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Beginnings, Chapter FourHauling mountains of luggage, plus the sleeping child, Arthur plodded up the path to the log cabin. He knocked at the door. And waited. And waited. Arthur looked back over his shoulder. The driver had already left, meaning Arthur was alone. At least, he felt alone. The sleeping child was more a responsibility than a companion, and Arthur felt more weighed down and tired than he had felt in ages. At long last, the door creaked open.
There he was, just as Arthur remembered. Tall, long haired, and with something of a miniature beard. Francis’ eyes sparkled just as they had on the day he and Arthur had met. All at once, Arthur felt the bittersweetness of lost love and the angry rush of bloody battle. There were a million words he wanted to say. He started with one.
“Welcome to my home,” Francis replied. “Please, come in.”
Ask The Romance Expert
Dear Romance Expert,
Even though I am AWESOME, I could use some help. There’s this guy. He’s quiet and shy, but sweet as maple syrup. I’d do anything to get his attention, but, as the old trope goes, he doesn’t even know I exist. The weird thing is, I think I might be the only person who knows he exists. It’s kind of a weird situation. What should I do?
-- The Awesome Me
Your confidence is a wonderful asset. However, if this fellow you’ve got your eye on is really as shy as you say, it is important that you do not overwhelm him. Like a rose, love must blossom slowly. Make your move, but do so carefully.
The Romance Expert
Dear Romance Expert,
I have a problem. I have a crush on my neighbour. He’s a really nice guy, if not a little awkward, but he’s fun and we get along well together. I think he likes
BlindfoldSuch a pretty blindfold
On such a pretty youth
A lust for revolution
But no taste for the truth
A plant that’s gone to seed
More poison in the water
Too many words to read
Such a pretty slogan
And such a slick salute
So many ideas
And every word acute
They call themselves the heroes
I called them too far gone
But then you went and joined them
And tied your blindfold on
I miss the friends I used to know
The people I’d admired
I’d held a blindfold in my hands
But threw mine in a fire
I’ll never shy away from facts
And thus I’m called uncouth
Because it’s a such a pretty blindfold
And such an ugly truth
Beginnings, Chapter ThreeFlecks of grass caught in the carriage wheels as they spun along the fledgling nation’s excuse for a road. It wasn’t that no one cared enough to build a proper road. It was just hard to decide where best to put one, seeing as Canada had relatively few visitors spread out over a lot of space.
Inside the carriage, little Alfred bounced up and down on the seat cushion. The momentum of the carriage urged him onward while every bump they rolled over sent him popping out of his seat. He had passed time on the long journey by making a game of it, purposefully jumping and letting the carriage’s shifting balance fling him along.
Under normal circumstances, Arthur would have insisted he sit still, but after spending so long in close quarters with the youngster, he was simply glad that he was entertained. Relishing these relatively peaceful moments, Arthur caught up on some sleep. He had no way of knowing when he’d be interrupted once ag
Beginnings, Chapter TwoArthur may have been wrong about a lot of things, but he was right that Matthew needed companionship his own age. As bad as the fighting between Arthur and himself had been, Francis had to admit it was unfair to keep Matthew and Alfred separated. There were no other children in the area, so Matthew’s only friends were the squirrels and raccoons and ring-necked geese that populated the area. And, of course, his best friend was his papa - a papa who (however begrudgingly) knew the right thing to do. Grumbling, Francis pulled a new sheet of paper from the stack on his desk. He looked out the window to see little Matthew playing outside, and he silently cursed Arthur once more. With a freshly dipped quill in his hand, he began to write.
J’accepte ton idée
He scratched it out. He had forgotten to whom he was writing, apparently. Taking another piece of blank paper, Francis reminded himself that switching la
Beginnings, Chapter OneDay dawned early, brimming with the promise of summer. The scent of morning flowers perfumed the late June air, so Francis propped the door open wide. He crossed the cabin’s slightly uneven wooden floor and pulled the curtains away from the window as well. Soon, the quaint log cabin was filled with warmth and sweetness and sunlight.
Stoking the banked embers in the tiny cast iron stove, Francis hummed to himself. He loved this time of year. It was a time of fond memories and new beginnings. He cracked a few eggs into a pan and set them over the flames to cook. That’s when he heard a squeak and a thud behind him.
Francis turned around to see a pair of short, chubby legs sticking out from under a tangle of cloth. A single blond curl protruded from what appeared to be a sleeve.
“M’aidez...” the bundle whimpered. “M’aidez, s’il vous plait.”
Chuckling to himself, Francis approached th
AutumnTilting past the equinox
Slipping on the angled light
My place in time is losing tread
And falling into winter’s bite.
100mg of nature.the clouds are lost today,
like unsung lullabies
stuck in the throat of a strangled sky.
the flowers levitate today,
their tissue paper wings
pink sertraline dreams that the bees cannot sting.
the trees bob their heads today,
like tired old men
falling asleep in church, disillusioned again.
the white thistles are stuck today,
entrapped by their names.
hissing popcorn on stilts, or rupturing brains.
the sun mottles the grass today,
in psoriasis patches,
like liver spots on ivy in the window sashes.
the wind kisses sick patients today,
tucking them in,
and then flees in a rustling dress while she sings.
The Nature of LoveThe wind passes through,
howling by our window panes
angry and ever fierce.
Yet the sun still beams down
leading us to catlike behaviours,
sleeping in her warm beams.
Then there are the angry days,
crashing thunder and bright glares of lightning
creating fear in its midst.
But the days most preferred
are the calm spring days,
where everything is finally peaceful.
Gentle spring rains,
or the cool, breezy days
not too hot, not too cold.
The cool and quiet lead up to summer,
Spring gets not the recognition it deserves
everyone should be celebrating.
Yet more people recognise
the aggressive winter,
he makes his grip well known.
Or the hot summer
who spreads the quiet heat of rage,
why is she so well loved?
Or even the autumn
which is more often too cold,
is often preferred to spring.
Why can we not learn to love
the perfect spring weather,
as we have learnt to love ourselves?
AutumnReds and Golds;
there are pumpkins everywhere.
fall off the golden trees.
The smell of rain;
fills the air.
Frost covers the land,
leaving behind a crystal wonderland.
In the pumpkin fields,
getting lost in the corn maze.
for Trick or Treaters.
to the rain drops,
patter on the roof top.
While the smell,
fill the room.
It is autumn,
and soon winter will come.
As I opened my eyes, the only thing I saw was the sky. With its azure-colored background, fluffy clouds were splashed all over, the sky looked as if it was in a good mood. Sailing through them were a flock of birds, spreading their wings as if they were a kite. The gentle winds blew the leaves of the trees, making them dance in excitement. As I looked at the dark-blue lake beneath the hill, swans were seen, peacefully floating on the waters like buoys on the seas. Alongside them were their offspring, clinging together as close as possible like a thread in a cloth.
As I turned to my right, I saw field, filled with grass and trees. The scenery was like a painting of a masterpiece that was made once in blue moon. The plains the filled with children, playing tag, not realizing that they could play something much more fun. Right beside me were my siblings, sleeping soundly, locked away in dreamland.
As I stood up, I realized that this
Cycle of LifeWe walk because we can,
we walk because we need to,
we walk to go forward...
Then, we stop.
We stop because we're tired,
we stop because we need a break,
we stop because when we close our eyes...
We open them to see a new day.
Prayer of the Peaceful oneQuiet contemplation.
See with closed eyes,
But with opened mind.
Cold wind and rain,
Whisper in my ear.
Meditation of soul...
Give me stillness of heart,
Grant me calming sublimity,
And oneness with the earth.
Oh, the summer moon!
Stripped to bare skin, burnished smooth
Bathes in still waters
The moon rose, slinking
Over trees, their leaves burnished
And dull foil silver finished
She, the moon sipped
The dark of waves
Of deep waters, grey
And mercury dipped.
As an old woman she laid
Just above the rock reef stone
Hooded, in her winter shade
A specter of both coal and bone.
Rain, incessant, settled into
A heavy October mist.
I was alone, except
Beside me on the cold sheets
You left behind the low hung moon
Moon, the moon
Who might, in hurried footfalls break
The midnight springtime’s upturned face
In settling on a mirrored wave
Her visage crests, then swiftly cracks
While gulls with banded wingtips snap.
Into the mists, concealing all
As on the rocks the slivers fall
The Last ElephantLumbering through grey Savannah
Kicking up swirls of dust
Path making on Earth's crust
The last elephant finishes his circle.
It's voice is hoarse from calling
Its brothers, who are gone
Fallen under the poachers' gun
Their breath stolen from existence.
The elephant knows death is near
Its ancient legs shake
There's no decision to make
Its wandering is done here.
And when it settles down for final sleep
Its majestic tusks will be stolen
Its face ripped open
Such is the fate of the last elephant.
So admire it as it walks, while it walks
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More