Travels in the Gray Land by Acaciathorn, literature
Literature
Travels in the Gray Land
Once, wise men said the Earth was flat,
Now they say a sphere
But I the traveler have seen
A world arranged in tiers.
It’s three steps up and three steps down
With nothing in between
Each step a realm unto itself
One black, one gray, one green.
The uppermost, the sunlit land
Is lush with verdant choir
Babbling brooks and rustling reeds
Birdsongs in the briar.
Down below, the Black Land sleeps
Silent and austere
Into this reverent quietude
All must disappear.
The middle tier, a hidden plane,
Of neither sun nor shade
A misty, lonely everscape
Where those like me have strayed.
The Gray Land has no native souls
All wanderers are we
Dur
I've met a boy
between the pages of a book
where the last true people live
their lives
marked as
delusions and lies
I've met a boy there
in a land of thoughts and pains
he carried his soul
ghostly and gray
embraced by flesh of ink and blood
a spirit in a cage of black and red
painted by silvered ash
and iron-steel
I've met a boy made of parchment
and stabbing pain behind my eyes
and somehow he is dear to me
like a jewel in my
collection of fantasy
though I know
many call him cruel
evil and rude
no morals, no noble law
never hero
far from it
a vow breaker
dirty killer
tricky cheater
and a heart without a soul
but I also see raw clear honest
Siamese cat from the land of the Thai
Born white as snow with brown indication,
I shall love you until the day you die,
More than a mere pet in subjugation.
In age black and brown overtake whiteness
And sometimes upon the lap you do rise.
Under mistreatment you bite and you hiss,
And in the sunlight, photosynthesize.
I love cold kisses from your button nose
Though you sometimes struggle to flee my hugs.
I further love how you on my bed doze
And make mincemeat out of roaches and bugs.
O frisky feline of ancient Siam,
Sometimes fitful, but gentle as a lamb.
Her favorite roses only bloomed in the spring.
When white gave way to green, birds resumed song,
And insects took their place at night once more,
He went to the meadow where they grew.
They had been her favorite flower since
Her mother picked one for her on her fourth birthday.
On their wedding day, he made her a necklace of petals
That she didn't take off until after their honeymoon.
Even when her spirits were low and she struggled to smile,
The sight of him holding a bouquet of roses made her day.
That's why they were her birthday present every year;
He felt a little cheap getting the same thing each time,
But she never protes
They loved their garden;
Mother and Daughter would spend
Hours in the sun.
Behind their house was
Green dotted with red, yellow,
Pink and countless more.
Mother loved roses;
Daughter preferred irises.
They planted with care.
They watched the sun rise
While blowing dandelions,
And mimicked at dusk.
Their birdbaths brought in
Winged visitors who were
Greeted with bird seed.
All meals were eaten
On a polka-dot blanket;
Nothing but home-cooked.
Catching butterflies,
Looking for funny-shaped clouds,
Climbing the oak tree.
They ran, danced and sang,
Never tiring of their
Love for each other.
Daughter did not think
That her
The Peace It Brings by OneWithTheStars, literature
Literature
The Peace It Brings
Cassidy took a deep breath as the autumn air stirred about her, teasing locks of her curly auburn hair to dance about her emerald eyes. The crisp edge had begun to settle in, though it was still warm enough to wear just a light jacket. She paused in her walk along the lane through the woods, listening to the rustle of the leaves as they rushed by her feet, exuberant children in a joyful game of tag and in no hurry to return home.
The forests of New England were transforming as winter called to the land, seducing it from summer, rich greens giving way for the spectacular beauty as nature changed her gown, donning the fire of autumn
Death Dews The Dandelion by DragonEthrealth, literature
Literature
Death Dews The Dandelion
Death dews the dandelion,
And quickly it withers away.
Never shall it return
Back to how it was that day.
A woman sheds a tear,
As this happens once again.
And she is quickly reminded,
Of how it had happened back then.
The sun emerged from within the earth,
And swayed in the soft gentle breeze,
In a lonely field of grass,
Where there weren't even any trees.
It's land quickly filled,
As it blossomed and grew,
And the sky made donations,
That flowed the land with blue.
Soon it was plucked,
And traveled place to place,
Searching for someone
That it could show it's true face.
Soon it had found somewhere,
And met with another,
In a field whe
It rained yesterday.
It rained and it washed all the mud down our street.
I went in the garden, my shoes got all wet.
Darn summer showers that smell of soaked earth.
I went in the garden, I set down my fruit basket,
And started to dig.
Until I found strawberries, crushed by the foul phlegm of sand grains and
Dead leaves.
My hands still felt cold when I washed them with hot, steamy water
From under the tap. I closed it, and ran
Ran down the porous cement stairs that stung my bare feet,
To the beat of a popular tune our neighbor Jerry played,
To my friend's house.
My friend used to stick strawberries to the tips of her fingers and
Eat them off,