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I Wonder About RainI often wonder about rain. As I sit and watch it fall, the great sheets of it that fell loudly, waking me mid morning. I sat on the couch in the kitchen, once again appreciating the excellent view it afforded me. It was a gray, quiet morning, the rain was no longer coming down in a deafening torrent, just drizzling slowly off the edge of the roof, sliding over the edge of our still as yet overwhelmed gutter and falling into small puddles at the edges of the concrete patio. The whole sky seems to be coated I the drizzle, it is gray and looks the very part of being sodden. The cotton wisp cI Wonder About Rain
by ~Frialuna
The Glass DancerWhat are you doing? Standing there, your delicate frame held proudly, but you aren’t what you look like, all grace and splendor. You’re fractured and battered, your sparkle comes from the hairline cracks beneath your glossy surface and from the tears you’ve kept inside. How dare you stand there, bold as brass but infinitely more fragile, how dare you pretend to be something you’re not? Your head’s upright and your muscles gently flex in your frozen movement, but a yet a tiny tap against any part of you will send you crumbling, shattering into a thousand shards. &The Glass Dancer
by ~Frialuna
PredawnI’ve never been an early riser. I enjoy too much the warm softness of sleep, punctuated by the occasional vivid fanciful vision. I take pleasure in the drowsy awakening, slowly drifting into reality, only reluctantly releasing the pageantry of my dreams. But this morning I woke early, and it was with even greater than normal reluctance that I levered my self from the fluid state of my dreams and bed, but eventually I made it to my desk, to work on something I had left too long undone. I reveled in the work, if truth be told, gingerly pulling apart a writers words to see what is bePredawn
by ~Frialuna
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Is it bad I find Oedipus amusing?
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Well, wouldn't you like to know.
- Interests: Music (playing my bassoon), writing, and other art forms including colorguard
- Favourite artist: You know some of these, no, most of these questions are too hard to answer
- Favourite poet or writer: another one I just have no idea how to answer
- Favourite photographer: Ansel Adams
- Tools of the Trade: whatever the hell I feel like
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All misspellings are on purpose. They represent the imperfection that pervades everything. Especially you.
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I sat down to write, wishing the words would come. Then they did, faster and harsher than any tears and suddenly, I found I wished they had not come at all.
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I sat down to write, wishing the words would come. Then they did, faster and harsher than any tears and suddenly, I found I wished they had not come at all.
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Signed
--Mr. Pseudonym
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