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Deviant for 13 Years
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Literature
For Jessie
Rest your head
and do not struggle for a while.
All of the pain, and worry, and fear
drains away
as you rest your head
here
in the heart of my love for you.
Here, there is no judgement, no reckoning, no uncertainty
Here, there is only a moments' peace, and care, and comfort...so come...
rest your head.
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Literature
body memory
what is it
about this moment
that has me
transfixed on an ancient memory?
the gray of the darkening sky?
the sparkling air?
the snow on the ground?
the line of tail lights stretched out before me?
i am a child
in the back seat
in december
going to a toy store
or maybe coming home
that day
that moment
looked exactly like this
mother at the wheel
grandmother in the passenger seat
"your elbows are sharp, honey,
don't rest them on my shoulders."
the bag of corn chips
the smell
the taste
the excitement
the cold winter day
the traffic
looking out through my windshield now
i am the driver
alone
on a darkening day
in december
and there are sparkles in the air
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Literature
Submitting
My familiar shore
a distant reach behind,
I stand
to face the wave.
Cold, teetering in the wake,
toes in pebbly sand,
I gasp.
The rush
of awakening
slams into me.
Force against my body
knocks me back,
takes my breath.
And I submit.
With wide thrown arms,
wave-washed,
I am free.
Droplets cling
and trickle,
sliding down
and coursing over.
Shivering,
I look up-
and you are there.
In your eyes
is the acceptance
I have long sought.
In your arms
is the refuge
I have never known.
You
gather me in
to a new shore,
a safe harbor,
and I am warm again.
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Literature
Choosing
To submit to this wave
or remain
safely ashore
stifled by hope
so enduring,
not seeing proof
plain before me.
To maintain these fetters
or flow
open
climbing to light
now glimpsed
from well-deep walls
self imposed.
To strike--
or take the hand that's offered
reaching for
the long sought welcome
of my self
to submit to this wave.
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Literature
The White Crow
I didn't expect
you
to come along
and wire cut my heart.
You-
the elder statesman,
who lied
about his age
for fear of not winning me.
Self-named White Crow-
Blank Corvus,
an artist of words
and images.
You flew here
to roost
with kisses
and touches,
and soft whiskers.
Appealing to my
loneliness
with talk of my perfect curves
and bright mind.
You teased
with wanton candle lit wine
and
tales of
insatiable lust.
Finally,
you won my bed.
Weekends long,
months on end-
you came
to be expected.
Only to
take wing, once saying
"you,
I love."
Again wire bound,
now
I wonder.
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Ancestor Tree heals by triskele Ancestor Tree heals :icontriskele:triskele 0 0
Literature
Unmet
My silken, fragrant skin,
that burns
for lack of touching,
encases my solitariness
in a prickling awareness
of one.
The desire
to make the leap
from one
to oneness
with another
goes on
another day,
another night,
unmet.
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Literature
Old One Stands
A swarm-
swallows and swifts
dive and swirl.
Silent wings
over still waters.
Old One stands-
tall, sentinel,
not far into the wood.
Massive trunk,
solid, arching branches.
Litter of leaves,
shelter of leaves.
I ask a boon-
  strength
  wisdom
  solid foundation
  peace
...and leave a blessing-
  May you be protected from lightening
  and stand long--
  twice again as long
  as your already years.
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Literature
A Moment in Time
A Moment in time
(Full Moonrise, Summer Solstice 2005)
Russet orb rises,
veiled, mysterious.
Growing larger and brighter
as She climbs.
Longest day
passes gently
into bright softness.
The breeze whispers
of mystery
and belonging.
Dreams, waiting to be born,
wear mist before their eyes-
shrouded,
awaiting inspiration
as She watches.
Shortest night
begins softly
scented with gentleness.
Sweet mead in a chilled
stoneware mug
pleases my tongue.
Bugs dance
in the circle
cast by this lamp,
and candles flicker,
welcoming All.
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Literature
Fine cotton sheets
Soft,
fine cotton sheets,
like silk
coccoon
my sleeping form.
Free
of my shell bound life
in bliss
I fly,
draped in pale shades.
Unwelcomed
night sights
come out of
far away shadows.
A face-
a memory
better left dead,
cold,
and distant-
looms close.
His breath on my neck
the skin prickles
waking
The image,
now faintly unseen,
leaves me
angry
alone...always alone.
My sleep sandy mind
screams
You wanted out-
SO GET OUT!
Rubbing
moist eyes
I mutter
Leave me in peace
with my
soft,
fine cotton sheets
like silk.
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Literature
Attar
There's a perfume
painted on,
as if the wind
were an artist's brush.
The forest
in a bottle
to dab behind my ears.
This perfume-
this pungency,
Sweet, salty, musky, clean...
envelops me
and compels me
like the scent of a lover:
long lost, and forgotten,
or newly dreamed.
Smelling his back,
my arms wrapped round
his waist.
My head rests
between his shoulder blades.
I close my eyes-
memories and fantasies
meld...
Sun glistens the oil
on my nose and forehead.
Breeze ruffles
my unruly, fragrant hair...
and I breathe,
this scent
filling me,
as it rises
off of my
own warm skin.
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Literature
Walking before Equinox
I walk
toward spring's door
on a path unset.
Crisp grasses
rustle and sway
in wind like ice.
Naked branches
hug the clouds,
watching my ramble.
Suddenly
haunting cries
fall out of nowhere.
Spiraling cranes,
flying tiny-high,
announce
the approaching warmth.
Just then,
spring's door,
arrayed with blossoms
and full leaf buds,
cracks open.
Green eyes
peek out shyly-
grey brown leaves
decorate a beard.
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Literature
winter beach sand
"They" say
that love lasts forever,
but what do "they" know?
"They" say
that when we love,
really love,
we touch eternity.
Hm.  Well,
I knew a love
once
that was like the sun shining on me.
It was a waking dream,
like warm beams reflected off of water-
sparkling the eyes and burning the skin.
I glowed hot
beneath this heat.
I grew, and waved in the soft breezes,
and knew eternity, and earth bound peace.
But then.
But then.....
the ending came,
betrayed by trust,
betrayed by friendship-
my love-sun went dark.
When that love left me,
heart empty and eyes full,
eternity slipped through my fingers
like cold, winter beach sand.
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Literature
April Dragonflies
April Dragonflies
April Dragonflies?
Not sure I've ever seen one
this early.
Maybe it will be a year
of earliness.
April dragonflies
bringing the light
of transformation,
of summer,
into the cool, spring green
newness.
A year of earliness
transforms
into a year of change-
my life
unfolding
like crystalline
laced
wings.
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Literature
Ancestor-old Tree
Solid oaken body
Ancestor-old Tree
rising down into Earth
spiral stair
through the soil
into Light.
Solid oaken body
Ancestor-old Tree
sinking up into Cloud
air borne stair
through the mist
into Light
Solid oaken body
Ancestor-old Tree
bears my hollow-boned spirit
through her compassionate womb
into Light
Solid oaken body
Ancestor
Gate
Acorn giver...
Protective Standing One of strength and endurance...
My gratitude.
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Literature
Ancient Face
Ancient Face
reflecting prayers
like sunlight
echoing through time
in the silent sky.
I turn to Her,
my only Mother,
to seek
Light,
Wisdom,
Guidance.
In Her fullness
is the Truth.
In Her changing
is the Mystery.
Sister, Mother, Grandmother Moon.
Grandmothers all
echoing through time
sent prayers to the silent sky.
They turned to Her
in Her fullness-
in Her changing
and they found the Mystery
--they found the Truth.
May it be so for me--
Answers from the silent sky
as my prayers echo through time,
my voice joined as one
with the Grandmothers.
May it be so.
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paula
Artist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Oklahoma City
Favourite genre of music: rock, alternative, celtic, pagan, traditional
Operating System: xp
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Shell of choice: abalone
Wallpaper of choice: paint, actually
Skin of choice: warm, eager, and sensitive to my touch
Favourite cartoon character: Bugs Bunny
Personal Quote: no whining--just write poetry!
Interests
Greetings, peace, and brightness....

For anyone unfamiliar with this website, in order to view my entire collection of works, you need to find the "browse gallery" icon to your left and click on that.

The entire collection of postings does not appear to the left here. Those are just some recent postings.

When you get to the gallery, the poems appear as "thumbnails," just like what you see here.
There are two pages of poems.

Just point and click on a box, or on the title below the box, for the poem to open.  

If you just watch the words scroll in the thumbnail, you will not be able to read the entire poem.

Also, not that it's all that important, the dates shown on the website are POSTING dates, not composition dates.  

Some of my works were written LONG before the dates they were posted here.  

No, I was NOT horribly depressed in March of 04, that's just when I put up my first batch of postings on dA!

(many of the poems posted at that time were the result of my ex fiance` cheating on me with one of my MARRIED best friends, and the resulting heart break and dual household breaking, which took place in 2002... just so you know.  )

Enjoy, and thank you for your interest.
  
I am awed that some of my poems have been read and downloaded as often as they have!  
It warms my heart to see these numbers.

Perhaps, one day, the name of triskele will be famous!
  • Listening to: My cat licking himself
  • Reading: this screen
  • Watching: words appear on this screen
  • Eating: garlic potatoes and chicken
  • Drinking: BITCH wine

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:icontriskele:
triskele Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2008   Writer
i just got married to the man of my dreams!
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