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forestfaith Jun 28
with a million rounds,
the train, like a tongue,
rolls out of the mouth

like people,
and onto the ground it crashed.
a massive hug to the
***** concrete heart

and the last carriage
made a pact with the air as it
landed halfway, mid-air,

with strings attached to its
wheels,
halfway-unhinged,
an origami left

with its ancient creases,
and it is desperate to
wage war upon

noises and things and
pans and iron axes,
and bang, and screech, and

****
****
****.

beckoning you into the wheel,
with strings clawed into the
skin, like silver

linings meant for you
but we twist it around our finger
all to hard,

it hugged around too tight
and we are shredded paper,
too many wrinkles and creases

and tear-stains
on your
whatever paper.

we then, twist, oh we twist,
twist others into a slow,
uncertain dance ritual.

and i dont know what to say,
to think to say,
to tie my words to those strings

and throw it out into
the open air, dangling like a
wheel, another
form of a

roulette wheel,
and then what?
let it dance?
see if it falls and hugs

and then breaks,
or then, it breaks

them.
idk what this is about but hey!! im back! i think its human foolishness? or its just my conscious trying to say smth? idk.
annh May 19
'Actually, my friend in Taranaki makes the stars. I combine them with my own elements and string them into garlands,' wrote Makery. There was an element of apology about her words. As if she’d been rumbled. As if someone had confirmed the voice of self-doubt that whispered in her ear, 'Who do you think you are, calling yourself an artisan?'

Stringing things together is applied artistry - whether it be words, Scandi-style stars, or fairytale mushrooms threaded on candy coloured twine. We are all hunter-gatherers who construct our creations from discovered elements. Some transmute received knowledge into constructed knowledge. Others beachcomb lexica for found syncretic treasures. All aspire to contribute to the infinite compendium of human self-expression, to create something which says, 'This is who I am.' With the silent addendum, 'I hope you like it.'

'Creating is living doubly. The groping, anxious quest of a Proust, his meticulous collecting of flowers, of wallpapers, and of anxieties, signifies nothing else.'
- Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays
old willow May 7
Swift was dusk, reminding people how time flies by quickly before one realized.
Their world was separated,
two boundaries that could never met,
as was fated by heaven itself.

Slip from the crack of the boundary,
The two illusionary figures collide.
Stretching across the land,
White flakes cover every nook and cranny,
Their figures were like two magnets attracted toward one another.

She knew of his name that was covered in blood.
He had walked a path filled with corpses,
the murderer who slaughtered millions with his sword.
Looking at him from a distance, she laughed.
Nothing was needed to be said,
for words were meaningless to the both of them than the look they gave to each other.

The country is broken, though hills and rivers remain,
In the city in spring, the grass and trees are thick.
Chaos, like oil mixing with water, order is not to be anchored.
Enemy, are many;
Peace is few.
In this world, my enemy is numerous as clouds,
Are you willing to accompany my path?

Her smile was the blooming spring that would be coming.
Somehow, she had always believed in him.
He would never fail her.
If he walked the path filled with obstacles, then she would accompany him!

Alone in the northern lands,
The two of them burrow their feet in the earth,
Hands held gently against one another as they faced each other.
A tranquil solemnity befalls on the place,
as all of nature was to witness the soon unity of the couple,
Far from the turmoil of the world.

First, Prayer to the heaven and earth present to witness their love.
As if signifying their presence,
The earth shook, the clouds cleared.
Their heads held high, and their gaze locked onto each other.

A bow to Heaven and Earth,
This bow is as surreal as a dream.
First thanking Heaven for bestowing conformity upon the two of us,
Allowing me to meet you among billions of people,
Till white-haired yet never parted.

A bow to Heaven and Earth,
Kneeling love and hate into dust,
Before kowtowing the earth, permitting a place of quietude for the both of us.
let us imagine the world hatred as congratulatory,
In the end, neither of us owning the other anything,
This life, this moment,
There are only the twos of us.

And the final bow to Heaven and Earth,
the last to represent that they would stick through thick and thin,
a bow to each other,
Immemorial promises to remind each other that they are one yet not, alone yet together.
Their conviviality was sent as a prayer to Heaven and Earth,
coveting their thoughts for peace,
And may it last forever more, under the eternal heaven.

If not this life,
In the next life,
May we meet again.
Anastasia Apr 17
Taffeta watches the pigs atop the tables
Glass eyes and stitches where they're enabled
Guts pumping crimson liquid
Sewing 'em up, she's addicted
Family and friends recommend she withdraw
She responded with a twinkle in her eye and a dropped jaw
Scissors and string, that's all she'll need
Besides a corpse, of course, and a bit of stuffing
Lilac eyes affixed on a tattered pillow
Enjoying watching a weeping Willow
Her poor Porky pet has met his end
But everyone knows you can depend
Before your sweet pet starts to smell
On Taffeta's Taxidermy to stuff 'em well
Inspired by a randomly generated word prompt, which brought my mind to a song by Teddy Hyde, Terry's Taxidermy.
Amaranthine Apr 7
You were that string of my guitar
Which ringed & resonated all my chords, chimed them perfectly.....

When you broke away .....
I tried to wind you up again.....
But I couldn't
You were that string of my guitar
Which had tightest hold and kissed all my chords perfectly......

When you shattered away......
I tried to replace you with another....
But I couldn't
You were that string of my guitar
Which hooked it up in your chain and took away all chains perfectly.......

When you fell away .....
I tried to throw my guitar with you....
But I couldn't
You were that string of my guitar
The only and the perfect one
The perfectly perfect one
Jay M Feb 13
For the first time
After a dizzying climb
I have my first Valentine

It’s strange;
After dreaming of having it
I almost quit
But my heart found a way
To say
I’m not alone
I can pick up the phone
And call
Mr. Know-it-all
My love

I’m happy
Instead of my usual bummed and ******
This may sound sappy
But I’m in love
And it’s freeing, like a dove

That red string that everyone keeps talking about
I think I’ve got it - no doubt
Tied to my finger
Oh this topic I could linger
The other end tied to him
Pulling on his limb;
My love, Adam.

- Jay M
February 13th, 2020
We're celebrating it today, since tomorrow I'll be off going to Winter Camp. He wanted to surprise me tomorrow, before I go for camp, but he gets out of school by the time I'm on my way to camp.
Dani Jan 17
Give me a pair of scissors
Something sharp
Let it cut deep into my skin
Making my heart bleed
The strings are a tangled mess
Everything is ruined
The puppet master holds me up
But I cannot move freely
I am bound to old strings
Worn strings
I want to cut myself free
If I do...
Would there be anything left for me?
I feel the blade in my hand
The match in the other
Am I burning bridges?
Or trying to make a garden bloom?
Give me a pair of scissors
What I cut away will allow me to grow
What I cut away will allow me to move
What I cut away will allow me freedom
Sylph Nov 2019
A blanket of light
warms me
As i glide through the waters
with my selkie friends at my side
darting through the water
and teasing me for letting my thoughts get the best of me
I remember

He saw me
His eyes the color of the forest
His hair the color of fire
We fell for each other
And the string on our finger pulled us like magnets into each others arms

We spent so long together
And i loved him
More than life
I loved our daughter
More than my sea

But the pull
It tugged at my heart
At my mind
my skin
My soul
I couldnt resist its call
i tried
and tried for years

but i couldnt fight a match that had
never been possible for me to win in the first place
I couldnt fight my home
My very being
The beholder of my soul

I know they will forgive me one day
Our tight knot can not undone

Not even when
                                  Fate cuts my string
This is based off some selkie myths and legends
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