Cold SnapCold SnapCold Snap by *ShadowedAcolyte
soon my fire will flicker out.
it retreats from the cold
and surrenders, like hope to doubt;
I've never felt so old
autumn's ending; I, too, tire
the wind whispers past my fire,
waning like this dying pyre."
my fire is flickering out.
all life, it seems, retreats;
that's what the winter's all about:
it drains my home of heat.
snow is falling, a baleful sight
it falls from old, uncaring heights.
snow is falling,
snow is falling,
and snow will fall throughout the night.
my fire has flickered out.
I cannot feel my skin,
can't run, nor fight, nor shout:
cold winter settles in.
night has fallen: I try to keep
from slipping into luckless sleep.
night has fallen,
night has fallen:
I pray the Lord my soul to reap.
Baking BreadBaking BreadBaking Bread by *ShadowedAcolyte
Read the recipe: whole wheat flour first,
sift in salt and sugar, mix in milk for yeast's thirst,
beat in butter, and yes, add that yeast,
relax while it raises, prep pans with grease,
divide the dough, now to knead it,
bake the bread, smile at the smell, grab mitts,
slather the slice in jelly or jam, eat!
AdventAdventAdvent by *ShadowedAcolyte
The time of waiting has arrived;
the time of rejoicing, not yet at hand.
Hang lights, weave wreaths, light candles, yes,
but also hang hopes, weave dreams, light hearts:
a room for him you will make in yourself
as no room for him will be made in the inn;
not yet a carpenter, a teacher, or a convict,
not yet a king, a god, and a sacrifice;
the celebration of his birth important only
in the nakedness of his death.
Hand and foot, Hip and breastHear the ever-wonderful `TwilightPoetess read this aloud here!
And now I understand the depths
to which a woman must sink, must
dig herself into, must push past with hand
and foot, hip and breast. It is not light I seek
but solidness. Not spring air soft against
my cheek, but the scalding touch of lava
forced for so long to be silent and still
now worming through a cracked
and weeping crust. It seeks explosions
because affection must be dramatic.
But the sky will not love it
as thoroughly as I do.
And now I understand the impossible
permanence of night-lit words.
They linger in the valley between my wrist
and fingers; stow themselves in my freckles.
I cannot erase their presence, ignore
their weight -- only hope for a lover
who will burn away your shape.
But I understand hope to be a fickle
and most unfortuna
Our Earnest Prayer“Sit down.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment.”
Winston shrugged. Usually, she would have been right. Money had been tighter than usual lately, which meant that the icebox looked more and more sparse with each passing day. Yesterday, he spent most of the day eating the same pot of beans. He liked to leave a little more variety for Beth.
Still, today he was too excited to think about the pit in his stomach. The past few years had been rough on the young family, but the economy had been steadily recovering under McKinley. The gold coming into the country had helped keep Winston and a lot of his friends afloat. But now it was election time, and Representative Bryan was determined to bring silver into the mix. If it were up to the Southern states, he would.
“Just a cup of coffee. Okay, dear?”
Beth nodded and poured a cup from the kettle she had already prepared. She had planned to make eggs that morning, but was
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Impressive performance art or urban fantasy? Pyromania or pyromancy? It's up to you to interpret this beach scene.