[x]

Tragic BeautyI remember lying in my hospital bed at the physical rehabilitation facility, far too many years ago, staring at a picture of a little girl. Someone had brought it in for me, though I didn't remember who or why. In the picture she was wearing shorts, and leaning to feed bread to the ducks gathered around her. I stared at the little girl's legs and cried. She was beautiful.

"I broke you," I whispered to her. "I'm so sorry I broke you. I never meant to. Please, forgive me." And she did, of course. But I'm not sure if that made it better or worse.

There was a poet staying in the room next to me. He was a brain trauma patient, unlike me. For so

The Ballad of SerenityA nightingale in a birch nearby,
sang a song that made her cry.
"Another note and I shall die!"
Her threat was met with no reply.

And so she rested by the stream,
and heard the crickets softly dream.
She watched the cattails kiss the stars,
believing heaven not so far.

"And here is where I shall be free,"
whispered fair Serenity.

The orphaned child, the strange young girl
born into an ancient world.
No elegance or skill had she
but the ballad, of Serenity.

She was cursed with just one song:
a ballad haunting, soft and long.
The words were never hers to hear,
but danced always beyond her ear.
On harp, flute, lyre she wiled aw

White OwlThe white owl opens up her eyes,
sways her vision to the skies;
seeking out a creature's cry,
through the woods' nocturnal sigh.

In the darkness crickets sing,
far beneath the owl's white wing.
Dew drops to the leaves still cling,
sparkling with a lucent sheen.

Senses alert, she prepares for flight,
hearing creatures near their plight,
she spreads her wings into the night
silent as moonlight, and as white.

Dark MotherBleed your colors to the ground,
let them swirl in the vortex of your breath.
The gathering chill escaped from your lungs
whispers the green earth into death.

Dark Mother, keep the spirits
you hold within your hands.
Souls eternally bidden,
soaked and seeped into the land.
Dark Mother, keep your fury
quivering deep within the ground.
Harm us not, but let us hear
the power of that sound.
The wheel is turning, always turning
as the sun falls from the sky.
Mother can you tell me,
oh can't you tell me why?
Dark Mother, stir your cauldron
deep living waters of rebirth.
Wash clean this wretched wreckage
we have wreaked upon the earth.
Dark Mother, shall we reap
all that we have sown?
When spring returns will you be there?
to light our path toward home?
The wheel is turning, always turning
as the seasons slowly die.
Mother can you tell me,
oh can't you tell me why?
Will you exhale a merciful breath,
to warm our world once more?
Or stop the wheel from turning,
leave us trappe

Today, I Am Still ThereToday the wind is warm
and carries scents that spark my memory.
Today, I am not here.
On a day much like this
I shattered my spirit;
splintered shards slid from my spine,
through shattered vertebrae,
and clung to cracks in walls,
then scattered on the wind.
Today I can feel those fragments,
I can smell it in the musty scent of books
that takes me back to the house made of paper and words.
Some fragment would remain there, I know,
even if not for the fall.
Today I smell roses,
I feel warmth against my skin,
and hear birds chirping hymns to the spring;
sometimes I can almost hear
footsteps on the deck,
and I wonder
if I even miss the sun.
Today, I am still there.
Today I can feel wind in my hair,
and if I close my eyes,
I can catch that fragment that still flies,
zipping past the sidewalks
on legs strong above the blades.
Today, I ride the wheels I long for.
I've always heard I was was an air spirit;
sound and scent my guides,
and to

December RainThrough mist, through my eyes, I see I am blind
my soul hath no knowledge, heart hath no sight
through my ears the wind blows, cold as the night
deafening me to the sounds of my mind

The sun, his face shining, mocks me with light
his bright severe finger pointing at me
illuminates things I can't bear to see
nowhere to hide, I am faced with my plight

But rain falls, empathic, drowning my cry
her icy chill numbs me so I cannot
feel memories of a heart so distraught
thus consoling me with tears from the sky

And if the rain cannot drown my sorrow
She will cry with me until the morrow

Copyright 2010 Julia Rain Jeys Wellman. All Right

Winter Alliance Contest!

Greetings, fair Allies! It is my pleasure to announce the Winter Alliance Contest!

:iconlit-visual-alliance:
What is the Alliance, you ask?
The Alliance is a project group intended to encourage visual and literary artists to work together. I've felt for some time that the dA Literature Community can at times be somewhat insular - to its detriment. We in the Lit Community are also sometimes prone to griping about the lack of exposure our work receives when compared to that of visual artists. So in the spirit of ^thorns brilliant Complaint Challenge I thought I would try to do something about that. And so the Alliance was born!
Because I, your founder, have a deep and abiding love for the seasons, this group will now host seasonal contests, and as the Autumn Contest is now over, it is time for Winter to reig

Unmarred Memento

I thought about how I cut my palm
falling on sharp rock
while we searched the lost and found
of the sea, hoping for treasure.

I wondered if the ocean
would take our lives as payment
for the wares it could not recover
until high tide -
when we would be long gone,
warm inside the cottage on the bluffs,
admiring our pilfered discoveries,
safe from the sinuous fingers of waves.

While outside the foghorns bellowed
and the mist crept in
through cracks too small to see,
seeping into our seaside refuge,
to once again caress
the lost shards of its kin.

I watched the blood swirl in the water
as white sea foam rushed forward
to colle

DreamsDreams. An odd word, isn't it? For it means two very different things. Dreams are your goals, your aspirations. They are also the visions that come to you in sleep. Why do we use the same word for them?

I am beginning to fear that my dreams are interfering with my dreams. I fear I may, in fact, be addicted to dreaming. I spend my life dreaming now, one or the other, asleep or awake: the two definitions wrestle with each other for control of me, like a rag doll, I am pulled back and forth, in and out, feeling nothing but stretched and shamed.

I am sick. I am damaged. I sleep. I truly think if I were to lie down right now and time was of no i

Announcing The First Lit-Visual Alliance CONTEST!Announcing the first contest for the
:iconlit-visual-alliance:
What is the Alliance, you ask?
The Alliance is a project group intended to encourage visual and literary artists to work together. I've felt for some time that the dA Literature Community can at times be somewhat insular - to its detriment. We in the Lit Community are also sometimes prone to griping about the lack of exposure our work receives when compared to that of visual artists.
So. In the spirit of `thorns brilliant Complaint Challenge I would try to do something about that. And so :iconlit-visual-alliance: was born.
As often as I hear literary artists complaining about lack of exposure, I hear visual artists complaining of a lack of inspiration and motivation to create art. And that, I must say, is simply nonsense. There is a massive amount of inspiration to be found on dA - and it's called th

Prayerearth shrugs shoulders
our tiny cities fall
swallowed by tears

yet in spirit,
together, our hearts stand strong
against the fallout

PassionYou look me over
And you turn away
You lead my heart
Into silent decay
'Cause you want something beautiful
Want something beautiful
You want something beatiful
So you look away

Well, this I call passion
This I call real
Are you ready to see me?
Are you ready to feel?
But you don't see anything
You don't see anything
No, you don't see anything
'Cause you don't see me

You speak such wise words
But won't believe what I say
Think you've got to hold out
For some brighter day
'Cause you want something real
Want something real
You want something real
But you turn away

And, this I call passion
This I call real
Are you ready

Letter To My Ten-Year-Old SelfDear Julia,

Hi. You don't know me yet, but I'm you, thirteen years from now. I'm writing to you because I know you need encouragement right now. You're sick. You're scared. You need hope, and to know that things will work out, in one way or another. That's why I'm writing to you now. It's nearing Christmas, and you're trying to keep your hopes up, but sometimes it's hard to be cheerful. And you know what? That's okay. You don't have to put on that brave face for everyone, to suffer in silence so that they suffer less. They love you, and they want you to confide in them. They know this is hard for you. I know this is hard for you. And I know

FallenHer body broke; her spirit shattered.

Sepulchre SolaceIt doesn't matter that I can't see your eyes, love.
I've already memorized the deep azure,
and if I stare deeply into the night sky above
I can find their hue, their shimmer in the twinkling starlight.

So it is of little matter that they remain closed
as I lie beside you on your bed of satin,
twisting my fingers through your long, dark hair.
It is longer than when I last saw you,
as you drew shallow, shaky breaths, and I drew you against me,
your frail form clutching with feeble strength
before they took you away.

They didn't want us together, love, you see.
So they hid you away from me, tried to tell me you were gone.
But I knew

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ExistenceYou haven't lived in years. You've been too busy just trying to stay alive.

RemnantWashed up a remnant,
a relic of abandoned epochs,
she inhales her first breath in an aeon.
Air thick with soot,
pungent with poison,
sinuous hands fly to her throat
as she sputters a curse
in a language long forgotten.
Beneath the slick surface of her murky realm
lost, she wandered on,
searched through centuries for a land
half-remembered in dreams.
Time and toxins took their toll
and when she arose from the depths
her scales shone bright with mercury,
glinting silver in the moonlight.
With trembling fingers
she combs starlight from her tresses,
brushes moonbeams from her curves,
counting lesions to her body,
carved by knowledge, knives
or nothing. She no longer knows.
She shivers in the shadow of
impossible structures,
their quivering reflections rippling
across the magic mirror
from which she surfaced.
In the dark their glass eyes gleam,
a thousand starry-eyed monstrosities,
rake their gaze across her form.
She clings to the shoreline,
jagged rocks and filthy sand.
Anothe

Cats are special in all ways.
They'll play with you for days and days.
One rule about owning a cat:
love them, love them:
that is that.

Today, I Am Still ThereToday the wind is warm
and carries scents that spark my memory.
Today, I am not here.
On a day much like this
I shattered my spirit;
splintered shards slid from my spine,
through shattered vertebrae,
and clung to cracks in walls,
then scattered on the wind.
Today I can feel those fragments,
I can smell it in the musty scent of books
that takes me back to the house made of paper and words.
Some fragment would remain there, I know,
even if not for the fall.
Today I smell roses,
I feel warmth against my skin,
and hear birds chirping hymns to the spring;
sometimes I can almost hear
footsteps on the deck,
and I wonder
if I even miss the sun.
Today, I am still there.
Today I can feel wind in my hair,
and if I close my eyes,
I can catch that fragment that still flies,
zipping past the sidewalks
on legs strong above the blades.
Today, I ride the wheels I long for.
I've always heard I was was an air spirit;
sound and scent my guides,
and to

...scattered on the windWe drive the path of thorns
through dark summer streets,
stagnant air shifted
by rolled down windows, speeding.

My head in his lap,
his eyes curious upon me,
I sing.

She, ahead of me,
notes drifting back,
entwine our rising voices.

Both their eyes upon my face,
and with soft, endearing notes,
seamless terms -
she gives me away...

to him.

Only The WildOut here, eyes are unnecessary.
This is what I say to the children
I've been asked to supervise
this dismal February week,
out here in the mountains -
the woodland -
the wild.
Out here you can feel the trees;
the sheer weight of their presence -
physical, tangible -
envelopes you like snow,
a shiver in the soul.
Biting wind wailing through the branches
raises the hairs on the back of your neck,
and you tremble
like saplings in a storm.
Rain and ice and something in-between
drip down from the leaves above.
You feel its caress against your flesh,
taste the kiss of the frozen forest
against your lips, face upturned to the
pine-bough sky.
You know it's there -
you can smell it:
deep and ancient and
heavy with pungent memory.
Pine isn't a variety
of air-freshener, children.
It is alive with the spirit of the earth.
Pine outlasts this brittle season
when all else cowers from the cold.
Evergreen stands proud
against battering wind,

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I am your present. Happy Valentine's Day!by =LadyofGaerdon

Community Projects / Holidays / 2013 / Be My Valentine

©2013 =LadyofGaerdon

For

Valentine's Day contest.

Also a Valentine's Day gift for my watchers. A picture of my adorable Jack, wearing his beloved bow tie, all wrapped up like a Valentine's Day gift. So much better than chocolate.

Captain Jack says: Bow Ties are cool.

~Charlie-Christine Feb 14, 2013 Traditional Artist

I love it! actually when I saw this, I thought this was my sisters cat! Our cat looks just like yours.

Reply

*TwinAgateDragons Feb 11, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Very cute! Love this!

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~NocturneJewel Feb 11, 2013

He's adorable! I love that bow tie!

Reply

*SadisticIceCream Feb 10, 2013 Writer

I now want to cuddle with your cat.

Reply

=LadyofGaerdon Feb 10, 2013 Professional Writer

Who wouldn't?

I'll cuddle with him for you.

Reply

*SadisticIceCream Feb 11, 2013 Writer

Reply

~Lillith8810 Feb 10, 2013 Hobbyist Photographer

Aw

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=LadyofGaerdon Feb 10, 2013 Professional Writer

Reply

*milenkadelic Feb 10, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

So sweet.

Reply

*PursuingTheCerberus Feb 10, 2013 Professional Writer

Jack is a handsome gentlemen, for sure!!!! LOVE IT!!

There is nothing like the companionship of a cat

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