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That is all they are
They cannot voice the deepest despair
Nor sing the greatest joy
They are an invention of man
A failed try to express ourselves
But then, a few simple utterances
Incorrectly used syllables
Just sounds in truth
In the simplest form
Evoking things that stay with us forever
Shaping who we are
TimeIt binds us in a schedule
Tells us when to sleep
When to eat
When to work
And when to play
Even sometimes, what to say
For some it passes to fast
For others, to slow
While some don’t even know
With nonstop ticking
It holds our lives
In its thrall
Tells the sun when to rise
And when to fall
Never backwards, always forwards
Moving on without a glance
For the past
Leaving us to reminisce
About the times of youthful bliss
FatherA little girl sits on a bike for the first time
With golden pigtails and tears in her eyes
She turns to her father and says, “I can’t”
Her father looks her in the eye and gravely replies, “I know you can,”
Before he lets go and watches her roll down the path
They kneel together in the garden
Both covered in dirt from head to toe
But neither seems to notice
His big hands gently guiding her little ones, covering tiny seeds with the fresh earth
As he teaches her their names and what they'll grow to be
The sunlight glints off slowly moving water
They stand next to the river, their fishing poles lying at their feet
She opens her mouth for the hundredth time, “I’m sorry I let go of the chain dad; I lost all those fish.”
But he doesn’t care, he’s too proud that she caught that giant fish
And he tells her so
As time passes by
The little girl starts to grow up
Starts to think that she doesn’t need him anymore
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More