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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
April 19, 2013
Witch Oil by *PrussianPersephone Suggester Writes: Brimming with stunning imagery and imagination.
Featured by BeccaJS
Suggested by forestmeetwildfire
Literature Text
There's magma boiling in her frostbitten veins;
incandescent pixie dust and
soot-stained stars,
sluggishly making its way through
a childish heart — wishing for one last chance
to spread her wings and soar to
Neverland.
incandescent pixie dust and
soot-stained stars,
sluggishly making its way through
a childish heart — wishing for one last chance
to spread her wings and soar to
Neverland.
Literature
amphitrite II
if my lip will still be split when the austral summer starts,
and, all wrapped in rising sun, we're coccooning,
if we're throwing all the good things into a bucket of riverness
(and lawn flowers),
will we want to wake up?
I know I'll want to pour
my slice of eternity into a bottle of coconut essence,
make my foreverafter sweet and tropical,
and if your hands are balsam I can
carve my song in stone,
and I will never die.
But don't you ask yourself
why paper boats always sink, in the end?
I don't think I care.
I think they just sail off to a land without horizon
deep in the underwater of the bathtub.
You'll know when, and
you'll hear me sing
Literature
moondust.
we live in a world where our lungs are black and outlined with angry streaks of red. we plant diseases and destruction in the holes of our stomachs and watch them grow they shoot up fast and clog up our throats with ashy leaves.
our fingernails are ripped, jagged edges digging into pale skin and leaving white hot lines in their wake. our wings are crumpled, feathers bent and pressing into the expanse of our backs they're the weights on our shoulders, and there's no space left for anything else.
your tongue is cracked and so is mine. words no longer form, sounds no longer rise. dreams and wishes fall into the cracks as nig
Literature
Eurydice
His voice enveloped me, and I became
Myself again--I heard it in the song:
A mordent on a note he held too long;
A stutter in his voice. I heard my name
In these and felt a happiness the same
As when I saw him first. Oh, I had longed
To hear him sing again, but this last song--
It was so beautiful. And it remains
The best of human works, though none shall hear
Its sorrowed notes; the lyre's meand'ring tune
Through vast arpeggios and Death's expanse
Except the dead. It will not disappear
'Till all the world's destroyed, and hell's exhumed--
Such music must be worth a backwards glance.
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The term 'witch oil' comes from His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. It's a phrase the Gyptians use to describe Lyra. If you've read them, you may understand why I used it. And then you'll understand this. If you haven't read them, well...here's a little hint: adolescence and adulthood fight against one another most of the series. In this poem...I'll just say the same sort of thing is happening.
Random burst of poetry is random.
Random burst of poetry is random.
© 2013 - 2024 lupus-astra
Comments89
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Oh you deserved the recognition love. Short but well written as it touches somewhere in the heart of all of Us - Well done.