Here Comes the Rain by swallowinghearts, literature
Literature
Here Comes the Rain
I want to sing of silence;
Quiet whispers in the breeze.
Laughter floating on the wind,
At the first sign of emergency.
Whispers in the breeze; they
Sing a forlorn song of silence.
From elegy to symphony,
That all Earth knows is death.
Through sunlight and shadow;
Hidden whispers in the breeze.
Communication stumbles,
Power lines strike out.
I want to scream of silence!
To the sunlight; to the shadows!
But the sunlight is not there!
Communication stumbles.
Whispers will become nothing,
Among a breeze in shadow lost.
Death has been the silent song,
And it is all of what Earth knows.
Power lines crash;
Communica
The air was whipping around me as I ran as quickly as I could, one hand shielding my pale eyes from the bright sunlight, my body moving into the air instead of the other way around. This movement was comfortable to me despite my emotions edging on desperation. I was flitting between shadows, not fearing the sun as much as I was uncomfortable in it; the warmth and the light made me far too obvious for me to be comfortable. I was seeking out the darkest place I could find - a place that was, in fact, quite familiar to me. My feet followed the familiar path, keeping their familiar rhythm, and I was able to simply concentrate on the sound of my f
She sang. Her eyes found lines that no one else would cross and she crossed them; she donned a silky, thin dress of midnight blue, and glided across the room and reached out a hand to a man. He was low-lidded, asleep while awake, living to watch the streetlights. On rugged urban streets the pair began to dance. Middle of the night. Nobody there. Her lips found the air and she sang a song of silence in his ear.
Dawn came and the dented decay of shadows became sunlight, and he was reawakening from a dream, his face lighter for a good night's sleep. She was gone and left no note. Her pale hands found brick walls. She could jump them ten feet ta
Close your eyes and listen to the whispers
The gentle hums of soul who pass
They linger in the shadows of the sunlight
A glistening hole which holds no hope
Trapped here by the tears of their lovers
I hear them as they try to soothe
Guilt ravished, I wish for them to leave
But they are the lies, as I wait
For some small comfort
From the ghost that is mine
Their whispers in the breeze
Make my will weak as I
Fight the loneliness that
Kills my soul inside.
I long to sing of silence
That will echo a harsh goodbye
As forgotten lives step
Between the sunlight
And the shadows.
They beg me.
But can I let them
Depart?
Whispers in the breeze carry their songs to me. Songs of laughter, but, more often, dirges of nightmares. I want to sing of silence. I dont want to hear. Cant I have a moments peace? Is that too much to ask?
The grimy window only lets in slivers of light, in between the bars. The sunlight and shadows dance together to the songs carried by the whispers. When night falls, the shadows lengthen and perform dances of a different sort. Bodies entwined, writhing together in ecstasy, in pain, in an eternal struggle.
Horrible creatures reaching for me, or struggling, as I am, to get out of this cage.
Sometimes, in the dark,
I wander this world
Only to be guided by the whispers of the wind
Its voice, carried over the breeze, speaks to me
It tells me this world is unique
That this world is special
That this world should be respected
The whispers lead me over the great beyond
Past the canyons carved by great rivers
Through the red wood forests
Under the grand falls
It tells me to listen
Listen to the sounds of Mother Earth
Together we travel through the light and the dark
Through shadows and sunlight
Into the morning and through the evening
While the whispers teach me
I listen carefully
I listen to the whispers of the wind
I learn of Mother Earth
Dear Watchers,
Again, apologies for being so inactive. With luck, we will have a few prompts to hand out in early to mid January.
Think you have a good prompt, or one you really like? Please submit it! Just send us a note with "prompt idea" in the subject line.
Teague-Drydan (https://www.deviantart.com/teague-drydan)
WRITER'S BLOCK
Writer's Block: a psychological inhibition preventing a writer from proceeding with a piece
courtesy of: Merriam-Webster.Com
We know that Inspiration can only go so far; and that every now and then, writers need a little prompting - a word or a phrase to get the creative juices flowing again.
Prompt-a-Day keeps Writer's Block at bay!
PROMPT OF THE DAY
Prompts:
Nov 5--English Rose
Nov 6--The paint on your hands
Nov 7--marionette
Nov 8--Lost & Found
Nov 9--The Black Balloon
Nov 10--my backpack
Nov 11--Silence in the Night
Nov 12--All the colours of light
Nov 13--fighting dreamer
Nov 14--Bulletin Surprise
Nov 15-
INTRODUCING ...Prompt-A-Day (https://www.deviantart.com/prompt-a-day) was inspired by #FlashLit Chatroom.
~:EDIT:~
November 3, 2009
To our watchers: We are extremely sorry about the halt in prompts (again ^^;), but we've had real-life rear its head and have had to deal with that, along with a slight miscomunication. I'm going to try to keep the prompts going as best I can.
Please hang in there! We want the club to continue.
Teague-Drydan (https://www.deviantart.com/teague-drydan)
~:END EDIT:~
How it works in the chat room is this:
:bulletred: Tag! You're it!
:bulletorange: You're given a prompt, 1 minute to think it over, 5 minutes to write it out
:bulletyellow: Make sure you tell everyone you're starti