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ConfessionIt's my indiscretion…
Blooming clinical depression
On an empty concession.
Don't mind my digression…
As I study my transgression,
Led to a misimpression.
Despite my aggression…
You have made quite an impression
To engage a closed session.
I have a confession…
I'm consumed by your obsession;
I yearn for your possession.
The Beginnings of a DragglehoofMy name is Pathia Wildmane. I was born into a very small tribe of Wildmane that made their home within the wilds of Feralas after emigrating from Desolace. My father is Urell Wildmane, a revered hunter, and my mother is Adne Wildmane, a leatherworker. I have a twin brother, Kitahl, who managed to squeak out ahead of me by a few minutes. He's never let me forget I'm the "younger" sister. Most of my tribe is comprised of hunters, and I tried very hard to learn those skills. I spent more time daydreaming than working on my archery though. When I was about 20 summers old, my parents bore another set of twins, almost unheard of among my people, another brother and a sister. There was a lot of talk about that at the time, but I rarely listened to it. I rarely listened to anything. Since the twins were even more trouble than myself, my parents turned their attention to my younger siblings. This left me with more freedom to explore the forest and spend even more time daydreaming.
So it was tha
Lost KitesLove was paper kisses;
Beneath lyrical oaks
We cut the strings
On cellophane kites.
A Rescue of Sorts - Part ThreeThe next morning they rose bright and early before the sun had even dared to begin showing its face. The sky was just fading to grey and pink and some stars still lingered overhead as "Ace" packed up the camp. Not long after that, Runeclaw was being strapped into the harness that would keep her from flying off the back of a water strider. She wasn't entirely happy with this mode of transportation, but it was either this or swimming and who knew what was floating around down there. She still had nightmares sometimes about the whale sharks in Vashj'ir.
Luckily, the trip across the sea was wholly uneventful and even somewhat boring as endless expanses of water stretched to the horizon in all directions. Eventually, the hazy apparition of a small island shrouded in mist appeared before them. As the shore came into view so too did the hulking figures of direhorns along the beach. The pair made landing carefully. "Ace" checked his gear while Runeclaw worriedly paced along the shore. It wasn'
A Rescue of Sorts - Part TwoRuneclaw sat next to the campfire as her tail swished in anticipation behind her. Staccato popping came from a covered iron pot hanging over the embers as the hunter gave the pot a little jostle now and then.
"Almost ready," he grinned as the popping noise slowed and then came to a stop. He pulled the lid off the pot with a flourish to reveal the fluffy white kernels overflowing within. "Tada! Now just hold on a minute!" he playfully admonished while shoving her muzzle out of the way. "I need to put the butter and salt on first, you know that."
Runeclaw chuffed and sat down on her haunches with affected patience while he doctored their snack into euphoric states of deliciousness. Her nose twitched as the enticing smell reached it, and the tuft of her tail stirred the grass restlessly. Finally, he pitched a piece of popcorn at her and she nabbed it out of the air with a crunch. The hunter's rumbling chuckle caused her mouth to drop open and tongue to loll out in what passed for a grin o
Souls beyond LimitHollowed out tree
Hollowed out soul
Souls being reaped
Souls being trapped
Trapped in my head
Trapped in my hell
Hell is war
Hell is on earth
Earth is crying
Earth is dying
Dying for a sin
Dying for a coward
Coward not a man
Coward not a wolf
Wolf on the prowl
Wolf in sheep's clothing
Clothing reveals little
Clothing reveals much
Much wasted time
Much wasted breath
Caught yet again
Again I yell
Again I write
Write for love
Write for pain
Pain is cliché
Pain is alive
Alive but not caring
Alive but not living
Living in fear
Living in the moment
Moment is stolen
Moment is gone
Gone like thunder
Gone like rain
Rain to sully muddy
Rain to wash away
Away we go
Away up high
High in clouds
High in the sky
Sky with no horizon
Sky is no limit
A Murky PoseI sit in the dark
I don't stop to think
Of things they could have done
I sit in the dark
And drink warm whiskey
My throat, raw as my heart
I sit in the dark
No raging storm now
Only stillness, silence
I sit in the dark
Unbroken, my time
A raven's last hour marked
I sit in the dark
Eyes closed, dismissal
Believing, not seeing
I sit in the dark
No waiting this time
I've already come, gone
I sit in the dark
Of Willows and Trolls - Poetry Anthology
Table of Contents
Throughout the Day
Of Willows and Trolls
Just a Fool
Little Black Gummi Bears
Bound to You
What You Don't Know
Our Song Was Pain
Silence is Deafening
Too Dizzy to Ride
This is my first published collection of poetry and I hope that you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The pieces in this collection vary from philosophical to humorous to insidious. There is a little bit of everything for every little bit of us all in here. The photographs you see accompanying each section were also taken by myself. Some of these poems were originally written over a decade ago and have undergone rewrites, while others have been
The Dance.You and I dance as life and death,
unbroken and ever going,
circling and never ending.
As the music dies,
and the song stops,
where our dance is paused.
My sight goes gray,
the light in my eyes dims,
and I fall down forever back.
Your face is the last thing,
I saw and remembered so I take great comfort,
that you're forever there before me as I fall down.
So the music revives,
and the song restarts,
where our dance is unpaused.
The music is all around us and surround us,
like the lives we make and take,
and the dance is going faster to bring life and disaster.
The Memory of a Dead Man Walking
Suchlike the will of brimstone beasts,
Is the will of a dead man walking,
In each step is left the prints of carelessness.
Holding the half empty glass with a crack in the side,
stumbling around the dunes in the long wait to become
a savage before the credits roll.
A happy ending was for another tale for another man way
off back in the mirage of the desert that harbors those
dunes as he lies six feet under with a smile by rigor
mortis and a silent song in the beatless heart, there
beneath a tombstone that read,
here lies a memory.
Come Hell or high Heaven, the dead man walking
walks on without a goal or care for the world,
a bottle of dried up whiskey hanging loosely
in hand, gathering sand from the winds of that
coming storm. Illusive would have been his
laughter to sober eyes in that wasteland.
The Memory looks on as a shade beyond the grave,
staring straight at a man of woe, watching those
apathetic trails disappear. The glass fell into
the bosom of those lands beyond greener pastur
Heart SongI am conscious of
Getting everything in my body going.
I can control everything in it as I need it
And perceive in it every single touch.
I love my heart as it is.
I am certain of loving it.
In my spiritual hand I take it gently
And I always pay attention to it.
It bounces and flutters in my hand,
Almost up to its edge.
My heart is beating incredibly wild
And I give it a calming picture.
With loving words I talk to it:
In a relaxed, peaceful tranquility may you serve my body.
I am full of gratitude in me,
All this love belongs to you.
You have always provided my body good
And I admire your everlasting courage.
In all fears, in all fright
You have been always awakened.
Through my body you pump the blood,
Even at very extreme anger.
All that always in love to me,
For this I thank thee.
I need all my life
Your everlasting song.
Until I have accomplished my work on Earth
And my soul will set out.
Please accompany me with all your strength,
Until the path is reached.
Till then, I will join
Serenaded are the vultures past the
silence of calm demeanor,
where only leaves fall in a quiet Autumn.
The gusts of haunted winds run through a
chilled air that even ghosts choose to
evade in the darkest hours.
No Sunlight had touched the soils below
in any matter of time,
though it had given first light to growth.
Though that canopy cannot keep away the
howls and screams of undead scavengers
which only muffled the sounds of better
birds who sang for the sun.
Third eyes were stitched shut and feet
were bound by illusive chains. How little
the closed treasure chest could ever hold,
where when opened it would have overflowed,
blotting out the haunted sounds and using
the limited light within darkness.
The vultures search only to find with eyeless
sockets, the lively canopy of those growing woods.
Time and all of space could never have grazed those
soils, however wet or dry. Whatever was let in was
by the canopy that guards and shelters.
There were paths in those woods, where many feet h
Passage to the Catacombs of TimeWhen day becomes empty
In the dusk,
When time without pictures begins,
Lonesome voices combine –
Animals are nothing more than hunters
Or being hunted –
Flowers are only fragrance –
When everything becomes nameless like in the beginning –
You will go down to the catacombs of time
That will open to those
Whose end is near –
There where the heart seeds grow –
Deep into dark contemplation
You will sink –
Already passing death
That is only a windy passage –
And freezing from the exit
You will open your eyes
In which already a new star
Has left its reflection.
baby stepsit was probably
celsius met fahrenheit
in a sloppy french kiss on frozen ground.
after all the walking,
the skin of my hands started to crack and bleed;
silence, i decided,
was the solution and the cure. i dipped
my hands into its glowing broth:
warmth suffused my body struggling
to sit still.
on marched the sun,
You're just a puppetI am everything,
I am nothing.
I am everywhere,
I am invisible.
I'm in your head and won't let go.
You beg for my approval,
I am light,
but you will never see me.
But you will never know me.
You don't know yourself.
You are lost.
You know what i allow you to know.
You're just a puppet, who thinks he's alive
You're just a puppet.
RevolutionChains and chains of hopeless bind the system together
No one feeling like they can change the world
No one feeling like our very existence is just vanity
No one feeling like there is anything to live for
Millions and millions of confusion in the air tonight
Fills the blue skies and enters into our hearts
Confusion and vanity is what the world runs by
Be this, do that, give this, believe that; all I can do now is raise my fist in the sky
As I raise my fist high in the sky, I shout a battle cry of life
There is only one voice that still stands out through the generations
I shout a battle cry with my fist in the sky; words that brings the world to life
Words that brings light back into the hearts of people from young to old
Revolution; time to end the misery
Revolution; time to show the world the true meaning of life
Revolution; time to show the world that true love exists beyond our understanding
Revolution; time to cry out into the heavens for love to come down
Revolution; time to rise
Message to Gaia.Time have passed above my head
I remember when from my diary I read,
I used to look into your eye."
My dear, is the only thing
That still keeps me alive.
Can you recall
Which we call our own,
Where you and I
Used to hide
To become one with All?
I still cry them back
When I stargaze and look above,
When I hug your precious love,
When you give me companions
To forget the sadness of a lonely heart.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More