tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15435542478130626702024-02-07T17:11:46.123+11:00zedcafeZian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-78619952188410102182018-07-19T11:51:00.003+10:002018-07-19T11:51:45.414+10:00<span style="font-size: large;">A poem is the grace of the heart and mind as one, the speaking of the soul, the articulation of longing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You can be the captain of your soul, merrily drink the wine and run for freedom, down to a sunless sea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But only the poem that you do not speak - ah, there is the magic of your life. Not what you have spoken, but that which you have breathed, have bled and died for, that which you have chosen life for. </span>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-84148594033605776572018-07-19T11:48:00.003+10:002018-07-19T11:48:20.018+10:00<span style="font-size: large;">From spectacle to symbolism,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When the turning leaf is the fall of time,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The fragile petal is the fragility of life,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The glint of light in the eye is the fire of the human spirit;</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We elevate through understanding,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We emote through sensation,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We translate through reflection;</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We live in art to let the metaphor blow our minds..... </span>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-90692026523186070672018-04-11T00:29:00.002+10:002018-04-11T00:29:28.857+10:00Rain<span style="font-size: large;">Stillness. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Such maddening, stifling stillness.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A silence that hushes the world like a blanket.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The birds and insects quieted in daylight, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A thickness of the atmosphere that dulls</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Even the whispers of the trees. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And then......</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Roaring, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A wind the breath of a hundred demons,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">An exhalation of victory and triumph,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A thunderous fanfare of the spirits of air;</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And it started to rain.</span><br />
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<br />Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-62019385014796022322018-02-01T18:26:00.001+11:002018-02-01T18:26:31.846+11:00Be Here NowBe here now. Live it. Feel it. Be it. <div>
Because it too shall pass and this time won't come again. </div>
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Every hill is a foothold to a mountain. Every storm is a prelude to a sunny day. Every heartbreak is an introduction to the strength of your soul. </div>
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Every note needs to be followed by another to make music. </div>
Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-50213731360209211192018-02-01T18:20:00.002+11:002020-04-18T23:57:20.820+10:00Awakening<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For years, she slept. Her petals curled tightly around her, a silent velvet cocoon that held her close inside, softened by shadows, muted by silence. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then the rains came, unrelenting. Tears fell from the sky to stain her cloak, soak her skin. Until she could stand no more. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And she began to unfurl.... </span></div>
Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-15700729020937639272018-02-01T18:10:00.001+11:002018-02-01T18:10:52.779+11:00It Begins Like A DreamIt begins like a dream, <div>
Something vague, subtle, quiet,</div>
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A thought, just a thought, </div>
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Turning round on itself</div>
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Growing in power</div>
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Chanted in the echoing chambers</div>
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Of the mind, </div>
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Until it is resonating, like a bell, </div>
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Like a chorus of bells, </div>
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Tolling over and over. </div>
<div>
Just a thought. </div>
<div>
Just a word. </div>
<div>
Just a name. </div>
Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-22683751914252265952018-01-14T13:32:00.002+11:002018-02-01T18:23:35.557+11:00In Dreams<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 3px; min-height: 25.1px;">
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><span style="font-size: 17px;">And I lay down, to sleep, to dream, of icy rivers sunk in caverns so deep, the waters were black; of shadows that hovered in the rock, whispering my name as I drifted past; of soft, haunting cries that came from above, so high, so out of sight, I knew not what called.... and I dreamed, seemingly endlessly swept along in the cold, echoes and ghosts dogging my passage, like weary voices on the wind...</span><span style="font-size: 17px;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 21pt;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span></div>
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Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-57413008278415023642017-05-14T14:22:00.001+10:002017-05-14T14:22:11.446+10:00Forged In FireMake me glass<br />So that when I break, <br />I shatter.<br />So that there are no pieces to pick up and put back together. <br />So that I may place myself in fire,<br />Melt me down, redesign me,<br />Return whole, polished and new,<br />Without cracks <br />Or lines of glue. <br /><br /><br /><br />Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-58312558970391783912017-05-13T10:03:00.001+10:002017-05-13T10:03:05.324+10:00She LovesShe loves steel and glass, and worships trees. <br />She loves glossy magazines and handmade couture, <br />And wears black. <br />She loves dark stormy nights because they won't let her sleep.<br />She loves caravans when they're parked outside. <br />She loves tiny houses and wants to live in a warehouse.<br />She loves mirror balls and dance music, <br />and doesn't like neon.<br />She loves pop artists and post-modern expressionism,and is inspired by Michelangelo. <br />She loves men who thrive in their solitude, and own the crowd. <br />She loves women that don't make comparisons.<br />She loves passion and desire, and romance and laughter, and walks through life alone. <br />She loves the darkness because shadows have secrets.<br />She loves the light because she blinds herself. <br />She loves truth and beauty, the imagination and knowledge. <br />She loves childhood and innocence, because she has seen too much. <br />She loves fantasy because it explains reality. <br />She loves love, despises cruelty, and knows they travel hand in hand. <br />She adores nature, and lives in the city.<br />She loves silver, because it is beautiful, hard, made in darkness, and reflects the light..... <br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-16221515660404949692017-03-14T19:07:00.001+11:002017-03-14T19:07:20.806+11:00Rain<br />You, to me, are like rain in the night. <br /><br />I want to lie awake just to hear the sound of your voice. <br /><br /><br />Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-23637957103215892182017-01-19T15:44:00.000+11:002017-01-19T15:44:12.224+11:00Fragments<div style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You crave something pure. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It doesn't matter what it is, just something pure. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whether it be creation, destruction, love, indifference, fear, peace, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you wanted it to have purity. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It drives you crazy, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">it lends itself to your brokenness. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And when you can't find it, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you think you're going insane. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You think the world turns against you, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">that it is persecuting you, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">taking you away from real happiness, real fulfilment. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet all it ever was, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">was your desire, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">your need, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">your endless ambition for something pure.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You are not broken. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You are simply living in fragments.</span></div>
Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-69123709653472721432017-01-18T17:00:00.000+11:002020-04-18T23:56:01.304+10:00Deeper Into Darkness<div style="color: #454545; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; min-height: 15px;">
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">For the world separated its truth from its doing, and men were laid low as animals, desperately craving sustenance, but without satisfaction. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">And rather than wallow in darkness, I hurled myself deeper into its maw, far from the surface and the insanity of its light, as the preachers fed the masses with pretty tales and open wounds, and the glory of salvation in the embracing of their gluttony and urge. So twisted their desire for peace had become, it was only in the sating of their appetite and hunger for self-destruction.... </span></div>
Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-65102210856378730832017-01-14T11:40:00.001+11:002017-01-14T11:40:24.721+11:00Fragments<div>You crave something pure. It doesn't matter what it is, just something pure. Whether it be creation, destruction, love, indifference, fear, peace, you wanted it to have purity. It drives you crazy, it lends itself to your brokenness. </div><div><br></div><div>And when you can't find it, you think you're going insane. You think the world turns against you, that it is persecuting you, taking you away from real happiness, real fulfilment. </div><div><br></div><div>Yet all it ever was, was your desire, your need, your endless ambition for something pure.</div><div>You are not broken. You are simply living in fragments.</div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-79820545375238228872017-01-13T19:58:00.003+11:002017-01-13T20:20:08.197+11:00Storytime - The Wave<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I was sixteen, there was a cyclone warning for our region over a weekend - naturally the girly friends and I wanted to go to the beach. The beach is awesome during a storm. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We got there in plenty of time before the cyclone - it was hours away - and the ocean was having a wonderful time, pulling back hard from the shore and crashing like a punk rocker on a Barry Manilow birthday party in the breakers. Awesome. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My friends were a bit shy of the waves, so they stayed in the shallows, but I wanted to go body surfing - the action was kicking and I wanted a piece of it. So I left them there, made my way past the breakers and got into open waters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Wow. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Small swells by any global measure - I was not in Hawaii after all, but I had never felt anything like it. The sheer force under the water, the ebb and tow - it was like being lifted in the hand of a giant. The sky was raging above, dark, ominous clouds rushing past, sprays of heavy rain, and here’s little teen me, sitting like a raisin in a cement mixer, howling at the wind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The waves were too chaotic for a good ride - I switched tactics and played under the water instead, riding the currents just below the surface, like a seal. It was so cool - turning over on my back, I could see the storm in the sky, through the racing water above me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I went to the surface for air, turned to the horizon to watch, and immediately got pummelled by an oncoming wave. The force pulled me right down again, and I hit the deck on my back. I was dragged along the sand for a few seconds, and as I turned over, I was hit by another force that flipped me over - I was somersaulting along the bottom, unable to get control back - and I was running out of air. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I pushed out with my feet, causing enough drag to slow me down, and I couldn’t work out which way was up. I kicked out, and ended up hitting the deck again. Wrong way dummy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I flipped, pushed off from the ocean floor, and made it to the surface. To get smacked in the face by another wave. But after choking and spluttering for a bit, I got my air back, and kicked off towards shore. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">By the time I was in the shallows, my friends and a life saver were running out to get me; I had bleeding abrasions all along my back from getting dragged, and my swimsuit was half torn off from the force of the water. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">They got me up to the guard point, checked me over, checked my breathing, made me sit for a few minutes, and then pronounced me good to go. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And I went back out there, into the storm, and had a ball. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There is ALWAYS going to be something out there bigger and meaner and tougher than you. It’s going to kick your ass, and show you that your life can be ripped away from you in seconds, take everything from you, and leave you lying on a shore, gasping like a guppy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And if you want something so bad that you don’t even care about that, you’ll go back and try again. And again. And again. </span></div>
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Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-43612519071845398172016-09-08T10:17:00.001+10:002016-09-08T10:17:24.731+10:00Last Man Standing<div><br></div><div>When there is no one left, </div><div>And you are the last man standing,</div><div>When the battlefield is littered </div><div>With the dead.</div><div>When there is no one left to watch </div><div>As the dying sun dips under</div><div>The horizon, </div><div>And you are tormented by the silence;</div><div><br></div><div>Sing, as the moon rises. </div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-62874762537126561522016-08-20T21:29:00.001+10:002016-08-20T21:29:05.827+10:00Rediscovered<div>I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">am new. Rediscovered. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Found in your words, your sweet attentiveness - your lust for life. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div>I am wild, soft, and so alive, in the arms of your thoughts, that stark, masculine poetry, the hours that you seek me, again and again... </div><div><br></div><div>I am woman, mind, body and soul, gentled by your strength, and yet so savage in the dark of your need. </div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-78503711413387118942016-08-20T21:26:00.001+10:002016-08-20T21:26:48.806+10:00For Only Me<div>It is always joy. </div><div>I see his face and I am glowing, aching from not having smiled in joy for so long. </div><div><br></div><div>For a time, I can be lost, naked, and burning, </div><div>wrapped in the softness of his words; </div><div>I am deaf to all else but the tenderness of </div><div>that touch. </div><div><br></div><div>A poem, made for me. </div><div>Made for only me.</div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-86819479302266014192016-08-20T21:24:00.001+10:002016-08-20T21:24:15.504+10:00Time<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It's like a dark corridor, no doors, no lights, </span></div><div>and all you can hear is the sound of your own footsteps. </div><div>Just the constant soft tread as you walk alone, </div><div>down the same, long corridor. </div><div>Over and over again, until it feels like you're walking on the spot. </div><div>Nothing changes. Except you. </div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-42978051035987787872016-08-20T21:22:00.001+10:002016-08-20T21:22:03.465+10:00A Girl and Her Guitar<div>Sometimes I think I went a little too far,</div><div>From everything that used to be </div><div>A girl and her guitar;</div><div>Ridin' with the wind, a Little Wing,</div><div>A Highway Chile,</div><div>Just playing my way down </div><div>The long and lonely mile,</div><div>And carrying nothing with me,</div><div>But my guitar, my heart and my smile.... </div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-52311530356634928682016-08-20T21:20:00.001+10:002016-08-20T21:20:08.243+10:00In A WordSoft simple words. <div>As though the words that he used were to touch my skin, </div><div>the same gentleness of his hands, his caress, his lips.. </div><div>A slow-burning desire that, in moments, broke apart walls that had taken years to build....</div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-109927471067337862016-07-03T09:23:00.001+10:002016-07-03T09:23:29.198+10:00On A ShelfAnd when the time came<div>That they were no longer needed,</div><div>She wrapped up her affections </div><div>Carefully</div><div>In soft silk and ribbon,</div><div>And put them quietly away</div><div>Next to the shoebox of postcards </div><div>From nowhere,</div><div>And the Scrabble box </div><div>With six letters missing. </div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-27571301025948295342016-05-12T16:14:00.001+10:002016-05-12T16:14:43.852+10:00For Love<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Of all the roles I have had to play,</span></div><div>My favourite was, his woman. </div><div>To be the softness that was the core of his heart,</div><div>To be the shore upon which he was the wave,</div><div>To be the comrade in arms in his battles,</div><div>To be the humour of his darkest days,</div><div>To be the hand that sought his in comfort,</div><div>To be the body that he utterly possessed,</div><div>To be the soul of the poem he wanted to write,</div><div>To be the tears he could not weep.</div><div>For the wars and the bloodshed were relentless,</div><div>And the end was nowhere in sight,</div><div>But in my arms and soft songs, he could rest,</div><div>In my dreams, he could take flight. </div><div>It is an art to love one who wants loving,</div><div>Than a love who wants to be rescued. </div><div>It is a dream to be loved by a man with a mission. </div><div>It is an infinite sorrow for the dream to end. </div><div><br></div><div>Yet honour is short in supply, </div><div>And for honour, he left my side. </div><div>But for love, he made no excuses, </div><div>And for love, would have made me his bride. </div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-82391680138658063182016-04-13T23:45:00.001+10:002016-04-13T23:45:03.412+10:00That Place<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOozpyBRtsHMPMq_epsYc9j7eEPYJkc8uva2R0FtgEo98cF4Nj_S84v6pUdDBv745euERNwDtj14_niYscW2BztvAuqtbjIMdWyVrH8n_uHPAFOrNuZdiCh64x9xfRTD3ooJUjbs4g7bla/s640/blogger-image-555174434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOozpyBRtsHMPMq_epsYc9j7eEPYJkc8uva2R0FtgEo98cF4Nj_S84v6pUdDBv745euERNwDtj14_niYscW2BztvAuqtbjIMdWyVrH8n_uHPAFOrNuZdiCh64x9xfRTD3ooJUjbs4g7bla/s640/blogger-image-555174434.jpg"></a></div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-61492629850998439082016-04-09T22:54:00.001+10:002016-04-09T22:54:02.289+10:00The Ghosts of My Soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpVxgomMEj55WoQWCv5kVI0tVs_EbhBp6QK2dplmMahe58719xVso60UTvbe9gKcR3uGigqk1ZB6SIP9kuH2qT_OyVJpyFmhEgU3O8WiXD71UMqB_TCODjpdDxHvjhZtDiKiDM6Jbndiy/s640/blogger-image-1898525771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpVxgomMEj55WoQWCv5kVI0tVs_EbhBp6QK2dplmMahe58719xVso60UTvbe9gKcR3uGigqk1ZB6SIP9kuH2qT_OyVJpyFmhEgU3O8WiXD71UMqB_TCODjpdDxHvjhZtDiKiDM6Jbndiy/s640/blogger-image-1898525771.jpg"></a></div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1543554247813062670.post-4429869703107018322016-03-05T23:07:00.001+11:002016-03-05T23:07:44.169+11:00Banishing Silence<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsi5tyA8bgbRuubof0d0_CHK07Eq7pKQKS1BJHa1EApBxxgQOw2Jt28SOc-n59MQea99Vvq9RYVnDKn-ayOuBgpX2lsiQIJFHRhZgSJEpTxH20z-iGWCMBBXeQ_Hf_rS1YsM2BRmgp6qX5/s640/blogger-image-150781494.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsi5tyA8bgbRuubof0d0_CHK07Eq7pKQKS1BJHa1EApBxxgQOw2Jt28SOc-n59MQea99Vvq9RYVnDKn-ayOuBgpX2lsiQIJFHRhZgSJEpTxH20z-iGWCMBBXeQ_Hf_rS1YsM2BRmgp6qX5/s640/blogger-image-150781494.jpg"></a></div>Zian Silverwolfhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05161760283318061423noreply@blogger.com