Our hands, once dirty and worn,
Spend too many minutes, still,
Eager to spike each with a thorn.
Blood barely connects our eyes.
Our words might be dull, but,
They come to settle like flies.
Age between our lives is little,
Yet it spreads a chasm, deep,
Our muscles turning too brittle.
Where should we look for our
Snare that ripped into our
Glare and crushed it everywhere?
One will snatch up the dagger,
One will seize the war hammer,
Our will, it shall subdue mountains
For one sinful second of pride
At the cost of the other's hide.
Her shoes are as orange as laughter
With flowers tucked, folded, set
Into the left curve of her jeans.
Her smiles hush to whispers
And are healthier than greens.
Her ankles curve into a step that
Moves forward as her eyes watch
The meadow of color in between.
Her ideas float into words
And carry a bright, loving sheen.
Her laces are as white as clouds
But carry the dirt and debris
Of the storms that have convened.
Her fingers paint in water
And try to find the love gleaned
From the tall flowering trees,
and the warm uplifting breeze.
The fog rolls steadily in,
Blankets the tree’s lost kin.
Dust hangs from each bough
And drips from the bark’s brow.
Birds glide through the vapor thick
And jump like flame to wick.
When nothing can be seen,
Something new appears,
Air from far and between.
The frost rimes the greyer beard,
Like rust attacking the greater steel.
Their crimson pride was long smeared,
Like the lost heir’s begrudged appeal.
Ice flows between head and hair,
Like a river through an old town.
All four legs leap past a snare,
Like an eager prince for the crown.
A snowflake between each finger,
Like she caught the tail of a breeze.
Its whispers still try to linger,
Like warm soil before the first freeze.
Our hands, once dirty and worn,
Spend too many minutes, still,
Eager to spike each with a thorn.
Blood barely connects our eyes.
Our words might be dull, but,
They come to settle like flies.
Age between our lives is little,
Yet it spreads a chasm, deep,
Our muscles turning too brittle.
Where should we look for our
Snare that ripped into our
Glare and crushed it everywhere?
One will snatch up the dagger,
One will seize the war hammer,
Our will, it shall subdue mountains
For one sinful second of pride
At the cost of the other's hide.
Her shoes are as orange as laughter
With flowers tucked, folded, set
Into the left curve of her jeans.
Her smiles hush to whispers
And are healthier than greens.
Her ankles curve into a step that
Moves forward as her eyes watch
The meadow of color in between.
Her ideas float into words
And carry a bright, loving sheen.
Her laces are as white as clouds
But carry the dirt and debris
Of the storms that have convened.
Her fingers paint in water
And try to find the love gleaned
From the tall flowering trees,
and the warm uplifting breeze.
The fog rolls steadily in,
Blankets the tree’s lost kin.
Dust hangs from each bough
And drips from the bark’s brow.
Birds glide through the vapor thick
And jump like flame to wick.
When nothing can be seen,
Something new appears,
Air from far and between.
The frost rimes the greyer beard,
Like rust attacking the greater steel.
Their crimson pride was long smeared,
Like the lost heir’s begrudged appeal.
Ice flows between head and hair,
Like a river through an old town.
All four legs leap past a snare,
Like an eager prince for the crown.
A snowflake between each finger,
Like she caught the tail of a breeze.
Its whispers still try to linger,
Like warm soil before the first freeze.
I’ve been writing for many years and have always found a peaceful, exciting place within books and my own stories. I created this account (I’m a 6-year deviant!) to differentiate between my visual art, which is purely for hobby, and my pen name, Shelby Firestone.
I’m a student at a nice university in Michigan’s windy lands, studying English and Anthropology.
For my visual art, wander over to my “main” account, nohlja :thumb353635171::thumb318444565:
I used my precious photo that features my gorgeous sister to make a new avatar I finally like! The funny part is that I only used the chalk star... Shhhhhh...
My avatar is so horrid... I must make a new one ;-; I have pretty markers now, surely there has to be something I can doodle for a little 50x50px square!
Also, baby raccoons are adorable (even if they steal your cat food, but then I should say lazy cats! I kid, I love cats) and I have been craving tiramisu. I have lady fingers but my kitchen is too tiny :ohnoes: At least there's cheesecake and raspberry sorbet and strawberries and nutella with wheat bread and tamales and cream-cheese-crockpot-chicken. I rather like food :meow:
And yes, I did make this journal just for fun and because I haven't made one over here yet >///< There's geology to