I caught a fairy in a jam jar!
The prettiest fairy in the forest by far
Im going to keep her in my room
And Ill never feel things like sadness or gloom
Today I came home from school
I swear I never meant to be cruel
But, to the bottom of the jar my fair fairy slid
Because I forgot to poke holes in the lid
Her soul burned with flames unquenched
Writhing in delicate tongues
Always she was warm, always a comfort
But how can you touch a burning flame?
His soul was a lake long since frozen
Sucking the life from every living thing
Glimmering with crystalline beauty
And yet, so easy to shatter
Many men chose to sit by the fire
Watching the flames grow ever higher
But the longer a fire burns, the more it consumes
The hotter it becomes
One man chose to sit in the snow
The raw beauty of the ice leeching the warmth from his body
But while his friends felt the sting of the fire
He saw the vengeful ice melt into a peaceful lake
The Greatest Author by 6Hex6Moondancer6, literature
Literature
The Greatest Author
Everyone lives inside a book
On a shelf in another dimension
Everyone is a character in a story
Everyone is part of an ongoing drama
Perhaps you live inside a novel
A bestseller in some other world
Perhaps you live in a short story or poem
Or maybe just a fan fiction
Spirit is not some higher being
Spirit is not god or devil
Spirit is someone hunched over thousands of notebooks
Feverishly writing down your story
Spring bride smiles, wreathed in lace
Winking May sunlight brightens her face
Spring groom takes her hand with pride
Nothing but gentleness he has for his bride
Summer bride dances down the aisle with glee
Laughing and shouting for all to see
Summer groom sweeps her up off her feet
Though he can be gruff, he can also be sweet
Autumn bride blushes and tries not to hide
As she tries to walk down the aisle with pride
Autumn groom trembles as he puts on the ring
Though inside he feels he could sing
Winter bride keeps the guests in awe and thrill
She knows the warmth she feels will never be chilled
Winter groom may seem elegant and s
Long green hair floats about him like seaweed
The scales of his long blue tail sparkle in the moonlight
Shy, he will slip beneath the waves
If he sees you looking
Beneath the stars, he will venture near the shore
Perched up on a rock, glistening with water-droplets
He sings when he thinks no one can hear
He sings to no one but the moon and the stars
Nothing but a small plot of land
Filled with grass and flowers
All around the trees frown
Even the stars will not glitter here
Stillness holds the little plot
Silence is its only music
No birds sing here
For this ground is not one with the world
This ground is filled with the dead
The flowers weave amongst the headstones
This is my little garden
My midnight garden of souls
I am softer than the finest sand
I am blacker than the richest soil
When the flames have died, I am still alive
I am Ash
I rise from the wood in gritty clouds
True, I am not as fine as the mist or the fog
I will sear the lungs of the foolish
I am Smoke
Even when there is no flame, I remain warm
Soft on the hands and feet
I cling to you, I will never let go
I am Ash
We are the daughters of fire
Each born of a different mother
One a fusion of fire with air
The other the daughter of the earth
We are the daughters of flame
Bound to the flickering tongues of heat
Wherever he is, we are not far behind, for
We are Smoke and Ash
The entrance to fairyland begins downhill
Be careful of the broken glass
Always there, no matter the time of the year
Level ground does not come
Until you are surrounded by trees
Until the path splits left and right
Beware the faeries, their craft and skill
Beware their forest, it gives me the chills
Beware the urge, child, to wander their land
For no one comes back from Fairyland
The faeries have a saying
That the witches follow too
When in doubt, always go left
So left is the path to fairys, for sure
To the right is the land of monsters
Haunted by trolls and werewolves
Beware the faeries, their craft and still
Beware their
A woman stands, bathed in gunmetal grey
Her dress is austere, both simple and elegant
Her hair as black as the ocean during the new moon
Half her face touched by shadow.
Before her is a chair, but she does not sit
Rather, she stands behind it, her fingers brushing the ornate back.
A face from the past, a woman shrouded in mystery
Did she know that she would come to be called great-grandmother?
What is the difference between time and death?
Only three generations seems like a different world
How can a smooth face be called grandmother?
How can one I see ever truly be gone?
There is no death at the end of lif
Alice is sitting by herself today
Her long striped socks have fallen to her knees
A spot on the floor has captured her gaze
Her icy blue eyes like drops from the sea
Her near-white hair and her marble-white skin
Make her seem unreal, a pearly-pale ghost
Her little black dress is filmy and thin
But are these the things that I like the most?
And do I dare to approach her and speak?
Strange to quail at such a delicate face
Around her I feel disturbingly weak
And warmer when we are in the same place
Yet, I dont feel sorry when shes alone
Because I want Alice all for my own
My friend, my best friend
Stood by my until the end
Red with blood, or red with love
Raining blood from men above
Dirt and steel I cannot feel
Only my dying friend is real
No Sun or Moon or Earth or Man,
No warmth or smiles if you can,
Darkness and despair instead
My friend, my dearest friend is dead
A is for Adam, shot by a friend,
B is for Ben whose heart could not mend,
C is for Carl all alone in the dark,
D is for Dave who was found in the park,
E is for Evan, his hands doused in blood,
F is for Frank, who knew not how to love,
G is for Garth, who was chained to the wall,
H is for Harry, no one heard his call,
I is for Ivan, trapped inside his head,
J is for Jack, who was buried instead,
K is for Kyle, whose eyes the sun burned,
L is for Lucien, for vengeance he yearned,
M is for Matt, for murder he was stoned,
N is for Nathan, who shivered and moaned,
O is for Oliver, his friends there were none,
P is for Patrick, his
How aloft is the King of Spades?
He sits alone in his thoughts,
The weakest piece on the board,
The King of Air, the King in the Clouds.
How alone is the Queen of Spades?
She lives inside the clock of his ambition,
Forward as her husband is aloft,
The Queen of Air, the Queen of Time.
How bitter is the King of Hearts?
Broken, every night he cries,
His little heart of glass has cracked,
The King of Water, so fragile, so tired.
How somber is the Queen of Hearts?
How she tries to save the world,
Does anyone see her delicate face?
The Queen of Water, the dame of the hopeless.
How stubborn is the King of Diamonds?
He has buried
Comedy-Tragedy Pt. 2 by 6Hex6Moondancer6, literature
Literature
Comedy-Tragedy Pt. 2
How curious is the King of Spades?
The first to lift the shroud of mystery,
Never does he leap without his wings,
The King of Wind, the King of the Clouds.
How patient is the Queen of Spades?
She does not need a map,
For she already knows where she is going,
The Queen of Wind, the Queen of Time.
How loving is the King of Hearts?
He who belongs with the candlelight,
Always beating is his heart,
The King of Waves, so gentle, so silent.
How understanding is the Queen of Hearts?
In her heart is a fountain of grace,
Only she is truly beautiful,
The Queen of Waves, the Queen of Ice.
How determined is the King of Diamonds?
What ter
Where is the place
Where poems are made?
Where fair love and foul hate
Do dance off the page.
Where is the place
Where stories are made?
Where dragons and demons
Challenge the brave.
Where is the place
Where songs are made?
Where music and melodies
Take one far away
Where is the place
Where the soul is laid,
To rest with its music
And poems and plays?
For if I knew
Where to find such a place
Id go there.
Hair of shining red
Eyes pumpkin orange,
Ruler of the golden leaves,
Life giver of the harvest seeds.
(Goddess of the Leaves, Autumn Queen,
Please let me be your Winter King.)
I may seem cold, I may seem harsh,
I may be content with blacks and whites,
My skies are grey and gloomy
Because I much prefer the night.
(Goddess of the Leaves, Autumn Queen
Please let me be your Winter King.)
I know that we can never be,
A golden queen of color and a frozen king of death,
But I ask you only for this,
Just for one delicate autumn kiss
The other leaves are fresh and green
Tiny stars of dew grace their open leaves
Full and smooth they reach for the sun
But what happens to them when the day is done?
One frail leaf is the color of blood
It trembles and quakes in the smallest breeze
Curling in upon itself, it shines like a deadly beacon
A glaring reminder to the world that all our times will come
Friends? What do you mean, of course I have friends!
Come in if you please and Ill show you, youll see
That your question was silly, my friends have no ends!
Well start in the library, where stand cases of books leather-bound
Do you think that I dont know every character, weep for every death,
Havent seen every sight, havent heard every sound?
And now we come upon a study of sorts
Where I keep all my instruments on their stands
I can tell you their names, and play them of course
At last we go to my room, up the stairs!
There on the wall, my collection of dolls
I can tell them all of my worries a
Her presence fills the sky with a fire
That dances around her golden isle
Of lavender shores and blushing sands.
Filmy purple silk swaths her body and her hands.
Long golden locks spill in trails across the sky
And the glowing orange sun is the sparkle of her eyes.
Glimpse her in the morning as Artemiss reign closes,
As she lies content in her flaming bed of roses.
Aurora of the Dawn, of the early morning hours,
Her beauty often missed by those snug in their bowers.
Feel her warmth and bask in her rays,
See her gift and sing her praise.
Listen, listen to the trees
Hear their whispers, hear their pleas.
The apple sings of wedding lace,
The apricot gives love direction,
The ash will always keep you safe,
Bamboo guards and gives protection.
Birch will never let you down,
The cherry loves you happily,
Chestnut never lets you frown,
Cypress brings longevity.
The dogwood will grant all your wishes,
Elder sacred to the Goddess, banish those that hurt her,
Elm will bring you hugs and kisses,
Fig will let you glimpse the future.
Hawthorn brings fertility,
Hazel sings of luck,
Hickory longevity,
And hide in hollys strong, safe trunk.
Junipers w
no one knows just what you did
to deserve all this shit you're in
did you wander off the beaten path
or is this all just undeserved wrath?
you let go
fighting with a statue that's made of glass
it shatters now- broken- just like your past
a fire burns bright, but you can't see the light
you're surrounded by blackest night
there's no reason now for you to love
your wings are like a crow, not like a dove
it's no accident that you're alone
you've abandoned the one place that you called home
divide again
ask yourself, what has now become of me
now that no one can bring themselves to believe
that there's a spark still burning deep
i am still here broken,
barely holding onto anything.
My memories are words,
i'll never hear you say.
My heart is still beating,
still warm when i'm frozen out.
i'll never have to wash you off my skin,
just survive endless empty nights.
i'll never have to let you pass me by,
because our hearts will never entwine.
i'll never wake in the morning,
being your biggest mistake.
i'll be the abandoned glove you walk on by,
lonely never feeling your touch.
Your beauty will never strike me dumb,
and i'll never drown in your eyes.
A storm of passion behind them,
will never torment my soul.
Warmth in my heart,
my body will never feel.
sometimes its the silence that screams the loudest
longing for water that cleanses
but knowing that the only true cleanser is the
water that flows within:
many shades of red
many hues of shame
dreams offer no insight to the inside
only emphasing the simple fact that
safety does not come in numbers
solitude is reality's real coat
frozen in wonder and
sinking in a stupified awareness
where memories reside
crashing through a world where
contradiction reigns and
logic is pure fantasy
vertigo runs thick but never quite enough
to drown the dying in their haunted eyes
Long green hair floats about him like seaweed
The scales of his long blue tail sparkle in the moonlight
Shy, he will slip beneath the waves
If he sees you looking
Beneath the stars, he will venture near the shore
Perched up on a rock, glistening with water-droplets
He sings when he thinks no one can hear
He sings to no one but the moon and the stars
so, phase one of teaching myself japanese is officially underway. lesson 1 (divided into several parts, of course, because nothing's ever easy, right?) was mostly pronounciation, but i got some vocabulary. yay! *note the sarcasm* i have the days of the week memorized, but i still need to learn the months of the year, numbers 1-10, and colors. wish me luck *grimace*
so i'm a little pissed off. Yesterday my boss comes into the office and tells me she's gotten complaints because me and my partner did nothing but sit in the office all day last sunday. i couldn't believe it. who the hell said that? i told my boss that we definitely didn't just sit around, we did a lot of work, and she said that, among other things, the 60 list (grocery store stuff, just go with it) wasn't done. that, of course, made me even angrier, because we definitely did that, i told my partner to do it while i scanned for signs (again, unless you work in a grocery store, just go with it). So we talked about it, and apparently my partner