Features July 31st 2011

My theme for this week is women and winged creatures (e.g. birds and butterflies). No particular reason except that after more than one image I liked contained these elements I decided to continue in the same vein. Enjoy!


Butterfly
by fotowagner


Hope
by Elvenspot


Those Watchful Eyes
by Matteo Pontonutti


Branwen
by MoonSpiral


The Owl Lady’s Midnight
by MaureenTillman


The Crow Knows
by MaureenTillman

 
Girl with Magpie
by Sybille Sterk


there was a girl ..
by Alenka Co


COLOUR IS THE BEST FRIEND OF BEAUTY
by GittiArt


Keep Dreaming
by AngiandSilas


So Close…
by Sandra Bauser Digital Art

From Rebecca Tun

Features 19th December 2010

This weekend has been all about snow, at least here in the UK. Every surface is coated in a generous, perfecting layer of soft but brilliant whiteness, and the air is light and sharp and unforgiving. For a photographer it presents lots of new challenges, not least of which is trying to persuade people to model for you outside! Anyway the features for this week are all about white, calm and cold. I’ve put images and pieces of writing together in pairs that I think reflect each other.

Landscape in Blueby Caroline Lembke
Landscape in Blue

the cold by hollyann
why is it
that the sky
so pristine blue
looks cleaner with cold

so clean
so bright
so silent night
all is calm
all is right

why is it
that i feel
anticipation
in the midst
of the season
of death
the dying
of the year
maybe the dying
of old unnecessary
fears

the cold
slows
our blood
slows our
movements
makes us stay in
makes us face
what little we have
left

so clean
so bright
so silent night
all is calm
all is right

the cold
makes us generate
warmth

Aphrodite by Donna Ingham
Aphrodite by Donna Ingham

Icicles by Sybille Sterk
It’s quiet
No words just shards
Dripping from my lips
Like icicles
Falling down
Making a pretty sound
But no sense
That springs to mind
Just drip-drop-dripping
Onto the page
Forming strange shapes
Like frost flowers
Painted by a mad elf
Words that sometimes
Come gently
Just drip-drop-dripping
Onto the page
Making patterns
Clearing the mind
Now they are frozen
Just cold and hard
Spiky shapes
Unwieldy and resisting
Just drip-drop-dripping
From my frozen mind
Holding no relief
Giving no sustenance
Just drip-drop-dripping
Like icicles
Falling down
Just drip-drop-dripping
Making a pretty sound
But no sense.

____________
© Sybille Sterk

The story of frozen dreams by dorina costras
The story of frozen dreams by dorina costras

Child with skin made of stars by Kristin Reynolds
We are not lost—one
within the other,
our lines are their own,
hung
from side by side stars, riding
a sky made of earth
whispered
with ancestor’s feet.

We are love,
cradled
within love’s womb

shining from the inside out.

© Kristin Reynolds 12 1 2010

sanctuary by David M collab with autumnwind
sanctuary by autumnwind

the stone of you by robin ellen lucas
i fell asleep
with you
holding you tight
eyes closing
with a smile
your mystical roots
fears no more.

in the morning
you were still there
my hands in stillness
enclosing you
you whispered a secret…
you slept with
my magic

r.e.l. 4/27/10

Sierra by Zuzana D Photography
Sierra by Zuzana D Photography

Cumulus (The Gathering) by James Watson
You are the vapor
And I am the condenser
Come gather to me

Silence #3 by gnolan
Silence #3 by gnolan

To Hear Love by Rhenastarr
To hear love
Be Still
Listen with your heart
Sometimes it is but a whisper

Features for November 14, 2010

There are two ways of spreading light – to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it. ~Edith Wharton.

Giving love to our hosts/bloggers. A lot of hard work goes into Touched By Fire, both the group and the blog. Like you, each of our co-hosts have lives outside of the bubble… families, jobs, and responsibilities. Yet, they always find time to devote to our blog and group, sharing gratitude, encouragement, and support with all of us without hesitation. I can’t express how much our little group of volunteers continue to encourage and wow me with their generosity and friendship to keep this blog buzzing along.

These wonderful people are also artists in their own right. In fact, it was their role and quality as artists that made me ask each of them to join TBF. I love the variety of styles, media, and ‘flavor’ that everyone brings to the table, and to see how that affects their choices in features and blog posts.

Touched by Fire, the blog, is nearing it’s 1 year anniversary. I wanted to take a moment this week to celebrate our co-hosts as artists and allow them to get some basking in the limelight they, without complaint, bestow upon all of you. I have chosen to showcase different pieces on the blog than on the features page, simply because I wanted to give their work more exposure than is allotted by the features page. Duffboy, MagpieMagic, Moonspiral, Rebecca Tun, lroof, and Linaji – I wholeheartedly celebrate each of you as amazing artists, incredible co-hosts and bloggers, and especially dear friends.

Duffboy
Duff was one of my first co-hosts and he has stuck by me through thick and thin. He really helped me give this blog a great running leap and was always entertaining us with terrific posts, tidbits, and helpful information. I first came across Duff as a writer. His ability to evoke sharp-shooting emotions within just a few lines really grabbed me. He’s a man of many talents, including photography and film-making.  Here are a few pieces of Duffboy:


Echo
I’m your alternate ending
the button you
should’ve pushed
21 flavors in a single
cup.

I’m the passerby
who dialed 911
mystery man, scape goat
a bomb.

I’m the right words
to say when you need
to seduce, snake charmer,
whenever you must perform
spread legs forgery.

I’m the echo, the real deal
a surface just cleaned.

MagpieMagic
Sybille, otherwise known as MagpieMagic, is a photo manipulator of the otherworldly kind. I have been following her work since I first joined the bubble. Explore beyond her redbubble portfolio and you will find she is a creative in every sense of the world; her own blogs and websites display an array of beautiful things, jewelry, crocheting, writing, knick knacks, handbags, to name a few. She has also helped keep the blog a buzz with her features and giving spirit. Please enjoy a little bit of MagpieMagic:

The Secret Keeper
He stood in the dark wood, doubtfully looking at the moon through the trees. He shivered in the cold air. Before he had time to consider his choices and give in to his fears she stood before him.

Her hair was long and shimmered blue in the light of the moon. Ribbons were tied in it, each with a key at the end of it.

“You are the Secret Keeper?” he asks her.

She nods.

He pulls a blue silk ribbon and a key out of his pocket and shows them to her.

“Any questions before we proceed?” she says with a low, soft voice.

He thinks for a moment, “Will my secret be safe with you? A lot of lives depend on it.”

“Of course”, she replies with certainty, “I am the Secret Keeper.”

He pointedly looks at the discoloured and scarred flesh of her shoulder. “Are you sure? Even under torture?”

She smiles and a soft green glow appears in her eyes, “Yes, I am sure. Even under torture, maybe especially under torture. This”, she looks at her shoulder, “happened a long time ago, when I was a new keeper and didn’t know my power yet. Do you want to change your mind?”

He shakes his head. “What happens now?”

She holds her hand out and after a moment of confusion, he gives her the ribbon and the key.

With another of her little smiles she leans forward. He whispers the secret into her ear, breathing in the scent of her, earth, smoke and a flowers whilst he does so. It makes him feel light headed. He finishes the telling and takes a step back, watching her as she ties the ribbon into her hair and attaches the key to its end.

“That’s it?” he wants to know.

“Yes, that’s it, no more is required. Your secret will be safe with me.”

“What happens if I ever need the secret back?” he queries.

“I’ll find you.”

“How will you find me? I could be anywhere.”

She laughs, and with a mocking tone in her voice she replies, “The same way I found you today. I will know if and when you need me. There is a connection between us now anyway”, she said.

“But how will you know which secret it is?” he asks curiously.

“I am the Secret Keeper and in my presence each secret will always know it’s owner” ,she explains and pulls on one of the ribbons. A key shimmers in the moonlight. He recognises the swirls and curls at the top of the key as the one he has given her.

Her dignity and serenity surprise him. She seems very young for such a responsibility.

“Is it difficult carrying all these secrets?” he wonders.

“Sometimes”, she agrees and then, almost inaudible, “they whisper to me, late at night”, and in a normal voice she continues, “you are full of questions, aren’t you? Remember, curiosity killed the cat.”

He grins, “It’s what I do, ask questions. How did you become a keeper of secrets, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“If I told you that”, she laughs at the look on his face, “you’d have to take over. Are you ready for that?”

He shakes his head and raises his hands, “No, thank you. My job is difficult enough.” He takes a step back to make his point.

“Our business is finished then. Unless you have more questions?” she asks him with a mocking smile.

He shakes his head again. “No, no, we’re done.”

She smiles, “So be it then.”

“Take care of yourself”, he tells her.

For the first time surprise shows on her face. “I will take care of your secret, don’t worry.”

“I am sure you will, but that’s not what I meant. Take care of yourself. I wouldn’t like to see you hurt.”

“Thank you”, she smiles, but this time the smile lights up her face and he finally sees that she is beautiful, scarred shoulder notwithstanding. His fear leaves him and he smiles back at her. He is tempted to ask her something else just to keep her here with him a little longer.

“One last question?” he asks giving in to temptation.

She nods, amused by his curiosity.

“What happens if I die? What happens to the secret I mean?”

“The ribbon and key will crumble to dust and the secret will die with you.”

“Good. That’s very good.”

“Goodbye, be safe”, she says and when he looks up she is gone. There is a tinkling sound as of metal clinking against metal, but then that fades, too.

He stares for a moment at the place where she stood before him, then turns around and finds the path back to the city, his heart a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

___________
© Sybille Sterk

Moonspiral
Tammy Mae is a deep and loving artist that I have adored for some time. Her stunning paintings, women and goddesses with deeply expressive eyes and emotions, typically represent deep-level subconscious or spiritual conveyances. Her work blows me away every time. Enjoy a little glimpse of her stunning work:


Rebecca Tun
Rebecca’s photography won me over from first glance. Just one look at her portfolio and there is no doubt she will go far in the photography world. She is also a model and you may find her in some of her own, and others, work. Her work always focuses on the emotion of her subject along with storytelling. Please enjoy a few pieces of her work:


lroof
I came across Lauren through the homepage layout forum on redbubble. I loved her keen eye for great work, and especially for her ability to put together a collection of pieces that look great together. She is a budding photographer with a youthful, whimsical style that I adore. She’s one of the new kids on the block and came on board specifically to help me out with some of the things I stopped having time for, and of course I love her for it! Please enjoy a few of her fabulous photos:


Linaji
Seriously, is there someone on redbubble that doesn’t know Linaji? Photography, digital painting, storytelling, poetry, and not to be overlooked, her enthusiastic support to everyone else’s work. It’s no secret that Lina is a dear friend of mine, but truth is when I first started TBF I asked her to join me, but with commitments to many other groups she declined my invitation…. for a year. However, I’m a persistent little squirrel so I kept squeaking away at her until she finally had room in her life to be a part of us. Lina is seriously one of the very first persons that I ‘followed’ on the bubble. I found her because of her writing but also appreciated her visual art as well. I love the way Lina’s written word gets a hold of my insides and squeezes them until I gasp.. and the way she is constantly forging new paths in her photography and digital painting. Enjoy a few wonderful pieces of Linaji:

Your Pearls
We were waiting together
The lines of communication were all out
Wired up to find the sound of hearts like our own
Grey matter silver lined clouds
Amassing in the south
Waiting it seemed to rain on our parade.

However, we then looked toward each other
Our peaceful conversation seemed endless
And In our connection
There grew a peerless strength
Within each of us as we remembered
the world was our oyster.
It was then I began to feed you the pearls you were wearing
You took each one with a sensual understanding I cannot
quite describe except to say
I was in awe
My hands touched your skin like raw silk
Smiling you said you liked the itch of remembering with hands like mine
You liked the connection
As did I
And soon we forgot
How painful growing up can be.

Linaji 2009

Love each one of you,
PJ Djennel, aka ShadowDancer

Fancy free: the outdoor nude, challenge winners

Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, there is not one, but two winners in our latest challenge (which aimed at capturing the freedom of the naked human form outside an enclosed environment): Jessica Walker and MagpieMagic. Both artworks are incredibly representative of a timeless beauty. We urge you to visit the artists’s profiles and discover the rest of their amazing work.

Nimph by Jessica Walker

I Want to Be by MagpieMagic

The Dreamy MagpieMagic

Sybille, otherwise known as MagpieMagic, is a very prolific artist. She churns out fantastic art pieces, one after the other, hosts her own blog, writes, creates magnificent jewelry, knitting, and wire crocheting, just to name a few. I’m excited to announce she has joined the ranks of a TBF Host & Blogger to help spread the flames of touched by fire.

Here are a few of my favorite things created by this dreamy and oh-so-talented artist:

The Secret Keeper

He stood in the dark wood, doubtfully looking at the moon through the trees. He shivered in the cold air. Before he had time to consider his choices and give in to his fears she stood before him.

Her hair was long and shimmered blue in the light of the moon. Ribbons were tied in it, each with a key at the end of it.

“You are the Secret Keeper?” he asks her.

She nods.

He pulls a blue silk ribbon and a key out of his pocket and shows them to her.

“Any questions before we proceed?” she says with a low, soft voice.

He thinks for a moment, “Will my secret be safe with you? A lot of lives depend on it.”

“Of course”, she replies with certainty, “I am the Secret Keeper.”

He pointedly looks at the discoloured and scarred flesh of her shoulder. “Are you sure? Even under torture?”

She smiles and a soft green glow appears in her eyes, “Yes, I am sure. Even under torture, maybe especially under torture. This”, she looks at her shoulder, “happened a long time ago, when I was a new keeper and didn’t know my power yet. Do you want to change your mind?”

He shakes his head. “What happens now?”

click here to read the full story

Nymph by MagpieMagicSoulscape by MagpieMagicBlossom by MagpieMagic

Please visit her site on redbubble, her blog, and her etsy shop for more of her fabulous stuff. I’m excited for everyone to get to know her as she contributes to our fun group.

This week’s features (2)

 Hello internet world! Are you feeling like some art & poetry? Here’s the second installment of this week’s features. Enjoy!

The Secret Keeper by MagpieMagic

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Broken Bodies Have No Rythm,
Broken Minds Have No Ryhme

by WhoDini

“I just can’t do it” she said to herself, “It hurts too much. I don’t think I can move.”

Having given up on the feat of befitting herself, she resigned to her bed where she remained stagnated for hours. The previous day she had worked-out so hard that reality pummeled her awareness with the insidious truths of her decline from wellbeing. Now, under duress, she lay helpless on one of the many instigators which mirrors her state. A prisoner of futility. An exile of her own desires. What hope she held dear has been dissipated by personal injury.

“I’m not as young as I used to be,” she thought to herself.

In fact, it was her complacent position in her own life which lead to this and deep down, she knew it. An excuse to give up was in order, however. After all, there is an abundance of pity to be had. Self inflicted or otherwise, passive acceptance has long since surpassed willful adaptation, which too, she well knew.

“Oh, well.” she sighed, “At least I tried.”

Shrugging off her efforts in an attempt to get on with life, she slowly arises and hobbles out of the bedroom to sit on the couch and watch T.V.

The Traveller by Angel Gold

Spock’s Vision by Misty Lackey

Misunderstood like a sour apple needs seed.
Broken like a rag doll needs arms.
Driving like a wheel on the road.
Cold like the warm sun.
Withered like a flower on wet snow.
Digested like a stomach without food.
Destroyed like the twin towers located in
New York City.
Bended and torn like a sideways train.
Wasted material for the left brain.
On-board this madness the butterfly dwells.
Captivating colors webs of enchanted dance.
Where am I? This girl calls herself the bee
she swims on my words vacationing for
honey built like a mechanical bomb
ready to expose the truth.
Let there be life beyond the stars
glows time countless space I know.

Not a Care in the World by phatpuppy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The love has gone by Tatiana Kurnosova

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Broken by
Randy Monteith

a pear in love by Ingz

TBF Group Features – Week of March 7, 2010

“A work of art is a world in itself reflecting senses and emotions of the artist’s world.” Hans Hoffman

Michelle, ma bell by Sophie-Berger

A POEM’S ESSENCE by Cosimopiro

If every poem ever written,
since the first scratch
chiselled in rock,
was placed in a wizards pot
and
boiled down
to one last syllable,
can one single grain,
lone letter,
a poem be,
capturing essence
and
feelings
or
does it need company
to give it more meaning?
Can “I”
stand alone
and be read
with self satisfaction
or does it need “YOU”
to stand beside
for conviction
and
recognition?

A breeze came through by Vicki Griffiths

I never could pull off a good poker face by Lisa Jewell

There is no pretence in being contradictory. If I travel from the east then shift course and hitch a ride on the back of the west wind, am I a free spirit or am I flighty? I can wake with my shattered heart curled up next to me; then the very next morning, I have to tightly hold the string of my balloon heart, so it won’t escape out the bedroom window. How is this possible? How can one heart behave in such contradictory ways? My cave is cosy and deep within its walls I feel bliss, but I would be remiss in not confessing. I do long to be held and kissed for a lifetime of hours.

Sense by Manoyla F.

Praestus Proboscis by ianez

snap.

snap.

snap.

snap.
my fingerprints a linger,
upon each shiny little culet.
fondle, then press __ snap…
each pearl so perfectly fits.

your scent has perfected its continuity.
brushing of itself amidst my olfactory.
bringing with it hints of your palms,
pressed paralax to this she.
to me.

© Jorjia Ianez

Fragments by Elox

Soul by Bill Bell

By the sunshine
in the narrow crack below the blinds
I’d judge that I’m late for something
reaching down I find the sheets
and go back to sleep
Then I don’t know
if I’m dreaming in the twilight
people come and go
some I haven’t seen in years
I guess they’re dead to you
out of sight and out of mind until
you either find them in the obituaries
or knocking at your door
between the planes of interpretation
at the edge of the morning light
trying to be real
trying to extend the story
trying to be something more
then merely soul.

I saw her in the grocery store
coming up the cereal aisle
no older then she had been before
until we were upon one another
then she aged in an instant except for a smile
she’d kept intact then built experience around.
She had two grown children and one in high school
she patted me on the arm and walked away
shedding time as she went an old ache
blossomed and died.

Theres a piano playing
someone left the radio on
the voice of John Lennon singing Imagine.
Clouds streaming over
days on rented beaches
feverish whispers on summer nights
with the windows open
hearing other peoples conversations
no different then your own
there’s a muted piano playing
someone left the radio on.

I rolled over on my left shoulder
noticing I was alone without opening my eyes
the void is warm and I go down again
Standing at a bus station
my father extends his hand to shake
and I hesitate
knowing we will meet again under different rules.
Hold on tight
give a firm handshake
your interpretations of other peoples thoughts
are only by accident right
do it for yourself and the rest will turn out
said a voice already in my head.

Trying ot extend the story
trying to become something more
then merely soul
they’ve forgotten what they were
they merely hearten on
an echo
catch me on the dew point of morning
half awake
turn the radio on softly
see what comes to visit.

Alice in Wonderland – 20 years later by MagpieMagic

dear friend… by Siki Dlanga

let them rip your skin,
let them rip your clothes,
let them rip, let them rip.
the cells will grow back the skin you lost
you will have better clothes
but don’t let them rip your heart….
if that does happens,
if at all it does!
then know this;
there is an everlasting promise
of a brand new heart
and that one cannot be touched
by any vile thing.

(c) siki dlanga
05.03.2010

almost up close and personal by wildwomenlove

Where did our love go? by Laurie Search

TBF Group Writing Features week of February 21, 2010

I’m so excited to blog this weeks writing features for the Touched By Fire Group. This blog post brings a wealth of emotion, inspiration, self-examination, and moments frozen in time.

First of all I have to say that I’m a huge fan of Faith’s painting and art, and didn’t realize she was also a poet. Her paintings have such vivid color and emotion and power embedded within them, and you will find by reading her featured poem she paints the same emotions with her pen. I felt empowered after reading this piece. Each time I read it I found different ways to take the words that she strung together. One thing is for sure, she let lose and the rain fell and it was quite a storm.

The Rains by F. Magdalene Austin

You pray and dance your rituals
Created a god to whom you offer sacrifices
In exchange for a promise
That the rain will fall.
For the harvest must be full
And the tide must pull just right.

I could bring in the breeze with a few clouds to break the sun’s sting
Or shower upon a land fire and cut off its hunger for power.
When dry grass gulps from drops that make your windowsills ping
I hear no sigh of relief.
Why did you wait so long?
Why didn’t you save the trees and
Why did you let destruction take so many?

How cramped are the clouds with their tumultuous hordes of
Resentment and disdain that churns into a spring storm
And brings the driving rain.
The roar and lightening gives you a glimpse of what I fully perceive.
Release upon your land is the only way to maintain my sanity.

I’m bound in so many separate places
Across a sky that does not end.
Frightened by fierce rage, my courage is running thin.
The eye of the storm is here
I can’t hold this in.

It is clear I’ll do too little or too much
And some how mess it up.
Heaven cannot hold me, and mere men cannot prevent
The reclaiming of my sanity when I let go and the rains begin.

F. Magdalene
Copyright 2007 © F. Magdalene All rights reserved

Another writer I recently fell in love with is wildwomenlove. This passionate wordsmith lays it all out there with writing full of wit, despair, humor, romance, the list is endless and her writing is fearless. She’s been working on a series with a character you will meet in this feature that has quite the personality. I encourage you to go back and read the rest of the series.

Eloise Le Blue thinks aloud, do you? (part 4) by wildwomenlove

One should never forget to love someone…

Eloise was kicking back and having a glass of red, she loves a good Pinot, or Merlot, or Shiraz in a blend, so long as you couldn’t stand a stick up in it, I mean some red’s are just so full on, don’t you think? Anyhow she was just chilling and she started to thinking about hanging out with friends, and having a good laugh. Eloise snorts when she laughs, she loves to laugh and when she does out come the snorts, like piglets at a trough, which make her and everyone else laugh all the harder, snorting and laughing, snorting and laughing till she’s rolling around holding her stomach. Funny that her favourite song is Babe’s la la la la laaa song, cos she can remember all the words! ha haa haaa snort, ha haa haaa snort.

Well anyway just the other day she was banging away on the keyboard conjuring up a short story, cos she loves to write and it occurred to her that she hadn’t checked her emails, so she logged on to Red Bubble and here was an email from her friend Sudsy Malone, it’s always so cool to hear from Sudsy. Sudsy had been up to some extraordinary mischief, and it occurred to Eloise that it’s so fun to share random concepts with friends of this calibre, so cool. So she banged up a punchy retort, and sent it flying across the ethers, smiling all the wider for her luck in captivating a friend like Suds, woohoo.

Anyway back to Californication, oh sorry we weren’t quite there yet. Eloise loves Californication, not that she gets to see it very often, cos she always forgets what night it’s on, but when she does happen to flick on the television and Hank Moody smiles down at her from it, with his brooding good looks and his designer stubble, she purrs a little purr and settles in to catch a few of his smart arse comments. She so appreciates a good smart arse does Eloise, a funny one, not a pointy one.

Just then Elektra walked in, followed by Elsie and Elvira and one at a time they each jumped up to sit with her on the couch. Elektra jumped onto her lap and immediately started purring, and jabbing and Elsie and Elvira lay together spooning, while they all watched Hank slink out his funky moves. The little tribe cohabited in a purring fest, sharing the love and licking their bits, a lot like Hank really and life was good on Ebenezer Road.

© wildwomenlove stories

clancy214 describes herself as an amateur photographer, singer, writer, and artist. While this poem is untitled and she mentioned it as ramblings, I loved the flow and feelings that drip down each line, rather like taking an evening walk and letting your mind wander. For a wonderful way of taking me on this gradual stroll into the feelings of missing someone and trying to get over them, I was happy to include it in the features.

Untitled by clancy214

and you with your this and that
and here and there
make it hard for me to think about
nothing but you

waking up and falling asleep
and driving
and walking
and writing
and always this constant melody
in the back of my head
singing your presence

so i shift my focus
like they say to do when driving
and those little spots appear before your eyes
but my you spots don’t disappear
they just cloud my vision
and my train of thought
goes off on your track

and i try a little harder
and i keep myself
busy busy busy
so i can hope to remember
to forget
how nice it is when you
are lying next to me

© 2010


Ahhh I do love a good write from Bill Bell. His tender, thoughtful writing never disappoints me. This featured poem is a beautiful write about a moment in time when a person finds themselves in a place of starting over. Such a poignant and moving poem.

Bardo by Bill Bell

A small apartment
found after the relationship
not filled with much furniture
no things to speak of
clothing
a toothbrush
shampoo
survival things mostly.
The view
of the parking lot is peaceful
no arguments or drama
you brought up your boxes
in a state of roaring sadness
but now
even the trees look sublime
everything is new
each breath has a deepness
each smell says hello.

© 2010

MagpieMagic is another multi-talented woman whom I’m so glad to have in our group. She’s a wonder at photo manipulation and obviously quite a writer too. This poem spreads a message about freedom of the spirit, being brave and true to our dreams. A very beautifully written piece with a powerful message.

Join the Revolution by Magpie Magic

As one door closes
another shuts in your face,
your freedom curtailed,
but they always forget
the roof light and
the mouse hole in the skirting board.

Imagination and
the creative spirit
cannot be pinned down,
or filled with lead,
or hanged, or quartered
or buried in the ground.

Snap on your wings
fly in the shadow of the stars
discover the macrocosmos
in the shimmer of a tear
and the microscomos
in the glow of the universe.

The revolution lives
and truth shines in
the light of the moon,
forever in the souls
of those who believe
that there must be more.

You called me monster,
you called me Jezebel,
you called me many things
but my true name
is a secret lodged
in the hearts of the brave.

© Sybille Sterk

Markezz is an inspiration. His poetry always shifts a focus inward, to a point of self-reflection and meditation. This thoughtful piece asks the question – what happens when being true to oneself defies the wants or feelings of those you love? Thought provoking indeed.

INTEGRITY by MarkezzAckui

INTEGRITY

SOME SAY THIS IS DOING THE RIGHT THING
WHEN NO ONE IS LOOKING,

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE RIGHT THING FOR ME
ISN’T WHAT YOU THOUGHT,
WHAT IF MY INTEGRITY DOESN’T FIT INTO YOUR BOX?

IS THIS DEFIANCE,
OR ME BEING SELF RELIANT
AND IN COMPLIANCE
WITH THIS WORD INTEGRITY
AND HOW IT COINCIDES WITH MY MENTALITY
WHY QUESTION MY VISION OF WHAT THIS WORD TRULY MEANS

GOOD IS GOOD
BAD IS BAD

YET THERE’S INTEGRITY IN BOTH THINGS

LACK OF UNDERSTANDING MAKES ONE BELIEVE THAT I WRITE THESE WORDS PURELY TO ENTERTAIN,
THE TRUTH IS THEY KEEP ME SANE
BECAUSE
MY BRAIN
CAN’T CONTAIN
THE STRAIN
NOR THE PAIN….

IT’S INTEGRITY ALL THE SAME.

IF I LACKED IT,
SHIT
WOULD BE TRAJIC.

MARKEZZACKUI©2010

Thanks to each of the writers above for submitting their work to Touched By Fire. I hope everyone enjoyed the thoughts they brought to the page.

Group Challenge Winner – “Bring in the Heat!”

Our “Bring in the Heat” challenge brought in the best of the best when it comes to raw, hot emotions. Thanks to everyone that supported and entered the challenge.

Congrats to MagpieMagic for her winning entry “Heart of Fire” which will now be the avatar for our group.

Here are the remaining top ten pieces.