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College ImpressionsAutumn arrived early this year,
suddenly—within the matter of three minutes—
a sucker punch
that couldn't afford to last.
Summer's efflorescence still bloomed
on the first day of classes
as the white magnolias filled the quad
and the denizens of the red bricked buildings
returned to their labors.
too many to quantify:
in the bustling pastel swaths of students
and the cool white dimness of the lecture hall,
hours of freedom
after the endless summers
of lethargy and monochrome
that fade with the last remnants of childhood...
curled midst the neon chairs and cushions
carpeting the floor.
3 AM board games,
the plastic rainbow of pieces
blurring through my exhaustion,
shuffling weary home
before dawn breaks pale on the horizon
past the last of the party rabble
slurring profanities that echo up the stairwell
chasing me to bed.
Black and gold banners
snap in the chill air<em>
ImpossibilityWe meet before breakfast every morning
just to get my quota out of the way.
She drinks steaming coffee without scalding her tongue,
while I blink the sleep from my eyes, sipping slowly.
Her scent hangs heavy in the air with the perfume
of sunbeams and birdsong
and the success of a thousand hopeless dreams, and
I don't know the colors
of the dress she wears, but I'm told
by the butterflies.
Our conversations are staid and brilliant
and can only be recalled
Her favorite activity
is herding cats,
but perhaps next week
it will be milking rattlesnakes;
Hers is the realm beyond paradox,
where nothing begins
before its own conclusion, and mirrors
only work in the dark.
We converse in our minds
about the state of the anarchy
as I pour another mug
and she thanks me through indifference.
She whispers pi
as she sits, idly tracing a straight line
Forests of the Mind"And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything." William Shakespeare
In the forest my thoughts
ring unnaturally loud,
like a voice on
an open stage
when nobody’s around.
Stories unfold in my mind,
new leaves in the spring
unfurling from pale green buds
like butterflies emerging
from their chrysalis,
the pages of a never-ending saga
written in birdsong
and soft, wind-rustled branches.
My mind flows like the brook,
smoothing the rough edges
of my narrative, fluid and free
until time catches me
and my thoughts are drawn irrevocably back
into the endless revisions
of the real world.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More