Theme

Display Mature Content

Suppress AI Content

literature

The Book of Changes

Deviation Actions

WinteroftheSoul

Published: Mar 20, 2017

116 Views

Literature Text

Yarrow
Stalks odd thoughts
To their limbic hidey-holes.

That’s weird?
Weirder:

The world and your mind move
(Without cause)
As one.

Mystical dark creatures 28.12.23 $4 31

aibondar

320

Buy Exclusive

More by WinteroftheSoul

Literature

Sunlight

Too much, too soon, the dawn doesn’t care. Every single pocket of clear air is heavy with rose, red, gold. I pull the covers angrily over my head. There’s no call to go waking folks this early Mr. Sun! Clearly, he disagrees. Can’t win. Okay. Groan, sit up, rub my eyes, look around my room. I can see the lights and shadows wrestle on the floor, rowdy cubs of the solar lion fighting, crouching, then springing in a muscular dance. 6:30? 7:00? Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Might as well get coffee. I have lost the war.

Recommended Literature

Literature

For Nice.

A strong Oak stands alone amid the hedgerow. Watching over this season's final yield of wheat. The last stage of the crop rotation. No more than a hardy grass, yet sufficient sustenance no less, for those that tend to the field. I note a ring of scarlet poppies circling the wheat. A blood-stain border, soaking the outer edges of the field. Speckled also, in amongst the crop, in that same sporadic pattern seen in blood splatter. A metaphor for the sacrifices made in ensuring that the village stays fed perhaps? Or perhaps, an aesthetic. Planted by the farm hand with little to no particular reasoning, other than just, well, for nice. The dog grows impatient, pulling at his lead as though to say that sometimes things just are, that I ought not to ponder on them for too long, lest I rob them of their inherent beauty. I scratch him behind the ears in agreeance. "good boy, lets get you home".

Literature

Paper Plane

I write my dreams on the wings of a paper plane And send it gliding from my window. Maybe someone will know To throw it again and continue this chain. I write my dreams on the wings of a paper plane. It's still flying, I saw it yesterday, It's now so far away And I don't know if my dreams are still the same. I write my dreams on the wings of a paper plane, And send it gliding from my window. The last one got destroyed by rain, But it's a sunny day tomorrow.

Literature

reflective

One minute you will stand watching prior moments drift past your fingertips on kite strings. You will think, I could not have known such things would fly away. You will think, I was happier tied to such fragments of time. You will think, My heart sang for lack of knowledge. My heart leapt for ignorance. Witness now--the mouth of a tunnel, think then on the other end. Close your eyes and fall backward, into the shoes of former selves, envying their blindness to this present. Linger. Then lean back into reality-- your future shouldn't need to wander forward alone.

Suggested Collections

Generally Awesome Prose

Literature

Trust Game

"All right, let's go swing," Nanna said. We'd been sitting at the park near my little sister Cindy's apartment, opening presents for her twenty-second birthday. "Oh my God, I wasn't actually serious about that!" I laughed, though I felt a wistful pang when I thought about those swings, which were rigged so high that they probably violated safety code somehow. I'd been in a wheelchair for four months following a rail platform accident, and although I was well on my way to recovering, attempting to swing, especially on that swingset, probably wouldn't have been the safest bet. "You a chicken?" she teased, smiling. "No, just don't want to bre

Literature

Taken in Turns

Green notches recessed into the dial's black face. No buttons or screens disrupted the control panel. One dial – the word 'Off' stood upward and green notches that escorted numbers peeled away down the circumference – just one dial and an instructional box, which proclaimed, 'Turn counter-clockwise.' Tith looked at Mel, his high brow questioned the inert device that consumed half the closet. Mel crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his tricep thoughtfully. It was never easy, he sighed, to understand the machine. Explanation took all of fifteen seconds, but understanding required time and focused thought. Mel cleared h

Literature

The Month of October

Hugh Everett's ashes are in the dumpster behind the restaurant I work at. I know because they start moving on Monday. By Tuesday, there is a writhing charred leg and parts of his open torso. Wednesday, he speaks to me for the first time. "What year is it?" "I think you might implode if you knew." "Makes sense. Do you smoke, doll?" I light a cigarette for him, having pulled it with quivering fingers from my apron, and put it in his mouth. He leans up against a garbage bag leaking shake mix and puffs, exhaling clouds. "This is weak. Lady cigarettes." He rips off the filter with his teeth. He only has three fingers on his left hand and hi

Prose and poetry

Literature

She's Not Gone Forever

Her soul's still here Her soul's not gone In the wings of the wind In the first gold of dawn In the joys you share Every break, every tear A frozen rose underfoot In your eyes, dark with soot No flood you pour out No feelings of strife Can extinguish the fire Passion in your life She may hide a while 'Neath the guise of a smile But just give her a taste - With her gifts you'll be graced.

Literature

Like A Leaf Come Away From The Tree

this loss it feels like a leaf come away from the tree which once held it safely securely bound by the promise of an age just one step away from eternity now to be borne away by wind without sound without the promise of a soft landing found

Literature

Watching Children

The old well behind the abandoned train depot was a gathering place for children; I sat and watched them, weekday evenings and weekend mornings, envying their ease of company. Their secret languages were a marvel to me, and I strained to hear as they screeched around mouthfuls of stolen candies, crouched over the gaping chasm into which they hurled the wrappers, sweaters hanging off their small backs like the shrouds of crows. Every so often, one or another would glance suspiciously over a thin shoulder, marking me as an unwelcome intruder, and the lively chatter would reduce to the comforting hum of inside voices used in the open air. The we

Poetry

Literature

Here

I witness arrivals arriving, as departures take their leave, here too brief to celebrate, gone too soon to grieve, traveling to ancient Egypt, of scorching golden sand, so that 'thorns come with roses', is a quote I understand, journeying to tropical jungles, where wild greens thrive, Inspiring to live this life, Truly acting alive, voyaging to arctic icebergs, that only show their shore, much alike a body, with a soul of so much more, jet leg is slightly skeptical, of a clocks display of time, is it AM or is it PM, when it points to number nine? nevertheless- of all these places, some far and some near, somehow I don't want anywhere, more than I want here.

Literature

This Is For Elderly Or Matured Couples

This is for those older couples whom haters call "old queers": lovers, who had been boyfriends first, and had endured the bad weather, or storms, of prejudices, hatreds, snide remarks and brutal jeers; but since their first love in barefoot adolescence, they have stayed together.

Literature

Made-Up Transgressions

Eaten churches Soul-altering fetishism Human meat filling clear pipes Artistic cultists corrupting the prime species False and catastrophic accusations You press the splinters of the suffering and creative deeper into Their flesh to use their screams for music and Their blood for shitty tattoos So, take those empty urns out of the closet and donate them to The minorities you want to fucking slaughter Pluck the hypocrisy from dicks and pussies The world you want is boring as hell Get used to living near rainbows, gothic nightclubs, And film festivals that feature directors from other countries Embracing diversity will make life so much more enjoyable Those stories are cutting your kids But if that happens, that means you Have a project to work on Great for you, but terrible for them

Written for: haijinik.deviantart.com/journa…

Thanks haijinik !

Comments0

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

DeviantArt - Homepage

DeviantArt Facebook DeviantArt Instagram DeviantArt Twitter

About Contact Core Membership DeviantArt Protect

Developers Advertise Terms of Service Etiquette

Careers Privacy Policy Copyright Policy Help and FAQ

Watch Team and join our Community Group for the latest updates and activities.

Join Community