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Literature
you sit-
you sit on rotting wood with your back to the sun
and you can smell the smells of summer
in that little corner world
the smell of flowers and chlorine and cigarettes
the dryness of that morning
and it will kill you
God, you know that it will kill you
but you breathe it in deep
because a life of shallow breaths is no life
at all
and a life ignoring the things that bind us home
is a little empty
even if in the end they kill us
and surely a death surrounded by the smells of home
is no true death at all
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree 1 2
Literature
unfilled I will remain
unfilled I will remain
empty
a vessel waiting to hold
I am an eager glass
held up against the world
ever empty
and yet full of light
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree 0 0
Literature
You know all the names of the mountains-
You know all the names of the mountains,
Your footprints are soft in the sand,
Your hair, it is cool like the ocean,
Your lips, they were warm on my hand.
You so gently ignited a small fire,
Your arms gathered twigs on the dunes,
Your face, it was turned to the sea-breeze,
My face, it was turned to the moon. 
You sing all the words to an old song,
Your voice rises strong in the sky,
My arms, they wish they could hold you,
As those twigs held the moon, given time. 
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree 1 0
Legume :iconsentienttree:sentienttree 23 14 Knitted Roman Girl :iconsentienttree:sentienttree 5 4 WIP- Mittens :iconsentienttree:sentienttree 11 4
Literature
I lay down-
I lay down in the grass
and slowly realized
just how close the ground is
to the sky. 
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree 9 5
Literature
I am the ship-
I am the ship and you are the keep. 
I am the waves and you are the shore. 
I am the sea and you are the sand. 
I am the water and you are the stones. 
Let me come home, let me wash over you.
Let me pull at you, drag you under. 
Let me come in, let me come home. 
Let me taste land again. 
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree 1 0
Literature
There was a time-
There was a time in my life,
when I was afraid-
and you were there, 
arms open, 
embracing.
There was a time in my life,
when I was silent-
and yet full,
of desperate words teeming to be said-
and you were there,
quiet, waiting, listening.
There was a time in my life,
when I didn't know myself-
and you were there to hold me,
to tell me that no one truly knows themselves,
that you yourself had been lost,
son without a father,
stranger in your homeland,
outcast.
There was a time in my life
when I wished I had your courage-
and you were there,
not to lend me yours-
but to help me 
find my own.
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree 2 0
Sweater!! :iconsentienttree:sentienttree 21 9 Knitted Trilobite :iconsentienttree:sentienttree 24 6 Knitted Italian Renaissance Man :iconsentienttree:sentienttree 36 24
Literature
Winter
Oh, come freeze me, winter winds,
and never let the spring thaw touch my bones. 
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree 2 0
Knitted Horse :iconsentienttree:sentienttree 6 2 Tea-dyed yarn :iconsentienttree:sentienttree 9 8
Literature
I sometimes think-
I sometimes think
when I am with you
(my soft winter forest)
that you feel just as helpless
as I do
when confronted with this breaking, burning world
I come to you for respite
(my soft snow winter friend)
and you so gently offer me
a place to lay myself
down
and then you say
(your ice glistening and your rocks made soft)
that you swept yourself to my doorstep looking for the same
(some solace from this grinding end)
I wish I could
gather you up in my arms
protect you
but I feel sometimes
like the last snowfall of the last winter
melting before I ever touch the ground
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree
:iconsentienttree:sentienttree 2 0

Random Favourites

Literature
Nighttime Ramblings and Insufficiency
You drop your jaw,
and you pull words out from
hiding, deep in your throat.
You wretch up a mass of
unfiltered, unedited, reality
because you believe that's what it is
to be understood.
You leave a trail of mutterings
wherever you go
       no one will ever want me
       it's not enough
       and i'm sorry,  i'm
       so so sorry
Do you remember the difference between
a shadow and a ghost? (the world ends
the day the sun won't shine)
Instead of sleeping (maybe
tomorrow won't come if you
don't say goodnight) you wait;
you will not be remembered, and
that is the scariest part-
you were never loud enough.
       i'm so sorry
The night presses too hard,
pulling you down, even though
you plead for one more day to prove
you aren't just passing through.
   In the margins, you breathe:
 
:iconintricately-ordinary:intricately-ordinary
:iconintricately-ordinary:intricately-ordinary 36 43
Something is staring at the owl :iconphalalcrocorax:phalalcrocorax 170 29
Mature content
FANART FRIDAY: SAILOR TWAIN :iconjakewyatt:JakeWyatt 1,826 103
Spindrift, chapter1 page43 (no txt version) :iconelsakroese:ElsaKroese 65 17
Literature
Bits of Nothing 61
On paper you're perfect.
Isn't it a shame the world isn't made of origami?
:iconef-barber:ef-barber
:iconef-barber:ef-barber 261 86
Ye Olde Dancing Game Machine :iconshiningamimaxwell:ShiningamiMaxwell 2,833 240
Literature
True Beauty.
To describe true beauty itself,
I'd need a hundred lines.
I could show you my moon and stars
could make love and hate collide.
But true beauty lives deep within,
sometimes more beautiful then it's ever been.
More than you could ever show
  
        Unless you just let it flow..
          through your body
          through your soul
          through everything you own.
Until the only thing that's left
is a heart
without any regret.
:iconLikeDustIllRise:LikeDustIllRise
:iconlikedustillrise:LikeDustIllRise 3 11
Literature
Awkward Small Talk
Awkward small talk hurts my ears
Screaming, scratching, clawing, crying,
"Let me out!, let me out!"
I need to break free from the chains holding these cursed words back.
I hate you, I love you
I don't even know what to feel.
You taste me, you tease me
Abuse me and leave me for dead
I want it, I need it
I need it
I need your love,
your poison.
I need the fighting, the
harsh words of
hatred.
Your hate.
I don't even know what to feel.
Awkward small talk hurts my ears
And I hate seeing you in public
In private
In my dreams.
I hate you.
I'll never want you,
not again.
Awkward small talk hurts my ears and
it hurts my heart to see you with her
and it hurts my eyes to stare into yours.
Your merciless,
chocolate,
pretty-boy eyes.
Eyes that tore open my soul and never looked back
not once did you
care,
love,
need,
or give a
fuck
about me.
Now,
The awkward small talk that fills my ears
fills my head
my brain
my thoughts
of you.
"How've you been?"
"Good."
No thanks to you.
Now I think of how much
:iconDallasInWonderland:DallasInWonderland
:icondallasinwonderland:DallasInWonderland 3 0
Literature
poem
look
look
look
at these
words and 
the way
i arrange them
look
at the deliberate 
lower case 
which i once saw 
in 
the notebook
of a melodramatic
friend
and thought 
it looked artsy
 
look
at my deliberate lack
of all 
punctuation
(save for the 
occasional emphatic 
set of 
parentheses)
which helps to mask
the fact
that i am not
quite certain
where it ought to go
look
at the abrupt 
ends
of my lines
and the enforced
enjambment 
(at least
i suppose that
should be 
the term)
that does not 
perfectly 
hide the inherent 
choppiness
look
i say
look 
on this poem
and call it art
call it deep
wonderful
acknowledge me
and my work
though
i admit 
it really is 
rather awful
that is not 
the point
i am young
i will learn
if now
while i angst
in the typical
teenage fashion
i know
that i may write
i may share
a minuscule measure 
of beauty
from pain
and somewhere
somebody 
:iconInsertEpicName-here:InsertEpicName-here
:iconinsertepicname-here:InsertEpicName-here 9 9
Literature
Bury Your Soul Six Feet Under
Don't be afraid to kick-start it.
Set those cleated rotting boots behind that panel. The one with the green sheen of corrosion.
Literally. It'll break you before you'll break it. Take that from someone who's broken more than a few toes from all these years off the beaten path. The soul goes before anything else in this dripping grey mireland.
Wrong word. Woodland. Except the evergreens have melted their needles to corrosive sludge long ago. Don't think that they're coming back.
There. Hear that sputtering? Don't go warming your hands; those are ethanol fumes. Among other things. Charcoal. Traces of gasoline; more precious than anything you'll strip from the warehouse down the main drag.
Trust me. Been doing this for a while. The bomb didn't do us in, not like the backwoods gentry with the double barrels and blasphemies; all smiles and scattershot.
Don't question me and I won't question the impossibility of your sweating putrid life. How a strung out city boy wandered along a thousand d
:iconDodgingTheBeat:DodgingTheBeat
:icondodgingthebeat:DodgingTheBeat 3 0
Literature
The Last Song
Do you think we'll get a last song?
I'm not sure.  This diary I'm writing in is full of holes.  It's sopping like a wet sponge.  It reeks, but what doesn't in the filth and the mess?
Storm's passing.  Not like I've ever seen here.  Even the explosive storms of my youth; running in the fields, the junkyards, the rust-ravaged train tracks of old wasn't quite like this.  
Something's exploded against the skyline.  Orange is reflecting off the glass; the spider-striped, near shattered glass I kicked two weeks ago while mowing the grass.
It might be the gas works.  Or the chemical sheds.  Weyrdstorms do this, you know.  That's what the warnings said.  Electricity and chaos and hellish atomic confusion mixed into an atmospheric slurry and let to rage.  I ask the question because music's the one thing I'm yearning for right now.  It settles me, helps me think.  Always has, though keeping my sister's sniveling furthest from my head might be an ulterior motive.
Do I think I'm escaping this plac
:iconDodgingTheBeat:DodgingTheBeat
:icondodgingthebeat:DodgingTheBeat 133 40
Literature
free agent
well she
told me
that she'd vanish
into the forest
for four years
to be-
come some secret dream
a si-
lent specter who'd
someday
reappear
to collect
all conscious thought
wanted or not
in the solitude
that shadows
brought
but still
burned bright
this tiny light
who taught my
dark
about her
night
and so I
made her name
the only
whispered word
our time would hear
and I dis-
played
only privately
the images
between my ears
yet the moon
often makes possible
one who
breathes
for two
or
orphans
proper principle
the way
that
lovers sometimes do
and we do
and we do
(we doot-doot-do)
oh! and dreams
can too
oh! what dreams
can do
to who dreams
for two
who dreams dreams
of you
:iconYouInventedMe:YouInventedMe
:iconyouinventedme:YouInventedMe 260 184
King Arthur :iconcookiemagik:CookiemagiK 3,161 582
Mature content
Necrophilia :icona-lovely-anxiety:A-Lovely-Anxiety 307 232
Literature
The Waste World
She said create the world, so I did. I made it dark and dusty, coughed up from my own black lungs. I gave the trees an ashen hue and the ground a color to match the starless sky. The creatures were murmuring oozes, globs of drying acrylic that inked across the orb of my bubbling imagination.
Repulsing, it was in fact the product of an industrial mind. I was born from man's smog goddess and, if memory serves me, her breath was laced in exhaust which I inhaled nightly with her songs. She was soothing and complacent, her voice smokey like a hazy bar. No one could deny her features were hideous beyond belief. Her skin dripped pollution like morphine into veins, into deep red rivers to turn them ebony and clogged. Her eyes glistened obsidian, sharp and cold if you didn't know her at all. I knew she was lost and ashamed, as her mother, my grandmother, would often remind her of the destruction her presence caused. I loved her like grandmother nature never could.
Grandmother was ,indeed, a gra
:icon0hgravity:0hgravity
:icon0hgravity:0hgravity 317 194
Wunderful art.

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sentienttree
Of no importance.
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
:heart: A cane non magno saepe tenetur aper. :heart:

This is rather an eclectic account.
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Oh wow oh wow!!!
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So word on the street is that JRR Tolkien's translation of Beowulf in going to be published in MAY. Anyone else very excited?? Tolkien borrowed so much from Beowulf in his writing that it'll be really interesting to see how he translates it directly. I'm also very interested to see how he handles Grendel's mother.... :P
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:iconkostaschicken:
kostaschicken Featured By Owner Jul 13, 2014
Thanks for the fav.
Reply
:iconsophiaazhou:
sophiaazhou Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2014
thank you for adding An overwhelming gravity of ideas to your +favorites;
it's one of my personal favorites too, so I appreciate it very, very much. :heart:

An overwhelming gravity of ideas by sophiaazhou
Reply
:iconsentienttree:
sentienttree Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
you're welcome!
Reply
:iconmis-teria90:
mis-teria90 Featured By Owner May 16, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
and watching xD I have to take a look at your gallery as well
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:iconmis-teria90:
mis-teria90 Featured By Owner May 16, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
 wow! thanks for Llama :Shakefist:
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:iconcricketumpire:
cricketumpire Featured By Owner May 3, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for faving the playful otters in "Let's sweet talk & play fight..."     :+fav:
    :iconthankuplz:...and thank you for sharing the enjoyment sentienttree:iconflowerthnxplz:
                               Please do keep on watching???
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:iconlidiavives:
LidiaVives Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2014  Professional Photographer
thx for the fav!! :D <3

if you like my work you can follow me on facebook: www.facebook.com/lidiavivespho…

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:iconsergiba:
Sergiba Featured By Owner Apr 5, 2014
Thanks for the fav! :D
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:icontofe-lai:
Tofe-lai Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2014  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
thank you for the fav :3
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:iconmakilotus:
MakiLotus Featured By Owner Mar 9, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
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