Chapter OneOne autumn day, two strangers set off traveling, heading for the same place from opposite directions.Chapter One
Both were alone, and though they dreamed of love, neither expected to find it hidden in that place, among the cedar trees.
The first time he saw her, she was singing. She knew his name already, if not his face--he was a storyteller, and she was a weaver of words in her own way. Words, sung around a fire, spoken in rhythms and rhymes familiar to both, would be what quickened the spark between them. Only hours later, when the campfires began to darken, did they speak together for the very first time.
Thos
Your Mocking MouthI know that you’re no good for me That is the standard alibi I only love the memory Of moments that have passed me byYour Mocking Mouth
That kiss that I could never get Sitting in the corner of your mocking mouth As I turned and rode away On a wave of fortune swiftly heading south
But somehow you have followed me I find you in the dead of night Uncovered with my honesty A wrong that we will never right
That place that I can never reach Speaking from a corner of my hungry heart You can laugh at me from there You’re the jester, I’m the fo
SeaborneIn the beginning My maker made me with a keen eye for perfection A pleasing figure A smooth face and a crystalline reflection I was beautiful But the years have not been kind A broken vessel Out of hand is out of mindSeaborne
Now I am seaborne I am time worn A bit of glass beneath a century of waves And so I gleam forth From this cold shore Until the day a pair of searching hands Find something they can save
And so I drifted Sometimes a lonely sailor looked to me for answers But found no message I was a bottle on the sea, a hollow
Englyn for atticus-cshCast off! The day is waning, Waves on the shore complaining In old, dark tongues—sails strainingEnglyn for atticus-csh
To fullness afore the wind, Hurrying, from all that’s been, The lives of their huddled men.
No moon rides the clouds tonight And the stars are scarcely bright Each heart fiercely guards the light
Of home as its only guide. They know the water is wide; They are drifters on a tide
Whose whims can never be read. But the sea’s a lulling bed, And hope a fine figurehead
To follow in rough weather. S
Free Art Exchange/Giveaway/Thingy
Optimism
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Bob Carlos Clarke said of his wife Lindsey once "It takes a strong woman to be with a man that is obsessed with photographing the woman at the next table...."
Darklight Photography [link] Dance [link]
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If a man lives his life through to the end, and no one so much as noticed his passing, did he exist?
Am I a Man who dreams he was once a Wolf, or shall I, upon awakening, find that I am a Wolf who dreamed he was a Man?
Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ?
It's free and every nitwit such as myself who enters gets a small gift
but someone like you might win one of their $10 000 or $100 000 prizes.
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Jim Duvall
National Coalition for Sexual Freedom fighting for your rights to be who you are.
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Miembro/member de/of:
~spanish-deviants =BeautifulFotography ~xandaluciax *Respect-Us =GuitarGirlsClub ~dreamland-club *7Sins-Club =The-SUB-CLUB
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Motto of travel guide writers:
I think the man who wrote it has actually been to Turkey, which helps
- say Will Thacker in Notting Hill
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"America is all about speed. Hot, nasty, bad ass speed."
-Eleanor Roosevelt, 1936
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Life only becomes complicated when you can't make honest choices.
My Stock: ~DruidWuStock
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St. Francis said,
“A man who uses his hands is a laborer. One who uses his hands and mind is a craftsman. He who uses his hands, and his mind, and his heart is an artist.”
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