A Daughter Now BegottenIf reason could challenge the knowledge of infinity,A Daughter Now Begotten by NathanielFlyingOwl
the blindness of justice;
should we not call ourselves Gods...
And Gods are we not, for if justice were truly blind,
it would hold the same fate for rich and poor alike...
Under the celestial heaven that shines above,
the beggar's crying face and the rich man's arrogant gaze...
So of The Creation we are, living in throngs of solitudes....
Each solitude made torturous by the lust for more money,
yet eased by the kindness of strangers and the love of God...
Which power of change is made,
unto glory from a prisoner down trod,
to a man of faith, who helped a dying woman in need till loving eclipse.
A daughter now begotten, of starry eyes and golden sun ray locks...
Cherished by God and adored by both parents,
though mother soon to be with the Creator Almighty,
this daughter grows up knowing the brittleness of mortality...
...As her lips of red rose blossoms,
her heart aches as the mourning moon that hides behind the bosom of clouds...
Ode To A Moonlit ZephyrLight of a waning moon, a silent melodyOde To A Moonlit Zephyr by NathanielFlyingOwl
A moon more lustrous tonight than I remember
Reaching through the midnight black to captivate me
Gentle motions of a zephyr always dancing
In charming whispers intertwining with my hair
Serenades the dark as it is bathed in moonlight
Darkened heavens holding fast to my attention
Zephyr's melody is the only sound I hear
Articulating a peace not found among men
For a single moment all pain is forgotten
This zephyr embracing my body, mind and soul
Speaking of things I am too cautious to explore
Moonlight and whispering wind weaving around me
My eyes slowly shift among the faint distant stars
Observing them through the branches of conifers
Listening to this zephyr, a breath of mountains
A breath that gives life to each verse I choose to write
A soul-searching breath I am still learning to share
Are anointed revelations being whispered
On each dancing movements of the moonlight zephyr
A prolonged and sacred poetry recited
With a natural, eloquent ease
Ode To A FalconHave you seen the falcon in the heavensOde To A Falcon by NathanielFlyingOwl
Wings slicing through the zephyrs at such speeds
As no other creature has yet achieved,
Barreling through the air like a bullet
As his feathers combine to make him sleek?
Have you watched him in the midst of a hunt,
Flying as fast as his form will let him
Rushing towards his airborne, avian prey,
Assaulting it with his feet and catching-
Its unconscious body out of the air?
Have you observed his movements as to feel
At once delighted and jealous of him
Overjoyed that he maintains the freedom
To meet the sky upon his own accord,
Envious that you cannot do the same?
Many TimesMany Times by dragon-fly-to-me
Perceptions by StormBringer23Missionary by FuzzyHoser
Besame tonto by josemanchadoBathing Cowboy n Coffee by MikeysPhotos
...we learn the power of voice early in life. How completely it
affirms, condemns, comforts in the light and the dark.
And there comes a day when we realize how quickly it can seduce.
I was sixteen.
...oh the hours I listened to that cassette tape "Heart Shaped World"
on my fuzzy headphones, hooked up to that boom box.
Oh the dreams I dreamt, eyes closed, stretched out on my bed,
Limit to 3 submissions a week.
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Fantastic Tutorial Links within dA
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Note: Our group administrators will be adding to the above lists as we find tutorial and CSS links that we believe will help our members with creating works of art and CSS links that will assist in creating a functional profile and gallery to showcase art
Throughout the history of man, the power of water has been worshipped in the form the deities who control the oceans, seas and rain. Through worship, mankind acknowledged the power of water to bring life and cause death. Water cleanses, refreshes and renews. Water is all around and is an integral component of all living things.
In many ways, water is much like art to the artist. The artist sees art and inspiration all around. Art is integral to who the artist is at a very primary level. For the artist, art cleanses the soul, renews the spirit and gives life to the inanimate. Art flows from the artist in a spring of creativity sometimes in a cascade and sometimes as a quiet trickle. We, like our ancestors, are moved by the power of water.
These few selections from Love-New-Artists demonstrate the inspiration of the world of water on the world of art.
Enjoy the inspiration!
I love the girl who lives across the sea There is a girl who lives across the sea from me, we met by chance with technology, when I should have been asleep and she was trying to find a break from the world. I was a liar back then, wanting to be someone I was not. I still wish that I was different, but she has changed me, so I always tell the truth. For her.
She loved dragons and mayhem back then, the fantastic worlds of books and magic. But I have changed her, and she is not as loud and joyous, but now more of a drifter through the daybreak, a feather slowly dancing in the wind before the storm.
I believe in the girl who believes in me.
I am a bully, I am a thief, while she was a whisper in my ear, a word spoken to make me think about if what I was doing was wrong. I am not as bad as I used to be, but I wish I could steal the flitting doubts that she is beautiful, and keep her safe from the shadows.
April RainApril rain has me crying along,
Sitting alone, listening to the sad melodies of this song.
Someone once told me,
The past is only the future with the lights on.
I laid here and it rained for days,
The blue sky, it turned to grey.
But this is the part of growing up.
I never wanted to learn.
You made your plans and drove away,
The last time I'd see you, that day.
A metal box that drifted off course,
Drifted off, and without force,
The concrete roads, never seemed shorter.
I'll grow, but you'll never know,
I'll always cry for you, but it'll never show.
Your flower will never again bloom,
Like an unborn child who died in the womb.
How to Breathe UnderwaterThere's something about water
Alluring and drawing you in
Closer till your nose is pricking the surface.
Rings dance around the protrusion
Repeating their form to expand on the feeling.
And just when you get comfortable you realize you can't breathe.
Closed eyes serve to freeze time
Letting you contemplate your move as breath drifts from your lips.
Do you drown, or do you retreat to safety?
What if just this time you dove
And discovered you had learned to breathe under water?
What if just this once, you sank
And discovered you had evolved, lungs to gills.
There's something about your eyes.
Alluring and drawing me in.
Closer still, till my nose nestles against yours...
-Rachel A. Osborn
Water SignsThen water, you and I,
Scorpio and Cancer, respectively,
yours the calm fathomed passion of lake
mine a spring fed, fast-tumbling brook
You taught me to swim in your deep
with caressing breast and leg stroke
I flashed my silver moon flair, leapt,
like a fish, into dizzying ozone air
matched my fall-free
drowning-dive to your quiver.
Oh the silky innuendo,
shimmered laughter and sparkling jive -
though you wanted more of wet and more wet,
I, the tiptoe through shallow
fearful I could get lured, hooked
by such a catch-and-release kind of guy.
WaterI lap at your feet, welcoming you into my depths.
Seducing your toes to step closer, wade further
Its a cool day, and I offer warmth and comfort
Begging you to swim, even though you know
That danger lurks with me
I entice your senses,
A single dance with the darkness
A sway into danger,
Cant be that bad,
soft as waterthis is the funeral
where grey ash spreads
& in the air, a traffic of kites stream across the horizon,
the ash of sails, ghostly non existent,
sails set wide, slicing across the Hudson river
the water heals itself
rescinding wounds, sowing back together the places
where edges meet, and we become soft as water
doves sow the horizon thus, weaving through the kites on fire
& the lovers on fire
and the burns and burns and ink stains
on quiet carpets
everything became a silent memory buried under graves
in the cemetery sails bloom in deathly renaissance.
overpopulation expands exponentially
underground, in empty spaces
(between the sand, rivers, dust storms)
waves recede and seagulls echo
and the shivering saline sea is rough
(baring our naked spines against the asphalt
of the shore, the seagulls soaring echo
more truth than we'll ever know)
they know about:
recessions, receding shorelines and horizons,
and men retreating within,
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