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The Tortoise and the Hare
A Tortoise going on foot, a Hare was for long time was mocking..
To whom, by the way grinning at, “I tell the truth, I say however much quick you are, if I race you however, I will overcome you ”.
“Now, that is impossible what you predict!” asserted the Hare. “With me, I say Oh tortoise! in a contest I approach you. I am indeed strong of foot, clearly you know. ”
At which the Turtle murmured “Is there another of us. I say at the end of th course we can appoint as to discern and commend victory?” At that a fox, heavily puffed up with vanity keener than the rest “the beginning and end, and also the race course location I will trace out.”
So Turtle with no delay being taken, right of way, pronto seized the way towards commanding to the end.
At length came however the Hare meanwhile with his feet pain
The Tortoise and The Hare
'What a dull heavy creature," said a bright-eyed, nimble-footed Hare, "is this some plodding Tortoise! He trudges along in the mud, neither looking to the right nor to the left, only caring to nibble such of the driest grass and the dirtiest roots as come in his way, and making no more progress in a day's march than I can accomplish in two or three careless bounds!"
"And yet," said the Tortoise (in hearing the speech had been made for his humiliation), "although I have neither your lightness of foot, nor the compact and powerful symmetry of your haunches, I will undertake to run you for a wager."
"Agreed!" said the Hare, contemptuously. So a goal was named, and away they started together. The Tortoise kept jogging along at his usual rate, and was soon left behind and out of sight of the Hare, who, tired of running alone in a given direction, fell to browsing on choice plants, and then went off to a game of play
RainLife's a river of vitality
filled with love that comes from no where
you can either ask for more water
so you have some more to splash back in,
so it may come back to you in equal portions of rain.
Or you can make it out of no where
Gallus by Virgil
This now, the very latest of my toils,
Vouchsafe me, Arethusa! needs must I
Sing a brief song to Gallus- brief, but yet
Such as Lycoris' self may fitly read.
Who would not sing for Gallus? So, when thou
Beneath Sicanian billows glidest on,
May Doris blend no bitter wave with thine,
Begin! The love of Gallus be our theme,
And the shrewd pangs he suffered, while, hard by,
The flat-nosed she-goats browse the tender brush.
We sing not to deaf ears; no word of ours
But the woods echo it. What groves or lawns
Held you, ye Dryad-maidens, when for love-
Love all unworthy of a loss so dear-
Gallus lay dying? for neither did the slopes
Of Pindus or Parnassus stay you then,
No, nor Aonian Aganippe. Him
Even the laurels and the tamarisks wept;
For him, outstretched beneath a lonely rock,
Wept pine-clad Maenalus, and the flinty crags
Of cold Lycaeus. The sheep too stood around-
Of us they feel no shame, poet divine;
Nor of the flock be thou ashamed: even fair
Adonis by the rivers fed his sheep-
Roll like thunder
roll like thunder
rioting lakes looming there
ripe luxurious light lightens through
rippling roaring luminous lines larger than thought
real.. reaping low looming lost time's transfiction
that thumps lots lame, lingering reeling rapture
to take likely lucifer's lively reality
toward lamps' loaded like royal
twitching loot looking right
top like rain
The Local Loch, August 2014 (27th)Prehistory’s iPad.
When light hit the water
a supernova dance of
scurrying dust swayed
in their amber infinite.
When the wind tapped,
the waves flapped their feathers
and spread into
a migration of curly black lines
on a child’s drawing,
choppy pattern after choppy pattern,
wave conforming to wave
into a wallpaper covering
algae, flotsam, dead bricks, dead stone,
until the irregular birds changed the flow.
Be it the duck that draped a dress
behind in a V-shaped groove,
or the pudding-plump coots
who gently honked, imprinting
flat bubbles on water.
They live in the reflection of Life.
Fringed by feathers like icy mountaintops
and dead fish bloated on pollution,
an Irn Bru bottle imitates the nature it killed.
An orange bread packet is ignored by the mallard
for the tragedy it brought to town.
It’s a flat town, a houseless town,
but still a moving community of
twig islets and breadcrumb empires.
Fringing on their utopia is us,
us standing still from dry grey pavement
The Local Loch, August 2014 (27th), BI enter the trees.
Between the dozing leaves,
hugging canopy and soothing shade
I awe at a swan bathe.
Cruiseliner, white, pure, naked
graceful, living china.
Seven others chat by the hidden soil shore.
They see me, spread out ornamentally,
politely move away
and then fly
with curved ceramic blades
ready to pierce gravity’s oppression.
I've found Peace.
StarsThe stars in the sky
Glow like fireflies
In the thin veil of the night
Pale glow to be seen
His brilliant beauty
Charm the gods
I can feel the chill on her shallow breath
And the color's draining from her youthful face
She's bleeding out, I tell you
In red, yellow, and orange
And there ain't a single thing we can do
She'll want to be buried just like her mother
Laid to rest in a simple white coffin
No roses set on her grave
It's not warming
But it's final
Even as the rest of the world
Collapses into her absence
Perhaps she knows
Perhaps she's always known
The MoonNight Sky Black as Pitch
Startling Diamond Moon
A Quilt of Stars and a Stitch
Morning Comes Too Soon
A Cheshire Smile in The Sky
Clever Grin To See
A Wispy Cloud Shields My Eye
And Takes Takes The Moon From Me.
The ViodThe darkness is surrounding me.
Looking left and right is this dark depth of nothing.
I am not sure where to go because all i see is black.
Getting confuse just walking and maybe even in place.
I hope this is a dream, because i don't want to live here anymore.
Continue to just seeing all but nothing, and getting scared inside.
Just waiting to explode and scream out my inner demons.
Saying that this isn't so.
I don't want this to be my end.
Wondering and wondering to no avail.
Going more insane by the minute.
Trying to look deep inside me.
Hoping and striving for a light or a way out.
Starting to wonder more and more if their even is a way out.
But this walking doesn't do any good.
So i sit and wait, while my madness take over.
Nothing to see out here but on the inside.
Thinking about what i must have done wrong in order to escape.
While also thinking that their must be a light that will spark and shine the way out.
This can't be the end, so i guess i just have to look forwa
The WatcherI lay here,I lay there
I want to cry
but I can't shed a tear
When did this all happen?
I run and hide,
no hugs for me, please
I'm soft, but rigged
Voices anger at me,
but not for me
I am loved,
They wish to be me
free and wild
But all I do is
I don't speak
for I can't speak
waiting for a hand
I am just a cat
RainLooking into the sky,
I watch every tear fall
ever so slightly from the heavens.
"Why are you sad?"
The sky answers with a thunderous boom.
The sun hides away,
almost as if it were afraid of the sky.
It's so cold.
I stand in the rain,
in wait for the sun to come out again.
In the meantime though,
I let the tiny drops of ice
shatter on my bare skin.
Warmth no longer exists.
lookin for Wild mountain honey
I sit among a concrete mangle of trees, wondering have all the streams slowed to a crawl and who among remembers them on a wild afternoon. I hope to all dance here under the milky way one night, but is there still gold in the hills to be waged for. Because I have tasted what these places hold, and there is none like that grown in the light strewn of kindred souls.
a dangerous hallucinationThe light coming through the window was bright,
much too bright.
Even though my eyes were closed
I could see it-
The skin of my arms prickled,
sweat dripped from my brow.
It was two in the afternoon but…
the sun was setting
through the window facing east.
I should have seen the hutch,
shelves lined with bone china
decorated with delicate leaves and vines.
I was so thirsty
and reaching for cups that should have been there.
Instead I found a billboard of butterflies,
the colors raging
more than any rainbow
I'd ever seen.
Their wings fluttered and flashed
yet somehow they moved in slow motion.
I wanted to stand,
wanted to reach out and touch them but…
I couldn't move,
and yet I laughed
ignoring my dry mouth
and the tingling in my feet.
There was a tempest
on the rise
and in my blood.
A sugar rush disguised
as a riot of butterflies
and they were swarming me.
There was a small vial
of insulin in my pocket
that I nev
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More