we hoped it would get bad enough to break glass
that one of our voices
would find the note
to split the window
make a neighbour call the cops
that the dishes would shatter
into too many pieces
to be picked off the floor
we wanted glass in our heels
a trickle of heat
a flicker of colour
in the sun-blank snow
the pines leaned on our doorframe
we waited for them
to pressure in and unfurl
shower our stunned faces
in a rain of needles
knock the teapot off the table
in a blossom of shards
but the trees stood by
evergreen and identical
the same dream of pine repeating
behind yellowing plastic
we painted shut the door
with smi
can you really believe
that it's easy to forget me
when that time was wept
by skyfall so far above us
to me
I was you
to know you remember
that our skin
under love of nature's graze
was wet by the time
the long storm had passed
amidst grass in summer field
pressed down by your body
dragging me down
you fell
I believe the story
was told
yet you do not fool me
with crescent eyes
that held wells
deep and silent
with mischief
my playful pixie
were you
where I was the hand
that always held you up
when truth always wanted to be fiction
said by words
before lips met in kiss
where thought became colours
that went beyond names
in places where dreams
Chickens running around with their heads cut off
barnstorming, can't keep the cattle in one spot
like John Henry and Thor are competing for hottest iron
and there's an unsettling feeling on the planes, staring over yonder turns flesh around the eyes to rot
coyotes howl like they're ten times the size of wolves across the plains, it's a mighty scary thought
No one comes and no one goes from the river for months now, trails as barren as chem be
crops are dying in the same pattern as handwriting, circles growing up are quite the stalks
the ranch is all abuzz with the pestering whispers of conspiracy
while all these hardworking folks prove wha
solastalgia is a silent nightjar by PatchworkLynx, literature
Literature
solastalgia is a silent nightjar
hold your tongue.
there's a storm coming and
you're sick of it, but the rain-slick pavement's
so beautiful in the light, a
red smear paint-stroke shadow with a soul;
when the lightning bolt falls
you inhale the wreck of sky and stare
at the scent of this dirt rich place
with its downpour name.
tilt your umbrella. breathe.
nothing will stay dry.
this is not how the world
ends. you promise until you believe
in the sunrise tomorrow,
but no matter how you rush the water rushes
faster. the birds flock out and flowers drown
so you slow down, look around.
hold your breath.
you lose the umbrella to the wind.
you burn out and forget to swim.
som
Prose-ject: Prose-ject 2019, Days 8-15 by OneWithTheStars, journal
Prose-ject: Prose-ject 2019, Days 8-15
Hello everyone! OneWithTheStars here and welcome to the second week of the namesake event here at Prose-ject (https://www.deviantart.com/prose-ject): Prose-ject 2019!
PROSE-JECT 2019
Just what is the Prose-ject? Well, it's a fun way of getting yourself to write every day for the month! (Basically our version of Flash Fiction Month, which happens in July, but here at Prose-ject (https://www.deviantart.com/prose-ject), we want to get you into the daily writing flow in preparation for our grand and glorious gauntlet coming up over the following months, working up the word counts to prepare those daring souls that partake in NaNoWriMo in November...or simply for those preferring the lighter word counts than 50k, so