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Fool on a hillEventually it would become such an event that people would travel all over the world to witness the phenomenon but to start with, nobody noticed. Even when he was noticed, the craze nearly did not start. Terry O’Hara was a bull of a man. With Fiery Red tufts of hair springing up from under his hat, he drove his small sedan through the countryside toward the old cemetery where his great great uncle lay. Gripping the wheel with his giant hands, his thoughts were on his wife and children back home, who were surely at this moment laughing at him for his passion of genealogies. From the inside of the small car, motoring along, itFool on a hill
by ~darkeyes2001
Terminal LifeTerminal LifeTerminal Life
Looking out from behind the thick glasses that were my windows to the outside world, I surveyed the ordered chaos that was before me. Everyone had an activity wherewith they were occupied. The air was cool and sanitized, much like the music in the elevator coming down. Voices over a speaker system called for passengers and announced cancellations of departures. So this is where people go to leave, I muttered to myself as I entered the large waiting area. There were people everywhere. Some formed lines, bags in hand, waiting to pass through to where they would spend their final moments before making their
by ~darkeyes2001
Love in the Time of SolitudeOnce two mighty fortress’ sat In solitude, each to its own Destiny said “It’s not to be”” “They are not meant to be alone”Love in the Time of Solitude
Veins are cut into the mighty stones And out from them rivers run To fill the crevasse between the souls Uniting the two as one.
Now stands one monument to love Made of a stone that cannot fall And carved in it a message writ That speaks of love for one and all
by ~darkeyes2001
Waiting....The coffee smell wafted up the stairs and enticed the olfactory sense of the young man as he sat on one of the cushioned stools. The sounds below him also reached his ears, as the rush of lunch hour took over the poor people working behind the counters of the café. He looked down at the book before him, a blank page staring up at him, mocking him. The poetry didn’t seem to come anymore. Not since he was being treated.Waiting....
He was waiting for someone who might be able to change that. Like him, this young lady was a poet, of sorts. And like him, her poetry came from and intense battle of wills against an insanity that threatened to over
by ~darkeyes2001
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Newcast;e
- Interests: Poetry, Theatre, Literature
- Favourite movie: Garden State
- Favourite band or musician: The Grates
- Favourite genre of music: Rock
- Favourite artist: Dali
- Favourite poet or writer: Yeats, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
- Favourite photographer: Cartier-Bresson
- Operating System: XP
- MP3 player of choice: iPod Photo
- Favourite game: Deus Ex
- Favourite gaming platform: PC
- Tools of the Trade: pen, paper, imagination
- Website: http://myspace.com/darkeyes2001
- Email: darkeyes2001@hotmail.com
- MSN: darkeyes2001@hotmail.com
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"I must endure one or two caterpillars if I wish to become aquainted with the butterflies" The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.
Take care, lemme know if you need a hand figuring out things, you should be right though xox
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"I must endure one or two caterpillars if I wish to become aquainted with the butterflies" The Little Prince" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.
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