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birra's Journal


birra's Journal

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8 entries this month
 

Even better....

03:37 Dec 31 2008
Times Read: 879


I love this part..


COMMENTS

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sahahria
sahahria
14:26 Dec 31 2008

OMG so flippin true Hahahahahaaha!!!





 

OH Canada!

03:11 Dec 31 2008
Times Read: 891





This is a scene from the Michael Moore documentary called, "Canadian Bacon."


I practically grew up in Southern Ontario... or at least at the ballet.

COMMENTS

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birra
birra
03:16 Dec 31 2008

Yes.. I know it isn't a documentary.



This is a little thing I like to call... a joke.





imagesinwords
imagesinwords
03:18 Dec 31 2008

lol That's how I always pictured them to be, ass kickin' hockey players.





Morrigon
Morrigon
03:21 Dec 31 2008

A JOKE?



How dare you!



*hugs*





furcifer
furcifer
14:06 Jan 03 2009

Love it!



We do have many fine ballets here, don't we?





 

Of forests and fields, a goddess is to another goddess...

05:55 Dec 28 2008
Times Read: 917







With a mischievous glare

She calls to me


Strands and curls fall

A silky frame around

Her picturesque beauty

A vision

High from Olympus

Bronze flesh

Soft against the harsh world


With a come-hither stare

She calls to me


Open hands extended

Close around my heart

With her touch

The cold becomes warm

And in her eyes

An eternal fire burns

Softening this armor

To malleable steel

And without hammers or anvils

She will shape this into a vessel

Which only she can control


With a breath

These sails are filled

With a sigh

Her silent song

My rapture


Without a sound

Her lips command me


My will dissolves

And I crawl

To the altar of my goddess

A bed of satin and lace

And a final toll

This gift of my flesh

My blood flows and spills

For her delight

And in her pleasure

I am reborn

COMMENTS

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Joli
Joli
03:43 Dec 29 2008

Beautiful image and words, hand in hand.





 

Rescind your dastardly claim...

04:10 Dec 27 2008
Times Read: 927


I know the secrets you try to hide

Obvious as the light of the sky

Against the dark seas high tide

I see through your intentions

Clear as this bottle before me

Powerful as the liquid it contains

Imprisoning that which should be free

Imbibing to the core of my being


Truth and fiction

One in the same

Spongy and weak

You will rescind your claim

...


COMMENTS

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PRIVATE ENTRY

04:03 Dec 27 2008
Times Read: 929


• • • • PRIVATE JOURNAL ENTRY • • • •


 

My mentor, My inspiration...

15:46 Dec 20 2008
Times Read: 951


Taking a page from Joli’s “How to Write” guide, I decided to put her suggestions to practice.


I’m taking a look at some familiar feelings… dread and foreboding. But first, a haiku.


Black washes over me

White snow hides all signs of life

The world dies again


*ahem*


Emo haiku. But it flows into my subject, dread and foreboding. Now, to pick up a couple images from Google that might lead a bit more substance to my poem.

This picture…Hmmm... a woman walking alone along a tree lined wall.

An old house behind a wrought iron fence, described as bringing back a sense of dread and foreboding.

A woman with glow-sticks in her cleavage?? Huh?


Ok, anyway, the first two will do.


So… from these pictures and my own internal thoughts, and what I see around me…


A place so familiar

Of discontent

Of discomfort

These old shoes

Once comfortably worn

Now broken and misshapen

Blister his skin with every stride


Shadowed feelings hang over him

Like the branches of the oaks above

Empty and gnarled

Boney fingers threatening

Pointing

Laughing

Dressed in their innocence

A white gown to wear

When life sleeps

And love dies


This iron gate

Rarely opens for the traveler

And the mansion of splendor

That resides beyond

Its hallowed halls

Seldom echo his footsteps

His head knows not the pleasures

Of its feather beds

And silver linens

He cannot warm his frozen hands

At its glowing hearth


He can only look in from beyond

To this unreachable bliss

Locked away

And left behind

To the merciless laughter

Of the trees

And the north winds

That blow his heart cold

In this

The winter of his love


He travels on

In his hand

Only a broken compass

Inscribed with the word

“Promise”




Thank you, Joli. You are always an inspiration.


COMMENTS

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Morrigon
Morrigon
15:58 Dec 20 2008

Wow.... These words go beyond images.





Joli
Joli
19:48 Dec 20 2008

Morri's right. They far transcend the images you used as a sprigboard. You made them yourown and they are beautiful. I actually loved the haiku, too. Look how much you did within that concise piece...a progression from black to white to death. You are one hell of a writer. I love that you are willing to try new things. It's amazing to watch you grow as a writer, producing beautiful lines like:



"To the merciless laughter

Of the trees

And the north winds

That blow his heart cold

In this

The winter of his love




Inspiration must be a circle, because you are often my own. Never stop writing.





 

This is no dressed rehersal...

11:27 Dec 12 2008
Times Read: 971


The image that glows

Spotlights and accolades

Applause and the roses thrown on stage

A performance for an audience of one

Held before the thunderous approval

From the masses and the many

This silent voice that says so much

Standing tall upon the stage

In front of the dusty curtain

Hidden behind a revealing mask

Disguised by the stage

Illuminated by the spotlight

Invisible to the audience

Only the words can be heard

From this silent voice

And the fleeting sense

What this show is about

The plot and the action play out

With no actors on the stage

Just a single voice

In silence

And this performance

All for an audience of one


COMMENTS

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Joli
Joli
20:01 Dec 20 2008

I know this comment is late. I like to read some of your work over again, spend some time with it before firing off my first thoughts.



The voice is both silent and audible since there are words heard...that's quite brilliant. The words are not the silent voice. That voice remains unheard and this poem tells us that the unvoiced is infinitely more interesting than anything else going on with that stage.



What I love most is the flow of the lines that give us in succession:



Hidden

Disguised

Illuminated

Invisible



I'll be back to read this one again :)





 

Slippery Stones...

04:37 Dec 09 2008
Times Read: 993


The slippery stones smile

Toward the scraped knees

And the blues of this mood

Cannot be soothed

By the miles or the smiles

Or the begging and the pleas


My eyes see and my eyes take

Along my weary way

The stories gathered in gloom

Another empty room

Through towns and over grounds

Nowhere meant to stay


In this empty drought of life

Given the means to think

Finding every punch of pain

Burning in sun light, drowning in rain

My mind twists; thoughts persist

Threatening to be gone in a blink


Never will there be solace

In the taste of blood or steel

Moonless sky; this darkest night

A smile creeps with my delight

This single round in the chamber found

A wound that will not heal


A slight of hand

Slighted by hope

No faith to lend

Or heart to mend

Mind bending pain; on the brink of insane

How are we to cope?


Finding the strength

From the blood within these jagged veins

These hearts beat hard

Each moment another card

Hands overflow with what we don’t know

Each beat finding more pain


These pillars shows the cracks

Being overcome by the rising tide

Chipping away

A little more each day

Pieces fall but we will still stand tall

If we stand by each other’s side


COMMENTS

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Morrigon
Morrigon
05:03 Dec 09 2008

The slippery stones smile

Toward the scraped knees

And the blues of this mood

Cannot be soothed

By the miles or the smiles

Or the begging and the pleas





I am in love with this





Joli
Joli
07:09 Dec 09 2008

She's right, you know. It's gorgeous.





faeriemoon
faeriemoon
23:24 Dec 09 2008

"My eyes see and my eyes take

Along my weary way

The stories gathered in gloom

Another empty room

Through towns and over grounds

Nowhere meant to stay"



The emotion in this is tangible. I know this feeling. I've felt it a thousand times over in the pit of my stomach. I just never know whether to associate it with fear or jubilation of what's next.



Again, your words continue to astound me. How you visualize your experiences with words is beautiful.








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