|Auran comic has kinda-sorta-officially begun! Updates will be haphazard, based on my schedule. Many apologies for that.|
Ode to a ThunderstormAngels bowlingOde to a Thunderstorm by Skyleap
I always liked that idea
As if Heaven were some giant bowling alley
As if, above the dark clouds,
Lane upon lane of elegant wood stretched
Out into nothingness
And people dressed in white and swan’s wings
Wandered and bowled,
As if their dreams never contained anything else.
I could hear it, some nights,
The growling in the sky
A peaceful, lengthy rumble fading into the distance
It is then that I remember:
A bowling alley, a birthday party,
Where I first noticed and talked with
We mimicked the simple Heaven of a child’s mind
Gentle rolling thunderstorms
But there is no sweet metaphor
To name the other kind of thunder
That sets my heart racing
Or not at all
That strikes at the same time
As the sound of the air splitting apart
A display of raw power
An abandoned campout, running in the dark
Back to safety, fleeing from the war in Heaven
With that same friend
For a moment we both s
tWR Critiques You! with SkyleapTo learn more about tWR Critiques You!, check out the first blog entry of the project HERE.
Previous articles in the series:
tWR Critiques nightshade-keybladetWR Critiques SolleniustWR Critiques ColinSydneytWR Critiques 520romeo + lychalistWR Critiques Momo-ValentinetWR Critiques FragmenteDreamstWR Critiques unenglishabletWR Critiques saevuswindstWR Critiques amrgalal7tWR Critiques missjenrose
Silent WitnessSilent Witness
He saw nothing.
He heard nothing.
He tasted nothing.
He smelt nothing.
He felt nothing.
He knew something.
He imagined something.
He said nothing.
He acknowledged something.
He wrote nothing.
He witnessed everything.
He committed everything.
Heart like a Seed Once upon a time there was a girl who when she was young would run about her yard, with wild locks of golden hair on her back, and mud on her feet. She would turn up stones and hold pill bugs in her palm with precious care. She would guide spiders onto her finger, then place them out of harms way. And on summer's days when the air was thick and warm like honey, she would prance around the yard in chase of moths with paper white wings, and hold them in the cave of her tiny hands so she could peer through the cracks of her fingers at the delicate creature. Then let them go with hands dramatically raised to the sun.
Behind the home of this girl was a brook; the tiniest of gurgling streams, whose shallow depths held wondrous gifts to the girl. Its banks were bright with the glow of golden buttercups where the frogs would burrow amongst the lush stems. Only to be disturbed by the sound of the girls feet picking their way across the cool, damp ground. She would sp
House of a Broken EggThe gentlest song I know
is the one about a broken egg.
The one that goes,
sat on a wall
had a great fall…
And all the king’s horses and all the king’s men
couldn’t put Humpty back together again.
It was an accident wasn’t it?
Just a sheer and mistaken lapse
in judgment, his foot
slipping just a few centimeters too wide, his arms
an inch away from righting himself
and, what I love most about this song,
is how simple a tragedy,
how senseless an accident can be.
I don’t need to know anything.
Not the names, not the place,
nor the time, manner in which he’s fallen,
et cetera. It
was just an accident, one
in which he does not recover, ever.
The gentlest song I know
is this one, because
of how aware it is
of the senseless and silent
nature of the world.
How easily something breaks,
how hard it is to mend,
and how sometimes, just sometimes,
we cannot avoid being hurt
and broken because of it.
Do You Fancy a Bit of Paradox?
Do you fancy a bit of paradox? Why then, look here. For though all paths are before you, but one can you take. For all things you can be, only one you can become. For all the choices you have, almost all are without your grasp. It is my fancy, my cruel gambit. My one rule, as you play my game. You can have everything, but yet, only one thing.
Say not that I am cruel, for I have rolled the dice, and lent my advice. It would be easiest, you see, for you to go here, see this, and do that. To jump here, this high, and fall here. I have stretched down across conception, down to caress your life with my strange, numbered limbs, and how they come to rest dictates the path you should tread. But that is no game, no game at all! A fancy of chance, a flick of the wrist, from start to finish! No, that is just the setting.
The game, my friend, is simple. Step closer, and listen, for though I tell every man, every woman, I only ever say this once, and it is easily forgotten in the petit mal of conce
The Writer's PrayerPlease let my words flow,
and only love from them grow.
Let not bad, hurtful things spring
from my soundless offering.
Too many have I hurt with my words,
too many have left me when they heard
the sharp sting of my pen.
Please, dont let that happen again.
Let my words flow without venom,
let them nurture the blossom
Let my words fly with the dove,
and never again hurt those I love.
With this prayer I solemnly swear
to never hurt those for whom I care.
This is my will, so mote it be.
The Immortal soulSo as some of you might have already guessed this journal entry is kind of about religion. Why, you ask. Well some reasons: I think it's a pretty interesting subject and I was entirely done with seeing that horrible chain letter in my last journal entry. So that's why.
I'm not religious myself but I think it's a very interesting subject.
The bible speaks of this thing called 'The Immortal Soul' , you know, that weird unphysical thing somewhere inside you that you should never trade for a wish otherwise you're doomed.
First thing any atheist will say about souls is that they do not exist. Because as many of you might know, science proves that a humans personality isn't some floaty, luminescent ball of magic but a (very physical) piece of the brain located right behind a humans forehead. The part of the brain that contains your personality, free will, ability to make choices, consciousness and those kind of useful things.
But obviously this cannot be a humans soul because the rel
Words like wingsI caught a bird, the other day. Opened my window, leaned out, and there it was, right in front of me. Almost like it wanted to be grabbed. Strange little thing, all bones and breath and that frightened heartbeat thudding against my fingers - and warm, warm as blood.
I cradled it in my hands and, fingers cupped tight around it, pulled my arms back in and tugged the window closed with my elbow. Not locked, mind you - just closed enough it wouldn't fly away the moment I let it go. Not before I'd had a chance to look at it, anyway.
I sat down, back against the wall. Opened my hands.
The bird stood there, balanced on the platform of my overlapping palms, tilted its head on one side and looked at me.
I looked back. It was a strange kind of a bird, all told - unblinking little black eyes, red-tipped claws, and feathers that, once I looked closer, looked more than a little odd.
It tilted its head to the other side, eye fixed on my face. Hopped closer on my palms. Spread its wings
Too excited to come up with a titleLike a dream...
Can you believe it?
Everything that we've aimed for
Is now in front of us...
Everything we ever dreamed of
Is now going to come true!
Like a dream...
Can I believe it?
Oh I just hope I won't wake up
Because this seems so real
Oh I just hope I can fulfill my destiny
Because the time to dream is over.
Now is the time to live.
English 101: A Grammar SeriesOriginally a result of: Complaint Challenge and Complaint Overkill
My English 101 series is for basic things in the English language that any writer should know, regardless of their native language. (For those of you who don't know how university courses are often numbered, 101 is often used to mark the basic course in any subject. These are the English basics.)
I do apologize that this was originally intended to be a project for the year 2012, and... well, now it's 2014 and I've only posted one. And 2015 has arrived. I have several drafts laid out, but they aren't written well enough to post and expect everyone to understand regardless of what level a writer or how native a speaker, which was the idea behind this series.
The current series plan is laid out below, and I will be sticking to it unless I find that one topic needs more than I can write in a single grammar guide. In that case, I may split it in t