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About Literature / Artist perrinaFemale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 10 Years
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Forgive me..
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,"
The little witch said as she grinned.
"For I have loved & I have prayed,
Concern for all I have displayed.
I volunteer for charity,
I tutor youth for clarity.
Picking up trash & planting trees,"
She continued on upon her knees.
"But child all this is good to hear-
What sin is it has brought you here?"
Softly she said, with her heart so true,
"I don't follow the same God as you-
I know what's good, I know what's right,
I have faith I'll make it through the night.
I simply chose a different path,
One full of love and sometimes wrath.
No way is easy as I have learned
If you enter a fire, you may get burned."
"Then go in peace," was all he said,
The priest, with a nod of his head,
For what can you say to one so true
Simply because they're different from you?
That night before he went to bed,
The priest knelt & bowed his head.
He thought upon the little witch
Whose robes were of a different stitch
Yet inside, the important part,
She had a loving, gen
:iconperrina:perrina 1 0
Twilight Over the Swamp-II by perrina Twilight Over the Swamp-II :iconperrina:perrina 6 3 Twilight Over the Swamp by perrina Twilight Over the Swamp :iconperrina:perrina 1 0
Be fruitful, he said.
Well, when words are your seeds,
then poems are your fruit,
your children.
I shall never be barren, no,
not with all of you to keep me company,
to keep me fertile.
My mind rambles on, along the path,
sowing the seeds of imagination,
of dreams.
Dreams that come and go,
dreams that show truth,
no matter how frightening.
Dreams that are no dreams,
but nightmarishly
It is the dreams of flight and fancy,
fantasy that I miss most,
they left me long ago,
with the flight of my heart.
But sometimes the seeds must
away, to plant themselves in someone else’s
by Kerrie A. Colantonio © March 25, 2003
:iconperrina:perrina 0 1
Surreal... Part II
Colors melt into dreams,
Suffusing life with
Experience never learned
But for a drink,
Breathing it in and making it
Kerrie McNay, (c) 2/20/05
:iconperrina:perrina 0 0
Surreal... Part I by perrina Surreal... Part I :iconperrina:perrina 0 0
Last of her kind...
Last of her kind,
not thick,
same on the inside,
different without.
She left them behind,
seeking others, knowing them gone,
to glimpse them in her reflection,
daily at dusk,
seeing only that
their face,
the same as all the rest,
not hers.
Heather blossoms
frame that mask,
in front of all.
She wishes she could enter those
also not her own,
fresh, but not sweet,
alive, yet not harsh,
changing the landscape,
but not
her self,
her soul.
Trapped by a
to bind,
to seal,
the seal-soul out,
the wife,
the woman,
for all to know
(c) July 2007, Kerrie McNay
:iconperrina:perrina 0 0
S.I.F.T. No. 3
Sift through the ashes, the beans, the bones.
Trying to make sense out of your life,
All the pieces look the same.
Is this the hand of the dancer, this the foot of the writer?
If I get it wrong, will nothing happen?
Or will a monster spring forth in the form of a confused girl
Who does more harm than good, not towards others, but to herself?
Would she be my mirror image, my double,
Will she show me the truth?
(c) February 2001, Kerrie Colantonio
:iconperrina:perrina 0 0
Self-Inflicted FairyTale - II
Self-Inflicted FairyTale - II
You practice escapism with unsurpassed deftness,
Each generation learns it faster, better,
To dive into worlds that don't exist- even on the screen.
Codes, numbers- numb indeed, not knowing together they create life from nothing.
Virtuality has replaced imagination-
by imagining, you at least are active, creation comes from within.
Myth rises to life through science, through cold calculation-
an icy phoenix of metal and air is reborn.
Lying there, the real world closed out
you may as well be in a glass casket,
your world of sights and sounds can just as easily be shattered,
your legs cut out from under you-
with a new world, new self to escape into, you don't have anywhere else to run.
(c) 2000, Twisting the Glass by Kerrie Colantonio
:iconperrina:perrina 2 0
Self-Inflicted Fairy Tale
Self-Inflicted Fairy Tale
Oh, little girl, your life is just a fairy tale waiting to happen.
If you just sit and wait, it will happen.
You'll fall into an unequated oblivion, Sleeping Beauty's coma,
Unaware of what's real and what's a dream.
You won't experience the thrill of the chase,
Your life has run away from you, it's not in your hands.
You've left it up to someone you don't know--
It's not up to anyone but you.
While you wait, little Cindy, you work and work,
Until you can't breathe, and need to leave, but it's too late.
You put your foot in the door too late and lost your shoes.
The pain radiates through your neural paths,
Losing the way, as you walk home.
Dejected and rejected, you shut the world out as punishment.
In then end, you only punish yourself.
You can no longer see what is real
As you keep watch from a tiny window, waiting for a dream,
Only to shut out the nightmares
Before they can show you the light within.
If you fend them off yourself, if you let them inside,
:iconperrina:perrina 0 0
Silver hands, wooden feet...
With hands of silver and feet of wood...
by Kerrie Colantonio (C) 2002
With hands of silver and feet of wood,
I am grounded to the page,
I glide over the stage,
Yet nothing,
Remains behind.
No words to remember,
No colors or emotions to be seen, felt.
My face is as blank as the canvases I hold so close,
Page fright,
Dancer’s block,
In the shadows I wait too long and miss my cue.
I write and write and cannot stop,
Yet the words that appear on the page make no sense.
Compelled, drawn, pulled, entwined with the words,
They are the master, I shall wear them until I die.
Promises must be kept,
Sacrifices made,
A bit of bone lost to keep,
A gift of love made grief.
Shall we ever dance again, you and I?
Alone, one above, one below,
So totally alone,
Yet the only pas de deux
Is the sole ballerina
And the stage.
:iconperrina:perrina 0 0
A Response...
An Offer  (in response to An Invocation)
By Kerrie A. Colantonio (c) March 25, 2003
Come to us, away oh child,
no need for light, for window pane,
no need for dreams of mountain nights,
of desert trips and childhood days.
Step o'er cracks, pipes, holes, and wires,
bend 'neath ladders, scaffolds, signs,
cross at risk of injury,
your life is ours, plus overtime.
Rules to follow, rules to break,
life's not fair, you soon will learn,
sit down, back straight, face front, my dear,
no break for you, for what you yearn.
For truth, imagination, none,
creativity does not exist
not here, not there, nowhere, no more,
and if you try, you must desist
cease all thought, listen to me,
I am your lord above all else
no room for originality,
do what I say, not for yourself.
You can't refuse, you can't turn back,
forget where you were coming from,
do not look forward, don't wander off.
You're here now, this is your home.
You came to us, for what you sought,
Seek no more, for you have found
no li
:iconperrina:perrina 2 1
Rustling what remains of their skirts, veils,
Juniper and pinion/sycamore show me how
to finish my dance.
Raising my arms, the wind molds me
as it does the trees,
Just so.
You are dancing for us, not them.
Follow us, this way.
If you travel down this path,
we’ll show you how you appear to others,
what you really are,
to us.
Come back tomorrow, once you’ve passed
through (the mirror of) Tonight,
shimmering twilight lifting the veil
for you to pass,
a little of its magic coming to rest upon
your shoulders.
You can never return home,
but you will find it,
on the other side.
(c) March 2002
:iconperrina:perrina 0 0

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More old, this time from MySpace... new updates to come...

March 3, 2009 - Tuesday  
Where to blog...
Current mood:  accomplished
MySpace, Facebook, DeviantArt, LiveJournal- too many choices.  ;)

As we prepare our house for our baby, I seem to be reaching out a bit more on Facebook, at least with status updates.  I have so much I do want to talk about, not just baby-this or baby-that, but my goals, things I still want to do, like getting my Masters degree, then maybe teaching at the college level (probably community college to start); writing articles, poems, stories, novels, anything; running for president- okay, so some things are easier than others.  Right now I just want to get this house cleaned and feel like I have space- I've already selected about 4 bags/boxes of books to get rid of, about as many magazines- it's a real accomplishment for me.  (If you know me, you know how difficult it is for me to part with literature, of any sort.)

Well, off to work soon.  I'll have to think more about which site gets which parts of me.
  • Listening to: My waking son
  • Reading: My own writing
  • Watching: Alice
  • Eating: I'm supposed to eat?
  • Drinking: I'm supposed to drink?


Artist | Literature
United States
Favourite genre of music: New Age
Favourite style of art: Pre-Raphaelite, Surrealism
Personal Quote: "In eAch QUESTion there is A QUEST which we all must embark on."


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