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when the well runs dry
I'll love you in all the ways
you can't love yourself,
so that you may find reprieve
from the soil and the silt
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 18 8
NaPo 2018 Days 22-30
Day 22
her laughs rolls over him like ocean waves
and he takes it in like he'd die of thirst.
right now
right now was everything
Day 23
i was there the day you
let the shield fall and all
the pain tumbled out. 
remembering the way
you clung to me to 
steady yourself hurt.
but what really hurts
the most is how you 
looked so much like me
when i hit rock bottom too. 
Day 24
i like the whispered words
and hushed tones between 
us on lazy sunday afternoons 
where the sun warms out toes,
and the cedar strokes our backs.
Who knows? Maybe the wind
will snatch our secrets and 
lend them to the ears of the birds,
who'll translate them into hymnals
Day 25
the abandoned house sat
as it always had, covered
in cobwebs and dust like
a shawl on thin shoulders.
but it held firm to keep
kept the secrets of its 
tenants who had long
since passed. 
Day 26
bristles brushed against 
her skinned knees and 
she picked them clean
like o
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 13 12
NaPo 2018 Days 15-21
Day 15
under a muted grey sky,
the colors of my world shed
their winter coats -- now painted
more richer and deeper than before.
Day 16
the trees sway together like dancing ladies,
shedding their leaves and inhibitions together.
little ones join in the dance too, making memories
underneath the unbroken splatter of blue.
Day 17
sunlight poured into her bedroom
and smeared across the chipped
floorboards -- heating them
with its intensity;
a savior from the night
Day 18
it was as if loneliness was tangible
and love was just a myth.
she lived in ways she couldn't describe
and died in ways she could.
Day 19
i feel the void threaten to creep up
and swallow me whole -- so
I beat it back down but
it returns ever stronger.
Day 20
the light drizzle
made a soft pitter-patter
on the soil around her
bare feet.
She stood there,
kissed by the rain.
Day 21:
starlight fell and showered
her against a backdrop of
black marble.
she grabbed onto them,
wishing she too could
be this brilliant.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 10 6
NaPo 2018 Days 8-14
Day 8
oh, how her see-through smiles go unnoticed,
and she wonders if he ever thinks of her
as much as she thinks of him.
But his life belongs to another;
one life for another.
Or that's what she tells herself
when she's hanging from the rafters;
hanging by a thread.
Day 9
there's tranquility in your
hollowed bones; the way they
bend and fold tell stories
of your end.
Day 10
i'm only honest
when no one is looking;
cloak and dagger.
Day 11
young buds peep from
muddy beds searching
for escape from their
winter tombs;
they found grace
in the sun.
Day 12
you look frail
in your mortality,
as if a gentle breeze
could knock you down.
And I can't help but fear
for my own descent.
Day 13
in the end we all crumble and fall,
but it is the initial drop that we
fear so much -- but not you.
you stand so close to the edge
because you're not afraid to let go.
Day 14
shimmering rays of the morning
beams across her freckled skin,
making them come alive so
openly and freely that he could
sit back and cou
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 7 7
in bloom
tentative red-tipped buds
sway on bare branches.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 12 2
NaPo Days 5-7
Day 5
red lips stained in hate
you break me down into
bits and pieces;
my failures make a lump sum
of my entire life,
and you never hesitate
to let me know
that i could never
be good enough
Day 6
are these words your own?
they're heavy on my back,
making it hard to breathe.
why is it that your words
hurt the most?
Day 7:
she missed simpler times
of wind-swept skin and
bruised knees of childhood
because she never had to worry
about where her life was headed
(or wasn't)
sitting in her backyard
felt like a resolution now
as she'd crush dandelions
between her fingers
until they were beyond recognition--
until it felt relatable.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 10 4
dear so and so (4/30)
dear so and so,
it has come to my attention
that this life has gone belly-up
and morning birds don't sing (for me).
if they ever unearth my remains
they'll see I still remain
the same, as I did before
and that's okay -- I'm okay
I'm okay
with the way colors lose their hue
or how the lilies you grew for me
always die after a little while
because even muted things
have their place.
And it's okay that I'm diluted
and shapeless because I could be
everything or nothing at all.
Maybe nothing even really matters.
Maybe that's the point.  
but do you know where courage sleeps?
I had been trying to find it
and shake it awake so I too
could know it.
But someone once told me that this
was no place for me.
And I think there's some truth to that.
So, for now I'll stack my bones
neatly where they lay, and scatter
my ashes where you can't find them.
I hope someday you'll forgive me.
A coward.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 12 13
subtle (3/30)
I carve my stories
into your skin and
hope you'll catch
all the insecurities
I'm too afraid to express
out loud --
but you sweat them out
and keep them to remind me
how I always
fall short
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 13 7
Symmetry (Day 2/30)
aren't we all just lonely little stars
searching for meaning to
the chaos?
maybe it's in our desperation
to fill the void that we're
really one in the same.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 13 4
Should this Noose Unloosen (1/30)
Shadows hang from your lids
and I can tell how tired you are or
how the light falls away from you.
I want to find the words,
the right ones to say -- but I can't.
I try to say it hurts me
more than it hurts you,
but that can't be true -- and it isn't.
So, instead I say nothing.
Nothing at all, and that's fine by you
because words can't fix this.
Can't fix you; Can't save you.
And they don't.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 13 7
trial and error
I know that when the dust blows over
and my bones turn to ash,
the wounds will begin to heal--
And I'll recede to the back of your mind
like old china in your cupboard.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 5 4
HaikuWriMo Day 28
spring was born from the
sunrise -- warm remains
after a frosted evening.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 9 3
HaikuWriMo Day 27
her face was painted
a soft hue, but I knew
the emptiness underneath
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 9 0
HaikuWriMo Day 26
all the words I could
have said, kept hidden
in self defense
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 7 0
HaikuWrimo Day 25
you were a feeling
I once felt; petals
I once submerged.
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 6 1
HaikuWriMo Day 24
soft silence sweeps
across the valley;
it gives her pause
:iconmedoriko:Medoriko 3 0




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Hey everyone! Back one last time for a feature as promised for MagicalJoey's anthology contest! Each of the winners (and special mention) will receive their own individual feature, so please take some time to check this all out. Anyway, on with the feature!

Honorable Mention: 

DC-26 with their piece:

As promised, here is your feature:

Thank you to anyone who took the time to check out these features.

Hey everyone! M here with a feature as promised for MagicalJoey's anthology contest! Each of the winners (and special mention) will receive their own individual feature, so please take some time to check this all out. Here I will feature the third place winner of the contest. Anyway, on with the feature!

Third Place: :eager:

chaseawaythedark with their piece:

Something's Missing: an anthologyThere are fifteen poems
ever since I was young,
I knew something was missing.
something wasn't… there
in my mind and in my body.
while others giggled through health class
and joked about the other gender's body parts,
I sat through it and tuned it all out.
it didn't interest me at all.
people tell me,
"you're just young;
it's understandable that you don't feel anything.
you just gotta meet
the right person,"
but I tell them,
"nothing will make me feel
something I wasn't born feeling,"
is it some genetic thing?
is it a mistake, a glitch in the code?
is it just completely random?
something I'm born with,
something assigned as birth?
or is everyone right...?
have I really not found the right person?
am I really too young to know?
I hear it so often,
it's hard to not doubt...
I touch my stomach,
wondering why I feel no heat,
no tingling, no pleasure.
my hand drifts lower
but still, nothing.
and nothing

As promised, here is your feature:

Clean SlateYou may think that
you're nothing,
you're worthless,
you're boring,
but the beauty of
being nothing,
being worthless,
being boring,
is that you're a clean slate.
You can do whatever you like to yourself,
to be who you want to be.
You are a lump of clay,
waiting to be given shape.
You are a plot of ground,
waiting for the time to grow.
You are a clean slate,
waiting to be written on.
You have been given an opportunity
to be anything, anyone you like.
Make sure that it's someone good,
that it's someone worth being.
There's Nothing Wrong with YouNo matter who you are --
non binary,
straight --
there is nothing wrong with you.
Though you are different than the rest,
and people say that you're unnatural,
you are perfect
and wonderful
and so deserving of love and life.
They do not dictate what you are
Only you can shape yourself
into who you want to be.
and liberty
and life
and happiness
are all basic human rights
and no one
can take those away from you.
You are human
and you are beautiful
and natural
and you exist,
and you matter.
Spring CleaningIt's spring,
and in spring there's spring cleaning.
With spring cleaning,
it's out with the old and in with the new.
That means
getting rid of everything you don't want or need
and replacing it with something new,
something better.
This can apply to people too.
Get rid of the old parts of yourself.
Throw out tradition,
to hell with routine.
Step out of your comfort zone,
toss aside the safety blanket.
So take out the trash,
pick up and clean the dirty laundry.
Dust off some forgotten parts of yourself,
wash the windows and let the light in.
It's spring,
and with spring comes spring cleaning.
So when you start cleaning,
don't forget about yourself.
Learning from Your MistakesWe all make mistakes.
It's simply a part of life.
But your mistakes do not define you.
because if everyone were defined by them,
everyone would look bad.
Your mistakes only define you
once you do something about them.
It all depends on
how you deal with your mistakes.
Dealing with them poorly —
as in repeating them
and never learning —
is more likely to give off a worse signal
than if you handle them well —
as in learning from them
and not making them again.
So don't worry about mistakes.
Worry about how you'll deal with them
and start learning.

There's Someone Out ThereYou may think that you're all alone,
that there's no one out there for you.
But there's seven billion people out there;
there's bound to be someone
who will love you always,
One day, you'll find the one who
brings a smile to your face when you talk.
Who makes you laugh (even when you're alone in public).
Who would be willing to drive hundreds, thousands of miles
just to say hello.
Who is there through thick and thin,
and knows your deep, dark secrets
and still loves you inside and out.
It's impossible to be alone
among seven billion people.
Just be patient;
even if you don't want anyone,
even if you've given up looking,
there is someone out there.
FamilyYou were born into your family for a reason.
Each of your family members
were put into the group because
you all were meant to be together.
Fate brought you together
so cherish them.
Love them and never let them go.
They won't be around forever,
but they'll be around for a while
so why not make the experience worthwhile?
Letting GoIf you love someone,
you must learn to let them go.
It's unhealthy to keep them with you
when they can't stay.
They will always be with you,
in your soul, in your mind, in your heart,
because no one truly goes away.
You will have the memories
forever tucked away
within easy reach.
Don't keep them tethered to your side,
because they will then grow to resent you,
and you don't want your memory of them
tainted with hatred.
BirthplaceWhere we come from
does not determine
who we are.
it is the experiences we go through,
the actions we take,
the choices we make,
how we choose to live our life,
that determines who we are.
Where we come from
is only our birthplace,
and birthplace is only a name.
What we do to make ourselves
worthy of having a name
is what makes us who we are.

ControlYour need to control my life
is suffocating me.
Learn to let go of the reins.
Learn to let me be.
The rope is pulling tighter.
Your grip on the reins is almost painful.
There are things I can do
without you dictating how to do it.
I can't do a single thing
without you breathing down my neck.
I know you mean well,
but it's just too much.
BetrayalIt was a stab in the back,
it was a slap in the face.
You took everything I had just to make sure
I couldn't do anything about it.
I thought we had this all worked out.
I thought we were fine again.
Just so you know,
I won't let this happen a third time.
Blue Light Conversationsi.
heads bowed down,
shoulders scrunched together,
they smile at their hands.
the whole world is at their
everyone aches for that power,
but the power is
in everyone's hands.
it makes most adults nervous,
but some are hooked,
hooked by tiny,
invisible claws
that dig into your brain.
faces awash with light,
they smile at the blue light,
smile for the camera,
or at the mini keyboard.
they've learned to type,
they're sucked into the hype,
they can't look away
from the glowing blue light.
on the screens,
they can talk freely.
the silence doesn't
burden them.
they welcome it.
face to face,
they freeze up and find that
silence is not acceptable here.
proper english: expected.
eye contact: recommended.
vocal responses: required.
they're fed bad things, they
only know bad news.
"five people killed when
car rams into a crowd!"
"young girl kidnapped in May
has yet to be found!"
"once-dormant volcano is
back for another round!"
no good news is fed;
a generatio
StarbornBits of pieces of stars
still reside in you, even today.
Your body is the embodiment
of what the universe can create.
So don't try to tell me that
your life doesn't matter,
that you're worth nothing more than
scars and a number on the scale.
You are iron and copper and
cobalt and manganese
and everything strong, resilient,
everything unwilling to break.
The universe sacrifices a bit of itself
to craft your body, mind, and soul.
You are made by the stars,
and there isn't anything you can't do.

The final feature for HM will be up this week, so stay tuned!

Hey everyone! M here with a feature as promised for MagicalJoey's anthology contest! Each of the winners (and special mention) will receive their own individual feature, so please take some time to check this all out. Here I will feature the second place winner of the contest. Anyway, on with the feature!

Second Place: 

SilverInkblot with their anthology collection:

Anthology: Strange BeautyTidepools
I saw my soul in a tidepool
of the Adriatic Sea – turban
snails and purple-spiked urchins
hid their soft undersides as sea
stars inched from one pool
to the next. My fingers grazed
tubeworms and anemones,
scared a mollusk, flipped
a struggling sand dollar.
I saw the future in strewn
sea shells and crab tracks,
dug up clams to whisper
my secrets between their hinges
before tossing them back
like a message in a bottle.
I wanted to hold this tiny world
in my hands like a mirror
and plunge its shallow depths
until I knew everything
there was to know. But when
the moon pulled closer,
my tidepool was lost in the surge;
the mirror shattered, left
to the relentless urgency
of the rising tide.
She cleaned my room while
I was gone. Picked up the floor,
vacuumed the rug, made
the bed. The mess makes her
grouchy, twitchy. But my mess
and her mess are different
creatures; hers are monsters
to be conquered; mine are
companions to be loved.
A perfectly smooth riv

As promised, here is your feature!

Turn my words against me.I want my words to take
root in your stomach and grow
up your esophagus, the calyx
of your tongue brushing the edge
of your teeth until the words blossom
from your lips in a slow
explosion of elegance, jawline
trickled with nectar, charming
hummingbirds and honeybees
with the promise of butterfly kisses.
Autumn was my first love.October, I follow you -
from the magic lights of New York
to moonshines in Georgia,
until the colors dissolve.
The anxious poetry of autumn
made a memory of me.
Here’s to things I take for granted:
September blues,
chasing airplanes,
country road thunderstorms.
Unspoken words, unwritten ideas.
October, I follow you;
I thought I saw you on the shore
where the river runs through gold
on the last boat leaving the city of a hundred spires -
or perhaps Pittsburgh
(it was the lights I guess).
Here’s to the things we leave behind:
sunbeams in November,
letters addressed to no one,
poems, wounds, dead birds.
I’ve got that summertime sadness.
Maybe you’re gonna come back;
we’re changing our ways, taking different roads
and loneliness knows me by name
but October, I follow you;
without you I’m a winter heart,
a love story you don’t want,
a November shade of grey hunting ghosts
in cities that sleep inside our heads.
You told me you lied the night you kiss
Stories of feelings with no names - Revision i.
The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message, let alone formulated time to write a reply. You still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by. You rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from your late Grandma Moses.
You lost your voice one day. You woke up to a hollow echo in the base your throat and knew you’d lost something special before you’d ever had a chance to say anything worthwhile. You checked under the bed and tried the lost and found, but couldn’t even ask if anyone had heard it lately.
A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that you are going to die. You are dying right now – your cells are shedding like snakeskin and your hair is turning silver and every moment is one less than
Tangential AsymptotesI think about falling in math class.
The boy in front of me is writing diligently, noting each and every word as though he forgot it was all in the textbook. He has dark hair all tangled up in the back like a bramble of thornbushes and his green hoodie looks like it could use a good washing.
The professor is rattling on about asymptotes, about two lines that go on forever, getting closer and closer but never touching. He tells us about the Greek roots of the word; asymptotos, that it means "not falling together," and he scribbles nonsense equations on the board and hopes that we understand them better than he does because tenure is the only reason he's teaching this class.
As much as I hate math, I have to admit there's something beautiful about the concept. Something romantic and longing, something I can relate to in a sea of cold precision and dispassionate numbers.
I think about falling in math class. I think about fractals and their intricate patterns, turning equations into art. T

RiversmellAncient water crests
in sunlight, every ripple
flashing silver. The river
smells like soil, sunscreen
and change; like smooth
stones and tendrils
of new life growing
against a current gurgling
forgotten tongues. Empty
mussel shells butterfly
the shore; thunder vibrates
in the distance. And when
the rain comes, dipping
its millions of tiny toes
into the surge, the river
rises to meet its brethren,
water drinking water,
as the dirt renews itself
and the trees let loose their leaves.
Lesser ExpressionsThis ache defines my body –
crosses, uncrosses my legs, traces
fingers along curvatures unmapped
by foreign travelers.
This want defines my time –
turns sleep into daydreams, matches
my schedule to yours, walking
beside, one shy footstep at a time.
This love defines my life –
shapes my body to be softer,
my time to be flexible, my heart
to be richer. The ache and want
become sharper, but calmed, content
in being lesser expressions
of something far greater.
running waterdamp handtowel
you left
the faucet on
I sweep
dead rose petals
WeightYou are a caterpillar, slouching
from home to school,
mindless, aimless, prey
to the pressure pupating
into mental breakdowns.
But do not forget –
one day, you will be a butterfly.

Architects paint with light and concrete.I dreamt I was an architect,
a handful of doubts and
corrosive intellect.
The clock tower has the most lonely
view of the industrial sunrise,
rising like the old Indian song inside.
From where I sit, sunlight
drips like honey fresh
from the earth over concrete elegance.
Sometimes autumn feels like winter.
Once a classy hotel
and now an urban puzzle,
consumed by kudzu creeping
all along the broken windows,
choking the windchimes.
How do cities understand
what soul sings behind their windows?
There’s so many different suns
desperate to connect;
the light through a dirty
windshield; the sun in an empty
room; something ordinary in the quiet
presence of light and shadows.
Some moments are golden,
as if even the city knows
the art of being perfectly still.
PreservedI want to be crushed
by the weight of your love;
like a wildflower pressed
within an encyclopedia,
ingrained into the page defining itself,
as you define me.
SandalsThe earliest, solid memories I have are of second grade.
I remember that I was the new person that year in a class of some twenty-five students. They had all known each other in years previous. All of them were African-American; bit of a role reversal, but I was the only speck of racial diversity that year. I remember the Lincoln Log style playground equipment. I remember there was a drawer full of dinosaur bones and they were my favorite things in the room.
I remember that I was quiet from an early age, but this was the year that would push it to extremes. Whether a product of being new, being easily targeted, or general childhood malice, I do not know. But I do know that the severity of my experiences that year would be responsible for the near total shut down of years later.
The teacher was an older lady named Mrs. Rowe. I don’t recall much of her except that she looked rather grandmotherly. I think she was probably a nice lady. But didn’t know what her charges were up t
Mr. HatchThe orchestra teacher killed two people.
It was an accident – they were an older couple, crossing a sidewalk in the fog on a dark night. Still, it happened. That kind of thing must stay with you.
He took some time off. I’m not sure how long – I wasn’t in his class anymore by then. The violin just frustrated me. I’d wanted to play the cello anyway, but that’s neither here nor there. He must have been gone at least two weeks, maybe more.
I don’t know what class was like when he came back, even though all the popular kids were in orchestra. No one ever really talked about that class – it’s not like there’s ever any homework.
I only had the one class with him, back in seventh grade. He was kinda pompous, but an alright teacher. Everyone else preferred Mr. Vick, but Mr. Hatch was my first music teacher. Mr. Vick never even knew my name. Guess I should have started in third grade with everyone else.
I wanted to say something, but I

Features for 3rd place and HMs will be up this weekend, into next week. 


Happy birthday dA <3 It's crazy that I've been here for 12 of those, and I still call this place home :D 
Hey everyone! M here with a feature as promised for MagicalJoey's anthology contest! Each of the winners (and special mention) will receive their own individual feature, so please take some time to check this all out. Sorry for the delay, I could have sworn I posted this already :lmao: Apparently, it had been sitting in my stash.  Anyway, on with the feature!

First Place:

Malintra-Shadowmoon with their anthology collection:

Congregation of Trees - A Nature Anthology:iconTWC-Border1plz::iconTWC-Border2plz::iconTWC-Border3plz::iconTWC-Border4plz::iconTWC-Border5plz::iconTWC-Border6plz::iconTWC-Border7plz::iconTWC-Border8plz:
Linden Tree

The linden tree is at home in Europe. Among the Germans and the Slavs, the linden was considered a sacred tree. It stands for - in contrast to the oak - femininity, loveliness, fertility, the summer, cheerfulness, beauty and love. In the past, there used to be a large, wide-spreading lime tree in the center of the village, used as a "dancing linden" for weddings or as a court tree. Many places, surnames, restaurants are named for this tree. Its healing powers can be experienced directly in its vicinity, but also in the linden blossom honey and the tea infusion of the flowers, which helps against colds. Even after wars it was remembered and people planted so-called 'peace lindens'.
In the village the linden

As promised, here is your feature!

Effects of RadioactivityHorror Scenario
Was this power plant not a big ember,
Ignited through the reactor’s tremendous energies?
Its flaming beam cut the courage of firefighters
In ever-consuming ectomies.
In the firestorm, they saw nothing but sparks;
Again and again, heat waves flood after flood.
What here burned will never bloom again,
No phoenix will be resurrected.
It will only survive the wind and its shrill disphonies.
Even today people in the region suffer from radiation exposure.
Whole areas were contaminated.
Especially children are affected by the radioactive food:
The children of Gomel, just a few kilometers away from Chernobyl.
Help in Need
Since the year 2000, our community allows the children of Gomel
An annual recovery stay.
The mayor takes care of host families in our three small villages.
Gomel students and their teachers spend happy days with us.
Our mayor supports the commitment of the children's aid Gomel, and
Our community has been a partner of the a
Two TreesThere was a tree.
A tree without leaves, not dead, but with many needles.
Not for pricking but to protect itself against acid rain and scorching sun.
A tall tree which radiated an imperturbable calm in summer and winter.
Deeply rooted in the earth and high risen to the sky.
There was another tree.
Completely different. Even the bark indeed playfully spotted black and white.
And it wore leaves that played constantly moving with the sunrays.
As soon as the short summer was over, the leaves turned yellow and brown.
Even before the first frost, they sailed away, as there had never been a green time.
Before the memory of summer faded in the mist of yesterday, the first buds sprouted again.
Tender green leaves made their way out of them.
One day the sky darkened and there was a heavy storm.
With a load roar, it swept through the forest, uprooted shrubs and trees.
After days of fury it disappeared as sudden as if it had been only a mirage.
Completely ruined it left the forest.
Barely a tree t
Colorful Sometimes you shine like the red

Of a setting sun in the evening sky.

Another time I have to look precisely

To perceive you at all,

Like a watery sky-blue,

In an exchange of sun and clouds.

Sometimes your outer appearance

Is even changeable, like a chameleon,

Trying to deceive its environment.

Then again, you seem

To radiate something of all colors,

Like a puzzle

Wanting to be assembled

To make sense.

Often, however, you provide all colors at the same time

Aotearoa: The Maui Cycle, Myth and Legends ContestThe demigod Maui is undoubted the most famous character in the mythology of the Maoris and as hero and “trickster” he reflects and shapes value conception of the culture of his people. In a society that grants the highest rank in the family to the first-born as well as the succession to the father, he assumes as the youngest of the family (potiki) a certain exceptional position – similar to the “nestling” in our society. He is spoilt and meets with more indulgence than his elder siblings.
It is interesting to state that the majority of the male heros in the Maori mythology are eldest sons or chiefs. But also a lot of Potikis cause a stir. They are outsiders like Maui. At the beginning they are discriminated but later on they leave the “natural” heros far behind because of their cunning and their very great particular daring.
They are the ones who violate all rules. Maui proves that orders are not irrefutable and that cunning and a good portion

Evening SkyYour last breath,
So cold,
So powerless,
You lie in my arms!
The colour of your life,
So red,
Runs through my hands,
Which gave you so much love,
Touched you to give,
To feel!
My lips tremble,
But they remain silent,
Boundless failure,
The world sinks in pain!
In me slowly burns
Your paradise to dust!
The ashes of your life,
The clear crystal of my soul,
So gently covered,
As the evening sky,
Hugs my loneliness!
Birds of night,
Glide on silent wings,
Through the land of my dreams,
In which they take my heart
And carry it
Over the abyss of my life!
There they tear it apart,
In thousands of pieces so small,
Raining down on my life
In my darkness!
I see through my silent tears,
Which blur the beautiful moon
In the evening sky,
I see how I cry red tears!
They dip the moon
In a silent red!
Just for you …
I cry the colour of my grief.
Just for you …
I cry the colour of my love.
Just for you …
I cry the colour of your life.
Just for you …
I cry the colour of my pain.
Glamour WorkCollecting tears
like diamonds -
beautiful work.
Soul MatesBetween dream and moon tides,
The light weaves a new day.
A first glimmer lights the darkness,
Where even still a shadow lay.
For ages swings a song
From star guardians into the world
And first diamonds glitter,
Where luminosity falls on the water.
The young morning is still hesitating,
Promising us hardly the return.
Still the night wraps up the life
And silently breathes the great sea.
Then … finally, the golden time calls.
Water marries to the light.
And shining our heart sways
Where sunshine breaks through waves.
The wind carries my soul
On its wings away from here
To green valleys, ocean lights,
To blue lakes, to you.
You are the life, you are the dream.
You are my soul and my light.
And when the day draws to a close again,
I will not forget you.
Soul MatesBetween dream and moon tides,
The light weaves a new day.
A first glimmer lights the darkness,
Where even still a shadow lay.
For ages swings a song
From star guardians into the world
And first diamonds glitter,
Where luminosity falls on the water.
The young morning is still hesitating,
Promising us hardly the return.
Still the night wraps up the life
And silently breathes the great sea.
Then … finally, the golden time calls.
Water marries to the light.
And shining our heart sways
Where sunshine breaks through waves.
The wind carries my soul
On its wings away from here
To green valleys, ocean lights,
To blue lakes, to you.
You are the life, you are the dream.
You are my soul and my light.
And when the day draws to a close again,
I will not forget you.

Such a Love exists only onceSuch a love exists only once,
That dizzily intoxicates me and makes me happy,
That narcotizes me like a drug,
Which moves me to far realms.
My darling, in your heart dwells the sun,
Lets everything rise lovingly.
Kindness shines in your eyes
Like stars that will never sink.
Such a love exists only once,
So impetuous and enormously ardent.
It makes trembling my heart
And will never let me go again.
My sun, never leave me, please.
I cannot be without you
And I wither like the flowers’ splendor
When your light will not surround me.
Such a love exists only once,
And even if time passes quickly,
I will dream of it all my life,
Like one summer long of May.
Little stars, please show me the way,
Lead me carefully on my path,
So that I even find the way at night,
When once I will get lost.
Such a love exists only once,
Still fulfills me in my death.
In front of me I still see always the sun
When I behold the far sunset glow.
The Old Oaken TreeI have sat in your shade and have been dreaming.
Often I have forgotten the time.
Into your bark I have sobbed.
Underneath your roof of leaves I have sought shelter.
My grief, my joy I have told you.
A feeling of safety I have found here.
You are still there - changed - like me ...
After so many years.
You have stood your ground.
I have found a home, a place to strike root.
We share our life at the little creek.
Hardly I can grasp it or word my joy.
The power, peace and silence that surround you
I have already loved as a child.
And when I climbed up your branches and hurt you -
Please forgive me, the ignorant child.
That what I loved to have, you have given to me -
Power, dignity, hope - zest for life.
Star Child in WinterCarefully, I step on the white dusted grass.
The frozen evening dew moistens me.
It is cold I do not feel it.
Only the silence of the night is all around me.
My hair becomes entangled in an icy wind.
So that I fear to be blown away.
I reach out for the branch of a tree
To seek help and protection.
In front of me I can see the forest in awesome loftiness.
The trees welcome me.
Finally I arrive at the spot I am heading to
The clearing a spiritual place.
I stop in the middle of this circle
Symbol of eternity, image of perfection.
I wait and only my breath can be heard.
Time seems to stand still.
Then, at last the clouds flee
And unveil the radiating face of the moon.
Its illumination seems to cover everything
With liquid silver.
Shimmering gold is mingling among the
Silvery glittering night-blue sky.
Unnumbered stars are strewn into the night.
High up I lift my face.
My eyes catch the light of the moon and the stars.
I know that the time has come.
Determined I lower my head,
The Choice between Life and DeathThere was a time in this life that was my happiest but also the most sorrowful. In this short period I was allowed to live the highest feelings of gladness but also learned a lot of things. I have learned that a connection should never be one-way or the other one did not know what to begin with. And the moral was – but I hope it was not my final lesson – an elemental soul and a human soul can never be soul mates.
I never have had what is called numerous friendships, was always confronted with the words "You are strange". Thus made me very distrusting towards people around me and I preferred getting lost in astral travel rather than to live this world.
It was some time ago and I remembered that it happened with conversations in the internet when I met a young woman two years younger than me who was running away from her husband. A strange feeling of yearning came up in me and a strong sense of protection. Should I experience a true and real friendship now?
We came closer and s




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Lady-Yume Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2018   Writer

Just wanted to take a moment and thank you for visiting my profile and enjoying my work (:
I'm truly happy to know what you found spoke to you.

Have a lovely rest of your week,
Warm greets, Kiyo
Ladnavar Featured By Owner May 5, 2018  Professional General Artist
Thanks for the collection~! :heart:
Medoriko Featured By Owner May 5, 2018  Student Writer
dialtonepoetry Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2018   Writer
Thank you for the watch! :heart:
Medoriko Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2018  Student Writer
My pleasure! Nice to meet you. :heart:
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Thanks for joining our group! :D
May we be graced by your presence for a long time :meow:

Sakurai Amy
Founder of The Writer Gang
Medoriko Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2018  Student Writer
:salute: Happy to be here! Thanks for accepting :D Can't wait to start perusing the gallery and adding some of my own stuff! :la:
TheEvilOvelords Featured By Owner Apr 3, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Glad to hear it :D
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Thank you for joining our group, DA-Writing-Community. :hug:
Medoriko Featured By Owner Feb 22, 2018  Student Writer
:D thanks for having me!
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