They Called Her Alivia

Alivia, white earth sorceress of only twelve summers, embarks on a journey to regain her kingdom, avenge her parents, while locating twelve talismans Lord Guthrie needs to release the destroyer Aba…

Source: They Called Her Alivia

Forbidden Love

He stood upon the cliffs awaiting the sunrise
Watching as the last of the moon descended
Anticipating the light meeting the sea
Listening to the waves kissing the shore.

As the tips of light began to reflect
He saw her on the rocks below
Sable hair embracing her shoulders
Skin so pale against the sea washed rocks

He watched as she finger combed her tresses
Humming softly to the morn
A siren song to warm and greet him
Watching, yearning, wanting more.

She must have felt his eyes upon her
Green met fawn linking sea and sky
Caressing, calling, passions rising
Heart beats crashing with the tides

Both knew magic in their souls
Part man, part hawk he spread his wings
On gentle currents down he drifted,
Softly landing on the shore.

But soul mates they could never be
For she was not his kind
Through eyes that glistened with briny tears
She bidden him good life and goodbye

For her world was not of air and sun
Her world was wet and blue
She donned her skin and swam away
As selkie maidens do.

Cloak and Dagger

Creeping in, it caught me unaware

In the dead of night, where dreams slither

With stealth it creeps like smoky vapor

My spirit cries out in apprehension.

 

It wore a cloak and dagger,

Which dripped words undeclared

Empty parchment waiting

To be soaked with poignant imagery.

 

The cloak, but a shroud to hide behind

The dagger, a trusty friend

An extension of unconscious contemplation

Oozing thoughts, torn from heart to pen.

 

I am but a victim of resourceful temperament

Lost souls with untold stories clamoring for release

Mysteries yet unraveled, murders to be solved

Lingering shadows, bound by cloak and dagger.

The Circle Resumes

Sentries of the night stand guard in perfect formation
Across the stretch of wire, like clothespins on a line
While speckled flocks of grackle stain the landscape
Spots of black against a field of brown.

As if on cue, they choreographic their flight
Up and down, like waves at low tide
Just a ripple before they settle
Bobbing to a minuet as old as time.

Chatter of excitement as they discuss the day’s events
Children too excited to sleep, too restless to stay still
Something moves, and the sentries cry out a warning,
Taking flight, the sea bursts forth into the sky

Absorbing the last strands of light
They take flight across the shallow riverbed.
Reflections of black specks against the setting rays of sun
Up towards the back wash of brilliant pinks and yellows

Shards of cerulean attempting to hold back the sapphire night
A finger-painting of bleeding hues
Streaked across a mat from a single orange focal point.
A stroke of madness in a painting of harmony.

Night’s orchestra tunes up for tomorrows concert
They return at dawn to greet the day
Renewing once again the sonnet of the night
And the circle resumes.

*Photo from Clip art by Microsoft

The Color of Eons

 

In the vastest of the eastern landscape,

A ball of orange rises

Bathing sands of time in its brilliant hue.

 

Where Egyptian pharaohs

With their ladies danced

Building monuments that far outlived them.

 

Camels walk, where brave men venture

Religions as old as the ground they tread

Shifting sands with unaltered beliefs.

 

Time rolls across the dunes

Altering life and destinations

Buried stories, deep beneath its crust.

 

Day Dreams and Magic

Day Dreams and Magic.

Day Dreams and Magic

 

I laid upon the grass one day
And dreamed of places far away
Of palace gates and carpet rides
Of dragon scales and moonbeam slides

Where butterflies were spun of gold
And Unicorns with fairies told
The tales of selkies and magic wands
Where rainbows dipped to drink from ponds

I rode the clouds amongst the trees
Catching rides on wings of bee’s
I danced a jig in clovers four
With elves and sprites from times of yore

I followed bunnies to their dens
Chased fireflies to earth again
To proudly stand on hollow ground
Where knights in armor once abound

Then back to sky I flew on leaves
That carried songs upon my sleeves
Back to the field where I reposed
To end my dream as daylight closed

 

Posted by Lena at 3/15/2011 07:49:00 PM

Battlefields of Discontented Dreams

Another year has marched out of my life.

A crusading warrior making his way back home,

Leaving bloody battlefields in his wake.

Trampled valleys where dreams once stood.

 

In the beginning, the year tiptoed in,

Softly sprinkling crystallized wishes.

Ideas, floating like a fine dusting of snow,

Forming a light covering on my bed of anticipation.

 

In swept the Ides of Spring laden with promises.

Storms tossing my wants in a turbulent sea of needs.

I planted my seeds with the expectancy of progression,

Hoping to find nourishment for my battered soul.

 

Summer scorched a path through my life

Bringing passion and potential to my fertile soil

Growing, thriving, reaching for the budding of fulfillment

Hopes alive, green and fresh, standing tall against adversity.

 

Autumn flew in on the winds of a changeling,

Taking the abundance and leaving a barren field.

Stripped of optimism, I wander in the fields of despair,

Wondering where my footpath led me astray.

 

Yes wicked winter with your freezing rains.

You beat against me, leaving blisters in your wake.

But Spring will return, of this I am certain,

Bringing with it the possibilities of contentment.

Different Strokes of Colors

I knew a girl with polka dots

I saw her every day

Who could like a girl with spots?

I wish she’d go away.

Everyone like’s stripes you see

My group wore blue and green

We ruled the school with colors bold

All other colors are obscene.

We taunted dots and made her cry

Poked fun at her yellow and purple marks

Other kids joined in our fun

A prank, a laugh, a bit of lark.

Then one day her colors changed

The spots were gray and black

She hung her head when she left the school

She never did come back.

One day I asked a teacher where

The girl with dots had gone

She shook her head, looking at the class

She told us she had withdrawn.

Seems she had left the school one day

She walked along the riverbank

With backpack loaded with some rocks

She walked into the water and sank.

She left a note about how sad she was

That she just didn’t seem to fit

My friends and I just hung our heads

The blame was ours, I must admit.

Each day I walk along those shores

Each year I place a spotted wreath

For a different girl who had her place

Who didn’t deserve the grief.

Hard Life, Well Spent

Cowboys herdin’ cattle cross dusty trails

Sandy hooves paint ground fog in their wake

Shuffling along swattin’ flies off molty hides

Riders amble aside keeping eye on their stake

 

Chuck wagon camps, setting up by a creek

Beans and pan bread cookin’ over hot stones

Coffee’s meandering aroma penetrates the air

Greeting men carrying saddles over tired bones

 

Ranch hands scout the waters nearby

Look to the sky to judge the night

Storms a comin’ as night encroaches

Coyotes restless, cries rent last light

 

Cattle dogs alert to changes

Nip the heels of stragglin’ calves

Cowhand slaps his rope while coaxing

Blistered hands and lips in need of salves

 

Cowhands sing to calm their charges

Bedrolls gathered near the fire

Dreaming of a trail once taken

And of their loves as they retire