We lie in wait and I say, "He's
as determined as a
child being eaten away by cancer, Swearing that she'll cure herself
one
Blackened cell at a time."
Though as we spoke his frailty was being swallowed
whole by a bed of wrongs, made servant to
the things he wished to Change, Transform, into
both the common and the beautiful
as one strong of heart does,
but with all the anger and resolution of one helpless to do so--
"But when the enemy is already inside, throwing fits of
Reckless destruction like
a human-animal (refined/Confined by its thoughts)..."
They are
(and he was)
Prodded into the fight, and in the face of death
he
bowed into
a sta
Shattered Glass and Stepping Stones by EvelynTaliette, literature
Literature
Shattered Glass and Stepping Stones
The brilliance of the setting sun
Is captured, held tight
By the surface of the pond-
Dark and unknown
Beneath its reflection.
Tranquil beneath its stuttering gait,
Encompassed by thick woodlands,
And guarded by strong-armed branches
That wave at all passing by
With their feathered, individual leaves.
A ghost of a little girl-
Scraped knees, bird’s nest of tangled hair.
Laughing, bare feet pounding in tune
Across fallen logs and exposed roots
Flitting in and out of sight
As she traverses
Her little forest kingdom.
Hidden are her special stones
Plucked from the depths of the pond
And piled in hidden nooks
With woven grass crowns-
Calm
White Winter Spirits by EvelynTaliette, literature
Literature
White Winter Spirits
We had forgotten long ago. All of our precious memories had been wrapped meticulously inside our red scarves and animal skin coats, free from the mind but kept close to skin for safekeeping. Like loved children bundled in winter fabric, we are fragile inside our layered past; like lost children forgotten by all we know, we wander aimlessly. Our minds are tainted with the constant ache of homesickness- the stars blazing overhead through the flurry of snow never stops urging us onwards, to seek the stars we remember from home.
In silence, our pack travels. The snow, our shroud, makes no noise as we step upon its banks; the forest, dead from th
“She doesn’t see like we do.”
There’s black lines on the insides of her eyes, trapping her inside her own little world. The whites just remind her of sunlight when she looks in the mirror, but the tendrils of red make her cringe. She’s a jailbird in her own reality, with her pale hands grasping obsidian crisscrossed bars.
“It’s because of her mother. Always too busy drinking to teach her how to live. Never let her out of her own shell.”
The never-ending hallway that collapses just before her hand can pull the doorknob. The walls closed in around her, twisting and turning until her knobby knee
Liquid Kaleidoscopes (Take 2) by EvelynTaliette, literature
Literature
Liquid Kaleidoscopes (Take 2)
All is white when I first wander in- the type of blinding, unfiltered light that can only mean raw purity. Infantile, as clean as if never touched or seen. Robbed of my other senses, I'm forced to see with my bare hands. They grasp sheets (a soft silk that conforms to the softest touch) that I've been tasked to mark. Empty, brimming with possibilities. Open to my suggestion.
I dip my fingertips into the liquid kaleidoscopes, dripping accidental rainbows and rivers of every color.
My first touch of the canvas is mild, almost unnoticed in the noise of the emptiness around me. Sublime before it arches into a crescendo. The colors crash over my
Liquid Kaleidoscope (Take 1) by EvelynTaliette, literature
Literature
Liquid Kaleidoscope (Take 1)
Liquid kaleidoscopes, spilled and smeared without care across wall and floor. Forgotten words, written in electric blue against the most intrusive of crimson. Soft greens echo behind remains of lasting orange, seared into your very memory.
Without lines or guides to prevent my permanent mistakes, I paint, haphazardly, across the backside of your eyes.
Deliquescent equilibrium,
Tumbling to and fro
Beneath your trapping thumb-
Pushing, and yet pulled to the Earth.
Up and Down is lost again
As well as Left or Right-
The lying brothers of opposites
The struggle, arms locked tight
Until gravity itself
Is erased.
Faltering rays of sunlight peel away from the carcass of a once beautiful city.
Among the rotting bones lies piercing voices- lost, pleading for a god that never listens.
This is their mantra.
Elo he? (Your god?)
While I
Slip in between the
Cracks in the street;
Sickle moon smile
That haunts your dreams.
Weathered hands, searching pockets
Of those with hearts
That no longer beat.
Elo he? (My god?)
Breaking,
My once-golden hair
Torn out, strewn in heaps.
My skin pinched sore-
The horrors, they’re real!
I watch my city’s agonizing death,
As my blood stills to ice-
My body forgotten, entombed
As the Last of the Queens.
Elo he? (
Remembering Who You Once Were by EvelynTaliette, literature
Literature
Remembering Who You Once Were
Little Eve,
Life can be told through numbers- did you know that, dear child? That by saying a few simple syllables, by writing a stream of organized marks, you can communicate so much. Everyone knows you can pack a world, a story, a person into just a few words- but none consider numbers. Then again, I know you’re not one for numbers- even now (if this letter arrives on time, of course) you’re beginning to favor the weaving of words instead of the futile calculation of numbers…
Enough of all that rambling, I have a feeling that you’re wondering why this is here. Well, I’m here to tell the story of us- of every
“Have you ever thought about how nothing is ever exactly the same as you saw it a moment before?”
“What do you mean?” I squinted at him through glasses that had fogged up over the steam of my coffee; he watched with vague, distracted interest. Exactly like a cat examining its prey- weighing the requirement of effort against the satisfaction of the hunt.
“Everything is constantly changing. If it weren’t, the world wouldn’t be spinning on its axis- time itself would grind to a halt.”
I slid my glasses off and polished the lenses with the hem of my shirt before parking them back in front of my eyes