Oracle Child Prologue by Ridderkvinden, literature
Literature
Oracle Child Prologue
It was all white noise.
All of it.
The voices hummed through her mind like distant echoes of dreams, always muttering and mumbling whether she was awake or asleep. Sometimes, one or more voices would rise in a crescendo, demanding to be heard, screaming warnings or prophecies through her lips.
Sibyl Sarentis, the Child Oracle of Tacendo Foran, was lying in her ornate glass egg, suspended within a nutritious gel that kept her floating weightlessly. Tubes and wires were plugged into sockets along her spine and neck, and into her nose and mouth, constantly feeding her nutrients and vital, electrical pulses that kept her muscles from locking and
Roses or Thorns
Passage of time
is the wisdom
that finds
truth in love,
life with fulfillment.
Passage of time
watches a baby
crawling,
then walking
into this vast world
no one can explain.
Passage of time
makes hearts swell
or bitterness fester.
Trapped in pain,
sticks its' thorns.
Reality wakes us
to see what’s strong
through its' grace.
In this beauty
we hold onto
life's mystifying journey.
.
May hearts rise
embracing worthy,
let dark shadows
fall away.
Only leaves will die
after souls waken to joy,
as the rose
colors our world with glory,
the thorns
break away.
rewr
...oh yes howl and embrace the madness
...let the weak fall to the ground
...may tomorrow know no gladness
...raise our glass and cheer
...as the moon becomes full
...glazed eyes and lips that howl
...we stop and wonder is there anymore
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Gently the stings are plucked
listen to wind blow across
the ocean blue
maybe you know the tune
as the words come into view
what the moon teaches us is
no one exists as a constant.
some days you will orbit elsewhere.
the angles of light that
make up the shadows of you
will keep moving.
it is the same with the ocean
and how it does not meet
the shore the same each time:
some days it will come crashing,
eroding: or it comes back to kiss
its edges over and over
there are some days i am more
of a tsunami. there will be days
you will be eclipsed.
and i don't mind this. the moon is
up in the sky but the ocean still feels
the weight of its pull, always.
i want to drown in the
push and pull of your gravity
in all the ways that's possible.
i could get used to the
di
Freedom rings. Freedom waves like a banner in the wind. It's old and tattered. So very frayed at the edges but all anyone can see is the big red letters, so bold they're on the verge of blinding. A mess of scarlet ink is all I could make out, the words blurred from a rush of adrenaline. Some make out a blessing, a soft flowing font spelling out a prayer, but me…I was a bull charging, daring those words to come into focus- challenging my conformity.
I was whiskey brave or was it wine? Oh yes, it was a nice Cabernet left to breathe between my lips then a Moscato so sweet I couldn't see past the taste. A glass half full of defiance that l
Your thoughts
Are like golden coins
Shinning in water
Your warmth
Has touched my soul
A ray of hope
In a darken room
Full of hurt
Shows I am worth
More than a
Handful of dirt
You have lifted me
When I was down
When I was
Being pulled
Under with despair
You woke me up
And made me aware
To face a new day
Paint all the mirrors
From grey to white
Am smiling...am ok
Ok my friends
If you’re reading this
Then you’re the ones
That left the check-box
Un-checked
So I must ponder
What’s wrong?
At this time
With my art
I have been here
A long time
Am old as dirt
Younger than sand
During that span
Had ups and downs
As all must face
At one time or another
Trial and error
Learn by doing
Baptism by fire
Was my learning curve
Dark to light
Photos to thoughts
Many ways to weave
The many dreamscapes
Dream to dream
My vision has
Become more clear
As a rise upon the ladder
Until now
Current Greenwich Time
Am standing still
As time slips backwards
Have I gone blind?
I
It All Begins With A Dance-REDONE 7/2016 by SueJO, journal
It All Begins With A Dance-REDONE 7/2016
Recently I had a battle with an illness which stole my ability to create with words or speak properly. This is why I made this journal. Never again do I want to feel trapped in a glass jar unable to express myself. This may or may not be the work of my friends. The poems are mine. You have been given a gift of expression, please remember, no amount of money will ever replace it. Only your passion for your desire to keep the arts strong will. Schools are trying to take this away, DA is a place to say
I Sing the Body Electric
By Walt Whitman
I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
T