Untitled Moscow

// The contribution//

Her bones were bent ‘round and through the roots of the 300 year oak. It wasn’t until this year’s storm blasted the ground with lightening that the tree was lifted from its bed.

Before that storm… children danced around the tree. Hugged it … carved their initials and tied it every season with a yellow ribbon. My great great great grand mother was there when the seedling was first impregnated into the soil. After a time her daughter could be seen dodging her own pretended covering of eyes … counting, sometimes by twos then yelling - “ready or not … here i come!”

Whose skeletal remains did now meet the sun? Was it their sacrafice that allowed the timber to prosper so? Was it the odd nature of decay that called forth begging for ribbons and the hope of young love? Was it the spirit of a life not fully lived that endorsed such a source of strength for an entire lineage?

The bones malformed throughout the long years. Enough, as to disallow the scientific recreation of societal identity.

All that remains are the memories of young love and littlens pretending to count each and every number by ones. Or so it is told by the neighborhood gossips.

Plans are to bring in another seedling next Spring. Perhaps my daughter will next contribute to the story of the new Grand Oak tree. One; hopefully, that may not cry for the blood of her elders.

January 4, 2013
Laura Greenbacker

Clint Irwin: Mad World: Give Me a Bell


I wanted a bell, like the ones they say were mounted above graves in a time before you could be sure someone was dead when you buried them. I wanted a rope threaded down through the dirt into the coffin so I could ring for help. I wanted a bell when she buried me in her cancer…

Simply beautiful.

The power within us all.

The power within us all.

// Architect//

In the Heavens
an Angel sits
angrily sharpening
ice into bits

It is God
who set me on this task
to sculpt my frozen heart
so others upon it may bask

“Look at them down there
they think they are so smart
melting my perfect sculptures
with their warm imperfect hearts.

I send the land to slumber
and blanket it with snow
then they flap upon it
and mock my image so.

When the ice runs dry
they will learn
for the sky will fog
and their skin will burn.”

I need finer instruments
to orchestrate my design
to dissect intricate filaments
transform me - ornately divine

With a surgeon’s skill
I’ve carved all season long
what will we do
when I am gone?
February 7, 2011 — Laura Greenbacker

// Like/Reblog this if you are a writer. //


You will be added to THIS list where fellow writers can find you.

(via clintirwin)

Sarah: Give me the child.

Jareth: Sarah, beware. I have been generous, up until now. But I can be cruel.

Sarah: (disbelieving) Generous? What have you done that’s generous?

Jareth: Everything! Everything that you wanted, I have done! You asked that the child be taken - I took him. You cowered before me - I was frightening. I have reordered time, I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you! I am exhausted from living up to your expectations of me. Isn’t that generous?

Sarah: (dreamily) Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered… I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the goblin city… For my will is as strong as yours… and my kin-

Jareth: Stop! Wait. Look, Sarah, look what I’m offering. (he holds out the crystal) Your dreams!

Sarah: (undeterred) And my kingdom as great…

Jareth: I ask for so little. Just let me rule you, and you can have everything that you want. Sarah: Kingdom as great… … damn… I can never remember that line.

Jareth: Just fear me - love me - do as I say, and I will be your slave!

Sarah: My kingdom as great… my kingdom as great… (she looks at him, inspired) You have no power over me!

By far
the finest tumblr
theme ever
by a crazy man
in Russia