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Glenda Nitefly

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Hollow leaves [Apr. 26th, 2005|12:41 am]
Glenda Nitefly
Hollow leaves
of broken glass,
the sweet smell
of destruction.

Tearing open
the dubious path
with eyes wide
in disillusion.

I fear not
for my own pride
but the botomles well
of lost conclusion.

In here,
the light is bright
no wonder
we're all blinded.

March 29th, 2005

Meh. I didn't post this one earlier because it is really mediocre. But the point o this journal is to register all these snippets. So, here. I guess I have been putting my creative energy in a lot o other things, so the poetry-well is a little dry.
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(no subject) [Apr. 14th, 2005|05:26 am]
Glenda Nitefly
I want to lay down on a dusty street at noon, staring at the feet of passers-by, the sound of hundreds of engines drowning out the music in my head and creating new melodies I will believe only I can understand.

I want to lay face down on wet travertine, and let my skin soak up the slippery cold.

I will lay on my back, now, on my bed of down, and dream of the places where we met.

April 6th, 2005

This was a random entry in my journal. Then someone commented on how poetic it was. So I figured I'd repost it here. As a poem.
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GO! [Feb. 23rd, 2005|10:45 pm]
Glenda Nitefly
There's that patience,
at the edge
on the edge
over the edge...

There's that waiting,
growing older
growing closer
growing further...

And they yell so loudly
"do not jump!"
They yell and hold me
but I go.

January 26th, 2005
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LOST [Feb. 23rd, 2005|04:35 am]
Glenda Nitefly
She lost me
to her lovers
a grain of salt
hidden in a tear.

She lost me
to the whispers
of the morning sun
on my fragile skin.

But when she found me
density slipped into intensity
and her fears were
washed away.

January 26th, 2005

Yeah, I wrote a lot on that day. That morning actually. In a sort of manic frenzy, I wrote nine poems in a couple of hours. As many, many artists, I have that manic-depressive streak. And, as many women, it comes in quite predictable cycles: full moon, active; new moon, sad. PMS: raging angry. Period: sad and scared.
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INCOMMUNICABLE DISEASE [Feb. 23rd, 2005|04:31 am]
Glenda Nitefly
I think I have posted this one to my personal journal a while ago. Wrote it, as seems wont to happen, after reading something bibble posted.

It's and incommunicable disease
A germ that blooms

From here,
the tower
is just a memory.

January 26th, 2005
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SWEEPING WILLOWS [Feb. 15th, 2005|01:37 am]
Glenda Nitefly
Sweeping willows
off their feet,
like lovers,
dancers, without conceit.

Stealing arrows
from your heart,
silence, take your part.

Scorned like angels,
the threading worn,
awesome, unborn.

January 31st, 2004.

I have a huge backlog of things I have written recently. I have been lazy and not posting. I think some of my more recent things are really cool. I also have been drawing, and combining drawing with poetry. Wish I could post some of that...
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SHE FLOATS THE ALLIGATOR [Feb. 3rd, 2005|03:25 am]
Glenda Nitefly
Winds,like waves
like the subtlety of fire,
the wight of this earth.

Winds, like tides
much older than this world
transform, and bless,
and, oh, does it hurt.

But the pain contains a kindness
a slippery, peaceful gorve,
a refuge for the ancient
knowledge in our bones.

It hits me with a flicker,
then an instant of true me,
then I mirror the expectant
with such an act of vanity.

But vanity is not selfish,
it's the love of everything
it's the ultimate self-reflection
the perfection of unity.

January 26th, 2005

The more I read this one, the more I like it. I think I need to add a line to the first stanza, and I even had a glimmer of inspiration to do so, but now I am a little at a loss...
Hope you enjoy this one too, please give it a couple of reads before dismissing it. And, of course, leave feedback!
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GRACE [Feb. 2nd, 2005|03:13 am]
Glenda Nitefly
it could be found
on a piece of paper?

I want to dive in.

My forgiveness
is surely not anything
like my forgetfulness.
I still feel the rancor
of long-forgotten affronts.
I still remember
what I long forgave.

February 1st, 2005
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COME IN/OUT [Jan. 27th, 2005|04:36 am]
Glenda Nitefly
Is it the scent of pewter on your skin,
or the laughter of the Goddess from within?
Have you lost your mind, your lips, your senses,
or will you become the sacrifice for censers?
Is it a stain that no one can remove,
or a mark of freedom and of truth?

Hail, I say,
and yea,
come in,
come out,
and play.

January 26th, 2005
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THE ROSE [Jan. 26th, 2005|05:08 am]
Glenda Nitefly
The leather and the rose
the heartbeat and the throes
The uncontrollable,

The hero and the muse
the conquest, the will to lose
The unparalleled,

January 26th, 2005
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