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Flyspecks“Naming the stars is like naming the flyspecks on the ceiling. It means you’ve been here too long.” He hiked himself up on his elbow and turned to peer down at the glints her eyes caught of the stars. He felt the grass flick up against his arm, reforming from the cleft his shoulder had made. “It is a pretty boring town,” she said and sighed. But he knew that even the sigh was a falsehood. “I mean the planet,” he said. She rolled on her side to look at him. He could barely make out how her slender eyebrows wrinkled together. “Oh. I didn’t know you wanted to be an astronaut.” &Flyspecks
by ~MiraAstar
Without FormAt the edge between dark and door I shivered at the touch Of tin bits of legends and unburnished lore. Silvery vines with searching tips And dusty fine tendrils that wisped to mind The edges of lives, and the heads of trails Heroes on quests with nothing to find Madmen trapped twixt the ends of tales,Without Form
Actors with parts but lacking a play, And apocalypses grasping at aftermaths All caught in the grasp of surreality, Their echoes pleading in tickling whispers, "We are bound. Give us form." But when I reached beyond the door they flew Leaves aloft o
by ~MiraAstar
The EndI had come to the end of the world. There, on the very edge of everything, stood a great tree. Its trunk was the size of a house and the strips of bark that curled off it were as large as the branches of any normal tree. I clambered up onto its large exposed roots, and leaning on a bark strip, peered down. The edge of the world, like an everlasting cliff face, stretched down below me. When I looked up and out I could see nothing, nothing beyond the straight cliff edge and the roots of the tree woven in and out like giant dead worms, nothing, not even stars, not even darkness, just nothing. I hope my gentle reader will forgive me, but there isThe End
by ~MiraAstar
Sructure and LydiaLegend tells us that before the world of Sructure was, before the All-Father made the sky and the water and the land and all that dwell thereon, when the All-Father himself was young, way back in the Before Time, the All-father walked in the World Before among mortal men. And he was of them and yet separate. He was of them because he was the son of a mortal man and a mortal women. (For even gods must have humble beginnings.) But he was separate from them for he was made of earth and would never age or grow old or die. And so through many years he walked alone, keeping himself apart from mortals except in times of trouble. (For the All-FatherSructure and Lydia
by ~MiraAstar
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What Makes A Good EndWhat Makes A Good EndWhat Makes A Good End
Two old shoes flaking mud on the kitchen floor. A handful of peaches growing wise on the rack. I will have just set down the knife and stepped from that room
into this one, where the light is a good deal better. The back wall of the house, still unpatched, will want paint, but I will be crunching almonds,
having set aside something I was not quite ready to take on – a moment longer. My head turning to the windows, looking
out back – two weak boards complaining over every brush of wind. The sound will remin
by *b1gfan
from him to me,or someone elsefrom him to me or someone elsefrom him to me,or someone else
there are blackberry stains on your fingertips on Thursday, we picked them from the brambles hushed as deer tiptoed through the thicket.
the clasp on your necklace turned front naked gold among saltwater pearls and I ask if I can fix it only to brush against the constellations of freckles on your collarbone.
and you’re only wearing a white shirt and I love you for it, but not love really so much as I’m drawn forward against will or wind or force of nature.
August 14th, 2009
by =bekkia
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- Current Residence: Somewhere Else
- Interests: Reading, Sketching, Chocolate, Writing, CoH, Chocolate....
- Favourite movie: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
- Favourite band or musician: Danu
- Favourite genre of music: Celtic
- Favourite poet or writer: Charles Dickens
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Pixel-arting, smiley-making, emote-drawing, web-designing, story-writing, webcomic-creating, internet-loving, mom of many. Visit me at BitmapWorld --> [link] . * Take the *holidayhousetour
Avatar by ~AidanAsha
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Pixel-arting, smiley-making, emote-drawing, web-designing, story-writing, webcomic-creating, internet-loving, mom of many. Visit me at BitmapWorld --> [link] . * Take the *holidayhousetour
Avatar by ~AidanAsha
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"To really ask is to open the door to the whirlwind. The answer may annihilate the question and the questioner." - Lestat
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"Deep inside, in the world of empty words"
- Chuck Schuldiner
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