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Array
(
[sid] => 152013
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => dust-child.
[time] => 2009-08-04 19:26:00
[hometext] => A sad fairy-tale about innocence lost, and phantoms that breathe outside of nightmares. Quite a personal piece.
[bodytext] => Once upon a time,
There was a little girl that smiled. Unfortunately, that is where the joy ends, because there is always an 'after', and it never gives reason for hearts to remain whole.
I will not waste your time and say that a prince pressed his adoring lips to hers, and resurrected her. I will not say that they lived a long life of mirth and matrimony because broken things cannot belong to happiness.
The prince existed for only a moment; he never kissed those waiting lips, that desperate heart. He merely faded.
And what then, you ask? Surely there is some hope, some little star glistening in the distance.
No. All her stars died long ago, but you can still hear her whispering to them.
Time became irrelevant, a string of breaths, a transient thought.
I feel her stirring sometimes, a song-less entity that opens her mouth to speak, yet there is only dust. The men took her voice away; seven phantoms stole everything. That didn't stop her from searching for the seventh one in each passing stranger, sinking deep into anonymous arms to find the warmth of the one that should have protected her.
One night, I lifted my deepest scar, and found her whimpering between the pearls of fat, the worn muscle. Her small chest rose infrequently, the rasp of her breath dug beneath my veins and spread its intolerable ice.
She looked into my eyes that were her eyes.
I touched her quivering thigh, and remembered to say Stop;
to tear it out of my spine, from beneath the hollow of my womb where his name resides,
and scream it, because she never could.
because she was just a child that was loved too much,
but never in innocence.
The End.
[comments] => 8
[counter] => 328
[topic] => 75
[informant] => FleurdeSang
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 10
[ratings] => 2
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => anguished
)
dust-child.
Contributed by
FleurdeSang
on
Tuesday, 4th August 2009 @ 07:26:00 PM in AEST
Topic:
anguished
|
Once upon a time,
There was a little girl that smiled. Unfortunately, that is where the joy ends, because there is always an 'after', and it never gives reason for hearts to remain whole.
I will not waste your time and say that a prince pressed his adoring lips to hers, and resurrected her. I will not say that they lived a long life of mirth and matrimony because broken things cannot belong to happiness.
The prince existed for only a moment; he never kissed those waiting lips, that desperate heart. He merely faded.
And what then, you ask? Surely there is some hope, some little star glistening in the distance.
No. All her stars died long ago, but you can still hear her whispering to them.
Time became irrelevant, a string of breaths, a transient thought.
I feel her stirring sometimes, a song-less entity that opens her mouth to speak, yet there is only dust. The men took her voice away; seven phantoms stole everything. That didn't stop her from searching for the seventh one in each passing stranger, sinking deep into anonymous arms to find the warmth of the one that should have protected her.
One night, I lifted my deepest scar, and found her whimpering between the pearls of fat, the worn muscle. Her small chest rose infrequently, the rasp of her breath dug beneath my veins and spread its intolerable ice.
She looked into my eyes that were her eyes.
I touched her quivering thigh, and remembered to say Stop;
to tear it out of my spine, from beneath the hollow of my womb where his name resides,
and scream it, because she never could.
because she was just a child that was loved too much,
but never in innocence.
The End.
Copyright ©
FleurdeSang
... [
2009-08-04 19:26:00]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: dust-child.
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Wednesday, 5th August 2009 @ 07:18:17 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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Stephy, I hope this wasn't as painful to write as it was to read.
As always, you weave the deepest emotions within your exquisite words.
But there is a profound sadness inside this that I find impossible to
ignore. In fact I think I shall carry it with me indefinitely ...
You are a beautiful woman and an exceptional poet, ma chéri. I
deeply hope, without equivocation, that this was cathartic for
you.
May happiness find you ...
*hugs*
~ Breezy |
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Re: dust-child.
(User Rating: 1 )
by spud on
Wednesday, 5th August 2009 @ 07:38:05 AM AEST
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a Message)
|
Extremely powerful! Extremely sad!
I'm only supposing here - but I would guess
put together from personal experience.
As a man (and I hope this is not interpretted
as sexist) I feel 'my need to protect' nature
take over here. Will a hug do?
T
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Re: dust-child.
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Wednesday, 5th August 2009 @ 07:52:44 AM AEST
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a Message)
|
I am finding it difficult to add a comment that does not seem to mirror what Spud and Breezy said, but I do mirror those sentiments.
Your excellence as a writer, as a poet astound me.
Take care... really, take care.
Tim |
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Re: dust-child.
(User Rating: 1 )
by elle on
Wednesday, 5th August 2009 @ 08:14:45 AM AEST
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a Message)
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| Infinitely sad & stark. . . peace & every good thing for you. . . elle |
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Re: dust-child.
(User Rating: 1 )
by LoveStruck_Hippie on
Wednesday, 5th August 2009 @ 08:25:50 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
Stephy,
I am finding it difficult to comment on this piece through the tears in my eyes and the pain in my heart.
You have stirred the protective lioness that I at times try desperately to hold at bay. It is toilsome to grasp
the concept that another living soul could cause this much anguish to any living creature.
It pains me to know that those types of people walk among us.
Beautifully and painfully expressed here my sweet.
With loving arms wrapped around you.
Peace
Mama Hippie
AKA ~ Shannon |
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Re: dust-child.
(User Rating: 1 )
by EternitysLyre on
Wednesday, 5th August 2009 @ 11:22:04 PM AEST
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a Message)
|
A truly poignant and tangible expression of tragedy. You write with the eyes of a survivor, with the blood of your own wounds, and with emotion that skips the mind and attacks the heart. I really feel what you're saying here, and I have to commend you for what you've accomplished.
I have to wonder, though, how you seem to want to say that there's an end to the story, even though it feels a great deal more like it never ends, for the victim.
I've been wanting to write a piece about the subject for a long, long time. And even when I finally do I know it won't compare. Good job. |
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Re: dust-child.
(User Rating: 1 )
by ming on
Sunday, 6th December 2009 @ 08:14:18 PM AEST
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a Message)
|
I dont know how I missed your pieces for so long, but am extremely glad I have now found them. And as someone else already said, its hard to say anything that has not been said. But know this...ink is in our blood and letting it flow heals us. IMHO.
ming |
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Re: dust-child.
(User Rating: 1 )
by JamesStockdale on
Saturday, 22nd August 2020 @ 08:23:24 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
Where are you now.
We need to know....
I wish I was here when you were.
Still amazed many years later.
JS |
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