A wanderer's wings

Submitted by Kathleen on Sun, 01/16/2011 - 21:44

I fold my shameful wings

and pray that no one may see

what I hide.

 Dark stains taint the purity of what was.

  Wings hurl, averse to savage winds,

  which change wings to a form

  worn and aged by endless use.

  They do not return unscathed by storms;

   wet salt is thrown against what was dry.

  I mourn immaculate dove-white wings

  which have been altered to a wanderer's feathers,

  because I know their fate;


    to  be submerged yet again by torrents

    which rise against me.

Narcissa's Julian: Chapter One (Back to the Beginning)

Submitted by Anna on Mon, 10/04/2010 - 20:49

Chapter One: Back to the Beginning

Julian shivered in the darkling downpour that had cemented his hair to his forehead for the past two days. His tunic, once blue and gold, cleaved to his knees in tatters. All he could wish for that night was a dry place to lie down. Likely to die, he thought, his long eyelashes swiping at the rain in his eyes. Every story ends with—

Dark Cold Night

Submitted by Abbie on Wed, 04/29/2009 - 22:08

The sun has withdrawn its last warm rays,
leaving the earth to cool itself in the dark.
The ground relinquishes the warmth of the burning days,
as the air chills in the indigo dark.

A breath of wind ruffles my hair in passing,
pressing into my skin soft fingers of cold.
Greedily it snatches the warmth of my breathing,
giving in return a lungful of cold.

The silence seems to numb my cold ears,
no one else has ventured into the night.
I haven’t felt this alive in years,
Breathing and walking in the dark cold night.

The Great Pie Search

Submitted by Keri on Tue, 02/24/2009 - 18:13

I wanted to eat apple pie
The lack of it caused me to cry
I searched an I searched
And my heart gave a lurch
I wished I could find some of mine

The Baker’s son soon stole a pie
Not for you but for I
He flew through the vale
Until the crust had turned stale
For naught did he worthlessly fly

I ran into old Mother Hubbard
I asked her to look in her cupboard
There was none there for me
So I walked off to ask of my brother

A Wanderer's Life

Submitted by Kyleigh on Sat, 02/16/2008 - 05:44

A foot out the door,
A lingering glance,
A final farewell to all I know.

A pipe in my hand,
A cloak on my back,
A quick glance ‘round before I go.

Turn to face the sunrise,
Lifting my face to the morning beauty.
Stepping into the morning dew,
Setting out on an unknown path,
A melody flowing from my mind.

New places, new faces,
A silent nod to every stranger.
Leaving all I knew behind,
Setting out to rest at last,
Always hunting for an answer.