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Grace Jan 19
You need to change
You know it's true
But it's beyond
What you can do

But don't give up
Though you've tried and failed
Because God can take
Your dragon scales
So i was thinking about Eustace from the Chronocles of Narnia and his whole situation and then I came up with this poem.
Hunter Green Dec 2018
I get so mad knowing you will never understand what I see.
You can’t see the pain,
the memories,
or the people who make up these images.

My mind works in such an otherworldly way,
I wish it wasn’t so far away.
I wish I could just share it with the world.
Even if the vulnerability hurt me, it’d be worth it to be less lonely.
All my thoughts could be appreciated,
and in their own light,
to the right people only.

I think in sentiment, so the clues of the portraits I create,
would communicate in clear secrecy, the truth they bear about me.
This unimaginable beauty,
that even I only see in glimpses,
would maybe a have a place,
could maybe be hung in a museum,
sold in an auction,
stolen for its value,
fought for to save.
It’s infinite.
the stream, the river, the trees, the forest,,,
the undetected particles in the air glowing in the ray of gold squeezed between the canopy from the sun,
the world of green and blue underneath the repetitive streaming and complicated designs that carry rainbow colored fish,
even just the emptiness of sound at the precipice before the greatest vastest canyons of our earth...
You can’t dare to frame a single one of these without spending every medium you can find.

And now I think I get it:
Art cannot contain the beauty we see and feel,
It is meant to be a ***** of a window to the inside of what's real.
Art borrows a pinch of the beauty to show the others a glimpse to awe at,
And if successful, that small ***** may bring one into the glory of it all someday.
The reason I'll never spend my life in a office, or feel satisfied in the suburbs.
ómra Oct 2018
Sometimes, in my dreams, a great lion comes to me. I climb onto his back and he takes me places that my feet have never touched, but through his eyes I see the world as I could have seen it.

He is strong and proud and silent, and his mighty paws leap through the air as though it were solid ground. Seated high upon his back, I see many things: herds of zebra racing through the savannah, massive elephants that shake the earth with ever step that they take.

When I look into his noble amber eyes, I see myself reflected back as how I should be:

He tells me, without using words, that I am the things that I see on my journeys with him. He tells me that I am an entire universe, one that cannot be confined by the hands of the man who thought that he could take from me everything that I thought that I was.

He tells me, through those smiling amber eyes, that I am mightier than even he. He shows me myself, and he is slowly teaching me how to break free of the cage of what has been done to me.

He was a circus lion, once- he lived and died in a cage, but now he runs through the sky above the great plains of Africa and even the world: he has taken me to glaciers higher than the sky, to forests so thick that we couldn’t see the bottom.

He is teaching me to run as he does, to be free of my cage as he became free of his. There is nothing, he tells me, that can cage you like an animal, because animals cannot be caged. We are only momentarily stopping in our great run- the moments spent within a cage come and go. The bars disintegrate and melt under the acidity of our tears, and we move on.

He comes to me in my dreams and takes me to places that my feet have never touched- not yet, but they will. One day I will sink my toes into the loose earth of the scorching savannah, and I will gaze into his eyes directly- I will bury my hands into the fur of his mane and I will truly fly, then;

I will be free of human men’s hands that close me in, of their sour breath and their roaming eyes, their screams and their tight grips. Their secret-keepings and their don’t-tells:

I will roar until my throat bleeds. I will roar and they will fear my might, just as he has taught me.
that is how to be a lion
Ophelia Dec 2017
the world
of course she didn't expect it to be small at all but it helps with the feeling of being able to breathe something other than London air and guilt
that's the strangest feeling in the end of all things and accompanies her like a dog during errands and hobbies and nights out curling in her lap in the dark of a too empty living room
you look so much like your mother
a generation can see a moment of a **** misplaced, a misstep in spring dances and the smell of grass and the feeling of white stone walls
dignitaries never expected a star to come from your brother's wife first
daughter of this not-eve never-eve
remember the ache in your own heart at your sister's cries
back arched like the curve of your bow
spine click and bones moving
organs
and another piece of the girl in old shoes by a lamppost spills out into their wardrobe world
you look nothing like your mother
not a queen but a body of two syllables heavy with teeth behind
red lips
she wears disappointment like lipstick and air and London fog
be magnificent
be just
be valiant
but gentle is only a slap in the face
and even God couldn't stop a war
a letter
a train
Damian Murphy Mar 2017
No wardrobe, no rabbit hole do I need
If it is to escape this world I look....
I just go to the library and read,
Where I can escape in a world of books.
Hannah Jane Call Apr 2016
I'm so sorry
that I wrecked your car
trying to find
where the wild things are

I'm so disappointed
that my closet has a back
instead of Narnia
just some cold weather tack

I'm so hurt
that Middle Earth can't be explored
and the rolling hills
don't have little round doors

I'm so stricken
with the painful ail
that my reality
can't be my fairytale

Why is it
that someone else
got to decide this for me
instead of myself?
Brady Friedkin Nov 2015
A boy born into royalty
Destined to rule over a great kingdom
But sent away by one with ill will for the kingdom
To be killed in a shipwreck
And leave a kingdom without their prince

But a lion pushed the boy in the wreckage to shore
Where a man stood wakeful at night
And took the boy in, giving him life
The man abused the boy in many ways
And the future ruler would leave to rule his kingdom

The boy had always wanted to go North
As if there were something good to the North
Something drawing him to the mountains and rivers
As he had northern blood flowing through his veins
So 'Onward and upward, to Narnia and the North!'

The boy fled his home on the back of a talking horse
Escaping the abusive nature of his supposed-father
To the north where he was meant to be, they fled
From the south the life he was fleeing from
His destined kingdom lying in this northern land to which he travelled

On horseback he rides in a forest
Before hearing the sounds of another horse
And then seeing the sights of another rider
Terrified the horse pulls forward
Then a wild animal gives its mighty roar

Hearing the roar of a mighty lion
The riders and horses go on running from this terror
Until they are united, together in their travels
Then the lion disappears into the mist of the forest
And the travelers, a boy and a girl, and two horses now travel to the north together

The boy stranded in the desert
Away from all things he had known
Without his horse or traveling companions
Without any water to quench his thirst
And he spends the night alone in the dark desert

There on the desert ground, terrified he laid
For behind him stood tombs of the kings of old
And to his forefront laid the desert
He imagined ghosts and ghouls that might come from the tombs
And terrified he laid, there on the desert ground

Then a kitten came to his side
The cat came und nuzzled behind the sleeping boy
It kept him warm through the cold desert night
The boy felt safe with the kitten by his side
As if no one or no thing could possibly harm him

As he slept, he heard the sound of jackals howling in the desert
The boy became fearful once he noticed the absence of the cat
Yet it was at this time that he heard the mighty roar of a lion
And the lions roar made him even more fearful than he was before
But then the howling of the jackals ceased and he was safe

He awoke again later in the night to the cat by his side
The cat comforted him in his loneliness
And kept him warm in the desert night
When it needed to, the cat became a lion and defended the boy
For the lion always wanted what was best for that boy

Then the four travelers ventured north across the desert
Racing against time, and against enemy armies
To get to the kingdom in the north on time to warn the king
But like any desert travelers, they quickly tired
And they required one final push

A lion's roar cams out of the silence of nature
And very quickly the horses sped up to leave the lion's reach
But to no avail as the lion gashed at one of the riders
The terror of the horses propelled them forward
And they made it in time to save the kingdom

The boy was reunited with his father, the king
And he himself became a king when it came high time
The boy married the girl, and became king and queen of the country in the north
For the Lion and the Kitten led them to the north, and to their salvation
Even when they did not know the Lion at all

The Lion is Jesus Christ, God Himself in the flesh
He came to save the boy, and his horse
And his wife and her horse
He came as a fierce lion to redirect
And as a kitten to comfort
He came as a lion to defend
And as a kitten to protect
Jesus Christ came to men
He came as a helpless fetus and infant
And as a small child
He came as a man to teach
And as a man to die
Jesus is fierce when needed
And gracious when needed
For He loves His children
And will not let His children stray far from Him
For much good is to come for the Children of God
This is a poem very based off of C.S. Lewis' Horse and His Boy, the third book (chronologically) in the Chronicles of Narnia
Slavica Apr 2015
Različite vizije
u istom spektru riječi
Gaslo ulično svjetlo
i ljupka narnijska lampa
Obasuti bijelim pahuljama
i zagrljeni crnilom noći
U pratnji borova
ili uličnog pločnika
S obzorom grada
ili netaknute prirode
Isti spektar riječi
Sličan spektar boja
Ali različite oči
Različito zrcale
Istih slova zvuk.
2014.
Alia Sinha Feb 2015
Another beloved strides out of my life.

Some smoker pauses
head bent over their cigarette
matchstick poised to flare and shimmy under
streetlight
but the waiting moment stretches
infinitely

With sweet shock I realise there is a breeze
playing around us both
made suddenly material
in the space/ the pause between
spark and fulfillment

Then can we wonder how things unseen
or only felt
become visible when
inconvenient

Yearning

for the moment

pressed somewhere into the weft of my childhood
Aslan smiling
-if lions can smile-
when three small British children find out
that they need never leave Narnia again.

— The End —