that ignites within me.
She brings my tears to extinguish them and calm me.
And holds my hand tight as I cry those tears for hours.
I’ve given her countless names.
Tried with all my might to see her.
But my eyes are clouded
With that smog of hatred.
Yet she never seems fazed by my rush of emotion
Instead intertwining her fingers in mine, smiling
Guiding them to my keyboard, covered in worn out letters
She tells me what I need to hear.
For it is during these times
When my lack of control overwhelms me
And I fall to pieces
That she chooses to speak to me
It is during these rushes that I receive such a blessing from her
Her words guide me
Though my state is less than stable
Her patience is limitless
She knows what to say to bring my attention to her
She knows how to keep my focus for hours on end
And yet when I purposefully search for her
She is nowhere to be found
What He NoticedHe noticed that her hair was as blonde as the sun,
perfectly brushed, hanging loosely about her shoulders.
He noticed that her lips were as red as crimson,
curled slightly up, in an everlasting smile.
He noticed that her wedding ring glistened in the light,
a band of gold, a reminder of good times past.
He noticed that her eyes were closed as if asleep,
those beautiful blues, the windows to her soul.
But what he noticed most of all was a heart no longer beating,
a chest no longer rising and falling with breath.
"This deafening silence; O to hear her laugh once again!"
As she lay there now in her eternal bedchamber,
her lifeless body as still as the hands of a broken timepiece,
he couldn't help notice, no, he couldn't help but notice...
That his life would never be the same.
The TrundlerThe waste land behind the fire station is always silent. No birds sing there, and even the wild rabbits and feral cats avoid it. Weedy wildflowers nod their seasonal heads in the breeze. Lying fallow in the midst of housing developments, shopping malls, the new movie theater — the vacant lot stands out like a knife wound on a woman’s placid face, shocking, brazen, ugly.
It is always empty. Except for one thing: a ragged heap of old trash, all nasty black tar paper and vicious snarls of rusted wire, car parts and broken glass and other junkyard jetsam. The embodiment of injury waiting to happen, an invitation to a tetanus shot... the city never hauled it away. No one ever wants anywhere near it; it radiates an eerie sense of calculating watchfulness.
And at night, it wanders.
When darkness falls, and the last cars heading into the hives of tract housing stop illuminating the asphalt with moving-picture shadows, it… unfolds. Bitter, broken tangles, grotesquely mov
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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