When she speaks, the room is tender;
her open body rested 'gainst the chair that nestles her;
poking through the maze are warm sun pools and shadow-backs draped:
A warbling song of ages awakening
and gathering amidst us--
of brave knights and dark years
and a thousand mothers and a wrenching instant,
and the room draws itself about
the gentle resting woman leaning back
whose hands, so thick and rough,
lie on her laps, a quiet worn shell scraped upon them.
There are those whose hands are punctuation of their speech.
The fingers stretch. Swoop. Demand.
Draw back, and fold, and keep wanting something more.
But she, her hands speak fo
Her eyes are rivers heading out to sea;
set fountain-like above her pillared nape,
the probing jewels proffer piercing inquiry--
a chiseled stare that molds the world; it shapes.
Songbirds alighting on the burbling ripples,
her speech pours out in shelves of soft cascades,
the fresh new streams each moment quickly trickle
over stubborn stones; their every nook embrace.
She reaches out: holds fire in her grasp,
her birch-bough arms shake the fall leaves west,
till with diamond rods she captures us in a clasp
to wait, patiently, seeking green-couched nests.
One day, her branches will our deep roots cast;
her eyes' blue
Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 180 by sunnyfreshleaves, literature
Literature
Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 180
A piece, to taste forgetfulness—⸺it dares.
Surrendering to the million gleams that vie
to grasp one's heart, dance with it cross the sky.
Fifteen, I, too met rivers' souls so fair,
and inspiration wrapped like robes to wear.
I sailed upon your silver breaths that fly
to trace from Lethe and fill posterity⸺
till a smoky soul beclouded smokeless air.
Then heavy consciousness did through all seep:
yon hearts, yon joys, perceived, blurred and grew still
while yonder world gathered itself to weep:
time itself lugged burdens dragging, till
your lavish sun, who dizzy zenith keeps,
could fill these dulled eyes not with rays he spi
So intimate, its branches crystalline,
your maze unfolds: spread manifold and far—
a sweeping history, yon battle keen;
and that one single soldier, heart wrenched raw—
There stand you now: a lithe meniscus trembling
atop the dizziness 'tween known, unknown—
till iridescent lightwaves break—tumbling
through your soul's caves, wash them in melody—
and once again, like thousand times before,
when consciousness comes rising like the sun,
you count the crannies, give to all a name:
protons see orange comments upon on affection—
bring the stuff together, choose echoes of;
remake, and twist, and twine; and proffe
Gravitational Dance by sunnyfreshleaves, literature
Literature
Gravitational Dance
Two rounded spheres come quirky to conjoin:
each with the other's presence sensed within,
and, drawing near—drawing and looming vast
quicker—and now pass in each one's sightline—
but zip on by. Ripped—by longing behind,
the journey, inward curving, passionate,
now wraps round, round, dizzy—yet so helpless—
the speed pulling each heart—ruthless wracking round
towards one center: mediate linking point
that neither seeks yet ever does approach.
Each fixed instead on motion-filled North Star,
one for the other, quickening purposed dance.
They crash—at last, messily embrace—
shocked at the impu
the bursting beams
shine ever forth—
but wait,
there upon the silver-crested ridge
lies awaiting
fast swelling from the deep—
that which
—run!
blaze forth fast like gazelles
escape and run run run
swallowed up at last by the sun
fall softly in, fall softly in
let echoes ring, let echoes crone
bask in the blazing sun so bright
that drops on shadows deep below
fall softly in, fall softly in
let flutes on windy whispers sing
let green whisk fluttering cross the sky
and souls on air float feathers past
let drops of sun, let rays of rain
kiss human breath and daisy dew,
let gushing rise and set of sun
pour rivers running tender by
let love shine sheltered in a clasp
we none of us do truly wake,
paint soft our watercolor dream
lest heavy huff kill with a snap
When I awake the bustling follies fly;
my half-lit soul slinks, loath to push them by,
though shapeless aims dangle upon existence—
some loud crash interrupts with dissonance—
these restless gazes of our gray-dulled eyes.
Who knows how much we say, how much is mime.
The world breathes in to listen to bells chime,
just one small breath that barely strokes the air
so heavy, hot; hands grasping melt with wear.
But then we know we’re simply biding time.
And Kurtz, the glorious child of favored line—
His image putters, itching up my spine;
and oh! the lousy nothing climbs still higher!
Take up a scrawny twig to sooth my i
details writ large by sunnyfreshleaves, literature
Literature
details writ large
How lovely is the cosmos of idealls,
the half-shade sphere of earthe demure blue,
the land and forests green witht boughs of life
and sun bright hot, itst golden light-filled arm flinging
us round in perfecte circle as we dance
in our own cycles; day and night unforlding
by starslight and sun, moon so shining white.
Time we shelve in dewdrops of experiaence,
stitched seamlessly in story plot like geodmeters
packing circles snug on planes in tenderdest kiss.
Love here ever faithuful ever bright,
by suffering made like gold deeppened; refined.
details writ large by sunnyfreshleaves, literature
Literature
details writ large
How lovely is the cosmos of idealls,
the half-shade sphere of earthe demure blue,
the land and forests green witht boughs of life
and sun bright hot, itst golden light-filled arm flinging
us round in perfecte circle as we dance
in our own cycles; day and night unforlding
by starslight and sun, moon so shining white.
Time we shelve in dewdrops of experiaence,
stitched seamlessly in story plot like geodmeters
packing circles snug on planes in tenderdest kiss.
Love here ever faithuful ever bright,
by suffering made like gold deeppened; refined.
I'm transitioning to a sort of half-existence on deviantArt. I'm sorry if I seem to be ignoring your messages or comments or other activity; I'll try to get them as soon as I can.
Hey all,
This may come as a surprise since I've been posting and commenting and faving kind of excessively recently, but I'm gonna be away from deviantArt for a while. I don't know how long I'll be away, but I'd estimate around a month or so.
I have a lot of math stuff I want to catch up on--a graph theory research project I hope to finish, some introductory set theory I want to learn, and some multivariable calculus I need to brush up on. (Planning to place out of multivariable so I don't have to retake it.) Plus I have to learn linear algebra in school. None of this has a strict deadline, (except linear algebra I suppose), but I do want t