|Beautiful Life video|
|'To live isn't about the number of years we spend on this planet, it's about the number of lives we change along the way.|
Artificial moonThe gentle lapsing off the ocean was like silent melodies to my ears, a sound of sweetness to my soul. My gaze set upon the blue moon that rose up beyond the surf, dull, plain like the taste of kisses long forgotten. In my solitude I could not stare at anything else, for the beauty that I had once seen within the shape and glow of its glory now lay idol and ugly. I could feel my heart yearn for the long ago days where it was my source of hope and happiness, but now now that was fading in my memories. It left me alone, cold like the blueness of its surface. I longed for that artificial stare it froze me with to vanish, to never look upon me that way again. For the coldness and darkness of my past was wiped clean in the dead of night I longed for the light of day for the sun to shine again. For within the glow of its love and warmth was all I longed to feel, the warmth of its sincerity. Breaking the trance one last time I turned, with the gentle waves still daArtificial moon by Christianonfire7
|Poetry of the past, 2010.|
Bullied On Our Friendly Website DAcassylovespink
There was once a two authors on a website that wanted to let their opinion out.
But a famous author set to put them out.
She took the flame of these little author’s hearts making them burn from blue to red.
And here’s what she said,
“Your little fire shall be extinguished because I want you to get the Fuck Out!”
The tiny authors wept and cried.
Wondering was it because they picked a side.
Maybe if they had gone with the flow of everyone else
they wouldn't have suffered being a different self?
The small male author thought it was too much to handle and left.
But the dainty female author stayed behind. However
The light within her grew dimmer and dimmer.
And its glow became barely a shimmer.
Her originality became to be like everything else she owned: plastic.
She wasn't real anymore; just another author following the trends.
All hope was lost.
No one to come save her.
Sadness reigned within her,
making her shallow and pale as Frost.
Meeting the ParentsThe apocalypse is near;SilverInkblot
he holds her hand tight, tighter.
The shotgun on the wall gleams.
Her father appears.
Flying With AngelsFlying With AngelsMagicalJoey
She shelters underneath the wings
Of the mighty one
As golden sparks shower forth from massive maws.
Flying with the angels is her pleasure
In this war of the worlds.
Flying with the angels is her duty
In this world at war.
Sheltered enough she leaps forth
Sword catching glimpses of dragon fire
And reflecting glory for all to see.
Angels await her,
And together they fly forward in battle
With the evil one.
Letter to AuthorsAny Author,Amarantheans
You are an author whether or not you are published. The day that you sit down and start typing or putting pen to paper; you become an author. I know that alot of us belittle ourselves everytime that someone asks us, what we do. "Oh, I am a writer but not published." That is what we say, before giving the other person a chance to give us feedback. We have already severed the connection.
From this day onward, when someone asks what it is you do, you tell them; "I am a writer." Then you stop, don't add that next part, they may ask what you write. You know what, the person you are talking to may be interested in your work. Even better, the one person that you are talking to might just be what is standing in between you and being published.
I would be lying if I said that I have never uttered that statement followed by the words, but not published. Today, let us agree to never utter those words again. Today, let us stand together because we are writers and we are authors. We too
converting oxygen to mustard gaseveryday morse code tap tap taptap tapsMatieuCanadaWilliams
through the wire
dragging our faces so deep through the mud
it shields us more
than our helmets ever could, ducking under barbed wire
so covered in mud we are soldiers of the earth itself
no longer do we belong to the army,
us foot soldiers of the front
mother nature reclaiming
her charlie boys,
she'll get no western union notice no yellow slip
at her door
if she takes us all for herself
and distant from this war
in blood so thick and bullets so heavy
fumble for gas masks, throw canisters
for the fatherland
is our excuse
I am a third generation Austinite on my mother's side.
A seventh generation Texan from my mother's side.
And a fifth/sixth generation Texan from my father's side.
So I'm a born and raised Austin Texan chick.
Take that y'all.
My Photography account
What I stand for you ask?
Pro-life www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdOCwd… :thumb292250045:
Pro-power of Christ's love.
Pro- following in Jesus steps.
Most important, don't misunderstand me for being
Sharing His love with others. Misunderstand that and you misunderstand me.
Any questions ask away, I won't bite.
My best and most dearest friends consist of
(My Surreal Express)
Friends worth calling friends.
Wanna read a bit more about my coming to dA and my art?
Here's a short interview I was honored to be apart of by 3wyl
Or are you interested in what others think about my art? Well than check out namenotrequired's News Article about my poetry
'Christianonfire7 is a lovely, kind hearted deviant with strong beliefs and a gallery filled with heart. Her poetry is beautiful and will bring the poet in you to the forefront; her photography is inventive and often catches a glimpse into a different world, a world we aren't all privy to. If one thing in her gallery doesn't inspire and awe you, keep looking--you're bound to find a reason to add Christianonfire7 to your watch list.'
-Written for her Review Competition features.'
DLD's I've gotten.
8-24-2010 DLD feature
The day dusk did not sleep
The day dusk did not sleep.
12-27-2012 DLD Feature
Pay it forward features by lacoterie
Pay it forward February 1st 2013
My sinI bow at His Throne,
Pay it forward March 4th 2013
These wordsI spit bullets and speak daggers.
Video of Gideon and me.
A sad tell.Sobs broke free
'...Put her down.'
Winter loveTwilight on the California beach,
the soft cry of seagulls fill the air.
Sand crabs dance beneath my feet,
as the low lure of the waves draw me in.
Hand gliding through the surf- flowing
with the strength of the deep- grasping
unto the tip of a feather.
That is when I remember you the most,
your frantic scream breaking me from my daydreams.
“Are you crazy lady? It is thirty degrees!”
Those words, they continue to run their course.
Stepping from the ocean, blackbird feather in hand,
I turn to look at you, to see that dumb founded gaze.
“You don’t know the half of it.” I laughed.
Winters are unlike summers, where
summers have flings, a couple months of
momentary kisses that never linger longer than
Winter however, brings less of a bitter sting.
or so I thought until you entered my life.
Your eyes were always in a bubble of adoration,
like a loyal dog gleaming up at his master.
You became my best friend, fingers entwined.
In time, we w
I don't think you realize how much you have changed in the past five years.
Let me take you back to the early summer of 08. You had everything you needed, you didn't want anything more (well maybe a pony, but you always wanted one of those.)
Your best friend was always just a paved street away, such a small defying line between true friendships. All it took was the desire to spend time with her and you could walk from your yard to hers in a matter of seconds. She was your best and truest friend. The first real friend you ever had, the first girl friend you could trust.
Don't worry dear, your tears are safe with me. Just let your mind go back to those joyous times. She was much like you, but still so very different. She was the edge of adventure that you never had before, and you two blended so beautifully. All things beautiful must first go through the fire. 08 isn't far enough, not when it really began in the fall of 02.
October 20th 2002. That was
Impossible LoveYou said it would work out- with a little patience,
then comforted me with those arms of steel.
I guess it was easy to believe your faith –in us-
But honestly I’m filled with too much doubt,
to ever see the possibility.
I hear the knock rasp against my oak wooden door. I swallow hard as I sat the coffee mug down and walk over to open it. I smile up at you in welcome. With all my complicated emotions I still can’t help but feel my heart skip a few beats.
“Hey baby.” Your words echo in the chamber of my heart, rattling it like a bird locked in a cage. Stepping into your out stretched arms I wrap mine around your neck and squeeze you tightly, bearing my face into your neck. “Hey” I whisper quietly against your ear before drawing back to lead you inside the room. Closing the door behind you I motion towards the kitchen.
“I just brewed some coffee.” The response of your growl sends a flicker of desire sparking inside me. I
Script BFAFADE IN:
INT. ON A HILLTOP IN THE MOUNTAINS - COLD NIGHT.
A forest of trees stretch on all sides of a steep grassy hill. The wind blows through the trees, echoing a whistle across the dark starry night. A lone owl hovers overhead a few seconds before disappearing into the thicket beyond the branches.
Sarah (16) stirs in the saddle of a large black sleet stallion horse. He neighs restlessly and paws at the ground but holds his position on the height of the hill, alert.
Suddenly a horse and rider trots forward from the shadowed trail until the moonlit sky brings them into light. The horse climbs effortlessly up the hill and halts next to the black steed.
"Took you long enough!"
"I had to baby sit Misty for my parents while they went out, I got here as soon as they returned."
Crystal (15) rests her hands on the horn of the saddle, her body leaning forward as she meets eyes with her friend.
"Are you ready for this adventure?"
Laughter escapes Sarah.