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Lost PlaceThe beam of the flashlight touched the fissured wall, perhaps for the first or for the sixtieth time, he did not know. Everything looked the same here. He could not help but smile. There are not many people in this century who can claim to have lost themselves in an Egyptian pyramid. This only happens to characters in horror movies or clumsy archaeologists. Unfortunately, he was not a character in a horror movie. Hoping for helpful sounds, he ended the mental conversation with himself. There was nothing to hear. Only his own breath as the flashlight went out.
Dust on this EarthFor the whiff of the moment,With closed eyes, timeless:Everything we ever dreamed,Everything we ever missed,Slowly passes by and becomes free.The moment, it is over ...Everything we are,Is only dust on this earth,Like fine grains in the wind.They are the same old songs,People keep playing and singing,Like a lonely drop on its path of life,Which disappears in a huge ocean.Everything we ever do, fades and goes by,Like a withered leaf that is blown away from the wind.Everything we are,Is only dust on this earth,Like fine grains in the wind.Nothing is forever,Just heaven and earth survive the time.Time does not stand still, it is like sandAs well as all the money in our hands.Nothing will we ever keep:The only way our soul can unfold.Everything we are,Is only dust on this earth,Like fine grains in the wind.
Magic of LoveFascinating -Miraculous magicis so gorgeous,carried in your heart -Love
The HoarderHilarious laughter escapes from her and forces itself outside.Only a new piece of matter makes her happy and she needs to have everything.All the rooms are crowded and stuffed and things are hoarded in large piles.Restless gathering and collecting of possession becomes a burden when it comes to managing it.Dreary and dull time goes by and dear are the things to her; so attached is she to them that she cannot let go.Indispensible are they: Suffocating abundance and useless provision.Never will she be able to take the things with her into the coffin to another world.Gold and material slip away, when she will already rest for eternity.
Servin' Scares ChallengeAfter bying four black roses in a flower shop from a strange man, a woman has lost everything that is important to her within three nights: Her daughter, her son and her husband.She notices that the last black rose is for her; panic-stricken she visits the flower shop and sees the strange florist - his clothes hang down in tatters on him, his skin is pale, and a smell of putrefaction comes from him - standing with only one arm behind the counter.Full of fear the woman leaves the flower shop and as she turns around again, the crumbled house with the overgrown garden has appeared once again as if it has never left.
Warrior of the Hearts (Dedicated to MagicalJoey)We will never againParticipate in your beautiful competitions.Never again share the anthologies,The beauty of words and being.Never again will we be able to fulfill your requests,When you needed anthologies from your own fund.Never again will we be able to make you happy on your birthdayWith granting your wishes.Never again ....But your great soul and love will be unforgettable.Your life has not always been easy.We find a place in heaven for you,Salvaged from God.Where your longing is satisfied and your search is fulfilled.Safe under the care of angels,Under the light of the stars and the splendor of the moon.Where already your dearest little person is waiting for you.Behind the horizon there is a place for youWhere you are no longer paralyzed by sorrow and worry,No grief anymore,Freed from earthly weight, dear Jo.The hope a
I Love YouMum -Forget, forgotten:Who are you?Cannot accept your existence.Levi
Love and HopeYou are the rock, a warm rock that gives me stability and confidence.You are the wind that takes my dreams and leads them to new lands.You are the hope, again and again I see the rainbow.You are the calm, soft song after the storm, light feeling so gentle.You are the warmth, hug me, but do not crush me.You are the confidence that gives hope for tomorrow, over and over again.You are the lovebecause only love can be the rock, the wind, the hope, the calm, the warmth and the confidence.I want to be the rock that never gives way, that protects you from the night.I want to be the wind, carry you to unknown lands, to the flowers.I want to be the hope, lighthouse for your ship on the high seas.I want to be calm, the shoulder, which is always strong when you are weak.I want to be the warmth, so that thaws your ice and the sun is reflected in the water.I want to be confident, and never give up, to walk the path, the way to you.I want to be the love.
Colors of FallAutumn rose petals -Color glow in the fall mist:Moist scent of late sun.
October EyesSuch gentle colors drip across your freckled shoulder blades.A quilt of puddled watercolors soaked in auburn shades.Spun of golden rivulets and rinsed in autumn skies,So many endless currents swimming through your lonesome eyes.Brushing under fingertips and over shattered songs,Unraveling like morning glaze against my paling palms.With beauty like October hills and hollow as the skies,The water drops against the earth will be our lullaby.
Elemental WolfI am the stellar wolf.With eyes of amber,Which hold fallen stars,And that reflect the moon's glow.I am the Inferno wolf.With my fiery heart,That burns for a mate.And the passion to run free.I am the Aquatic wolf.With my liquid movements,That help calm my pack,In times of confusion and pain.I am the Wooded wolf.With my pine needle fur,That stands on end in fury,When danger threatens my pack.I am the Aero wolf.With my bone chilling growls,And my light hearted howls,That reach even the heavens in the sky.I am the Earthen wolf.With my sand paper paws,That help me grip,And rip into the earth when I run.I am the Elemental wolf.Though I may seem strange,With all my forms,I am actually one.With one heart,One soul,One desire,I am the wolf.*howls*
RooibosIf under mulch she sang a rotten wood-like note with quiverNostalgic for her days alive Surely they could forgive herMost days it's quiet (these days it's cold) Her bones observe the soilBut Spring is pulsing warm and gold Teasing memories to boilLike heated milk the liquid smell of evening drips in branchesA honeybee who suffocates falls near her musing ashes"Is it wine or light strawberry?" She asks him of the skyThough his dead ears don't hear her query The answer is "Like dye"Just under mulch I hear a rotten wood-like note with quiverFlushing young in days alive Of course I can forgive her
Alchemy Alchemy Powerful, Mesmerizing Destroying, Rebuilding, CreatingTo receive, we must give. Who makes the scale?
The Maxberg ArchaeopteryxI waited in a tiny house without a light or door,That each progressing day was slightly smaller than before,Until I felt the sudden urge to break and struggle free.I came into the world in only natal feathers dressed,Among my likewise siblings in an interwoven nest,Atop a shrub amid a land surrounded by the sea.Each day my father came to us with smaller lives to eat,As slowly I grew larger and my feathers more complete.Along my longest finger formed a broad and glossy wing.With wings to press me forward I could climb an upright wall,And now the nest where I had dwelt was also strangely small,And I could not ignore the larger island's beckoning.My wings had grown sufficient to support my weight in air,And prey could now be chased and won without my father's care.Observing my lagoon-encircled kingdom from above,Another hunger came to me beyond the quest for food,To recreate on my behalf my natal nest and brood,And prove to a companion my deserving of her love.For every
WolvesRunning through the snow,picking up speed.Leaving trails of prints behind,as the wolves take the lead.Nothing but a blur, as they pass.White as the snow.Panting as they run,Showing no signs of slow.The wolves move swiftly around,Dodging every tree, every rock.But so silently as they do it,There is nothing here to mock.They climb a hill, to the very edge.In the distance hoots a snow owl.The wolves gather round,and great the moon with a howl."AROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."
My EnglandI care not for neon lightsor garish 'stylish' clothes t' buy,I only want the sun t' shinein fair o' pleasant England.I care not for new Ipadsor nipping out to take a drag,I only want t' grab a bagand hike in my own England.Plastic smiles and distant hugsI think for now I've had enough,I only want the land I lovethe moors and woods of England.Silver bark and golden leavesBirds sing soar in autumn breeze,I only want the grasses greenin glowing dusk of England.Now I'm old and still I sighat admirals red and foxgloves high.Yes, I feel there's no place likemy homey fields of England.
Yellow SpringIt came in tasteful gestures on a shouldered backward breeze.Ghosts of smiling children rocked the rusting set of swings.Plucking yellow daisy tops, in streams the stones did sink.While birds of cream and navy rode above a gust of pink.The sun rays pressed their fingers through the isle of cobwebbed clouds.Spitting shafts of sunlight lift the humming branches' sound.The sipping of the soil weaned as dewdrops fell in threes.In this brutte of cradled roots I lay beneath the trees.
Wolf WithinWatching from the shadows,I see the world for what it truly is.The pain, the suffering,And even the malice that fills the void.I don't understand how my human,How my other half, can stand them.With their selfish wants,And their furless bodies,It amazes me how he can walk among them,And not quiver at their strangeness.But maybe it's me who's strange…The one who might not fit.I hide in the fabric of his soul,Forever watching the world,And waiting for another who is just like us,Another who can understand…Though my time does get lonely,I often enjoy giving my human things,That remind him of what he truly is,Something that few can ever obtain.I give him my own sight.I let him run through the trees,And let him feel the wind through my fur,I even give him the thrill of chasing a deer.Though these are mere illusions,Mere memories,They are still as strong as the day I saw them,Through my two golden orbs.And one day soon,One day very soon…I hope that he and I can s
Wish for ButterfliesSpring -Blue butterfliesJoyfully circling around,Dancing in rose briers:Abundance.