CyneNoir

so it goes

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we are all going forward by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

we are all going forward

imagine this: your life strung out on a line, on a series of lines. the sum of you peeled apart and dissected and laid bare. imagine your memories radiating endlessly outward, glasslike and glowing, making crystalline patterns of sunshine and dust. these patterns making cracks behind your eyes. each crack leaking dreams. imagine yourself and your body and at the center of it a circle of constant light. (you are standing in the circle. the light is blinding.) imagine time forgetting to breathe. the supple darkness between its heart and lungs suddenly expanding past eternity. billowing outward, coiling. not a stutter but a pause. a space ju

Dionysus by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

Dionysus

I see how you are shaken by a mad fever, Dionysus. You tremble in the moonlight's gleaming nectar as does a new, loose-limbed fawn, heady with a foreign ecstasy that runs heavily through your veins. Your dance is a bright and glowing beast that rattles the world to its bones. I can feel it: the stirring storm; the spark scuttling just beneath the earth; the violent wind that scrapes soil from its gaping mouth. Oh! How the night is a-quiver with wanting when you sing. In the distance a cricket scrapes together its wings; strikes a low hum in its paper-thin breast as it wrings rivers from the clustered bodies of grapes. The stars turn violet-

cyclic motion by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

cyclic motion

i. every sad story starts with love. ii. there is you sprawled across the bed with your ankles tangled in cotton covers and the golden waves of sunlight breaking themselves through fissured glass to drip into your hair like bright honey, your hands reaching upward as if they were young birds waiting on wings. you wept for those flightless, wet-beaked children anchored helplessly to your wrists but their hearts were not as weak as the foreign fist beating in your chest. they collapsed and only left behind the impressions of dying constellations they had scratched beneath your eyelids. iii. at dusk i watched the night take you in waves, glo

Hypnos by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

Hypnos

Winter poppies hang lowly as they nod themselves into a gentle, dreamless sleep. Their scarlet-skirted heads bob against the coming wind and detach from their brittle necks to sail westward. A strange nectar seeps from under the fire-bright petals, impregnating rivers with its perfumes and swelling the stomachs of rainclouds until they blot out the sun. Beneath your eyelids, stars shiver weakly in the shadow of their thin blue light. The pale and sickly flower of amnesia blooms nightly on these mud-blackened riverbanks, stirring the brittle silhouettes from where they are pinned against nightfall. The water here is thick and s

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Dionysus by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

Dionysus

cyclic motion by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

cyclic motion

Dear Victor by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

Dear Victor

I will not apologize because I knew you when your own ghosts turned their backs to your weeping or because I thought I could love the bird-shaped organ calling from inside your chest or because I clipped its stubborn wings when I realized I had been wrong. I am not sorry for it. But listen, Victor: I'm sorry I remember a time when we were beautiful, our bodies made luminous by the bitter light collected in our lungs like ash, the atmosphere shaking violently as it sank into our displaced skeletons. We could not recall our own skin. I'm sorry I called out for you in the dark when no one else was there to hear, each shaken syllable making a

Tribal Gods Passing on Wind by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

Tribal Gods Passing on Wind

In the forest I built the old man like a child; a brown and weary god which swallows the shadows cast by water and breathes them out across the curling leaves. I carved his eyes from horn and ivory. They gleamed warily as twin stones dark with slumber, the ice winding its way through their cracks only by memory. Their pale moss fell off in patches. And his skull, shaken by the birthing of cold worlds in its sockets, was thrust into the willow trees to catch vestiges of falling ghosts but found only blackbirds and fistfuls of sleep. I grabbed rivers by their spines and peeled them gently from the dirt, wrestled their scarred water with my na

When God Sleeps. by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

When God Sleeps.

I. So it comes to this: pangea tearing itself raw from our throats to pour into squares of newly open sky where the stars grew aches and darkened lakewater once bloomed into bruised winters. Somewhere beyond the thick of snow, prayers are strung on moon-rattled winds and birds' teeth tear apart the poetry of our hands. They will raise something beautiful from these ruined words. Continents shift slowly. They are dirt-bound titans, these beasts; rootless giants that mold themselves to fit the vision we hold inside our heads. Oceans sigh and their tides crawl ever upward. II. Our shadows become umbilical in certain light. Unknown children cas

the dawn was breaking by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

the dawn was breaking

i. victor, i think i have forgotten how to fear but possibly i am just dying. ii. last night i saw my father scrape a needle from his bone to sew together his crooked lips and let the dripping moon-glass fall stark against his wrists like closing guillotines so i could not feel him write or cry or speak. mother pinned his tongue to his teeth and beheaded it like a sordid, mutinous beast revolting against its own self. it spat syllables from his mouth as if they were bitter stones. i called it a lobotomy, but when she stuffed his eyes with wool and told him to believe the world was a beautiful place i realized that killing yourself is not t

unlearn the constellations by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

unlearn the constellations

I may carry my voice on white-crested wingtips but I refuse to take the names of birds. My throat is not a desert with smoldered star limbs in place of sand, not a stone for you to overturn and mark with gentle cloud prints or leave in the mud to be perforated by bright moss. My song is not made to be thundered like a body on the wind, to be bellowed by the jagged mouths of some distant, forgotten jungle. It is made to slide along the edges of twenty burning suns and rise like a halo of newfound breath from the crevice which splits earth and sea. To break open like the young, wet-winged dove born of a glorious mud which cracks mountains wi

In This Slant of Light by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

In This Slant of Light

The willow trees cut such stark shadows against the fields to-night, projections of their glorious souls so carelessly thrown across wind-rattled thickets to slice through quiet branches and squares of black mud. They drape over wooded sky like some supplement to the darkness which crowns late horizon. How do you see the water lilies hanging tendrils around cyclic dawn? Their pale faces open slowly- lips of a wanting mouth, frost of a blooming lake, petals of a growing star-- the last bit of light which filters through a closing guillotine. These cold flowers are born of rotten root, impregnated by the moon's perfumes. Dying worlds shudder

Wishbone by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

Wishbone

i. You taught me that every river has a ribcage filled with crayfish and cast-off pebbles and a whisper where the heart should be. If you look the currents in the eye you will find a wishbone jutting from the gaps and gasping for air, a stray limb or misguided root that has forgotten how to grow toward the sun. Grab both ends and pull until the fault line stretches all the way to the ocean. You will hear it splinter, the marrow dripping out like hot wax or some frozen nectar bled from unsuspecting sky. This is where the evening splits in two: one half scribbled hastily on the back of a shedding rainstorm and the other devour

Our Discontent Made Glorious by CyneNoir, literature

Literature

Our Discontent Made Glorious

in winter days, mother wakes heavy-lidded as her skeleton recollects itself and stumbles in a half-thought arrangement of curious limbs, trying to teach the ribcage how to sew back together its columns of rough-hewn teeth so her swelling light does not spill through open slits, a heart anchored firmly in her chest and pushing fire through tangled veins. tender bones shake off lakes of snow from where they drifted into the craters that hide behind her knees while the thickened night presses forests of gentle bruises into an aching spine and counts all the ways dead trees could blossom. white-winged larks are the first to flock to

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Fantastic Feature Tuesday #6 by forestmeetwildfire, journal

Fantastic Feature Tuesday #6

Aug 14, 2012

this is a small sample of a vast collection of wonderful pieces of literature by fantastic writers. each deviation was carefully selected from a writer's gallery based on structure, impact and word usage. i try (try!) to feature deviants who get less spotlight than others and i will never feature the same person twice. please take the time to read through each one - seriously, it takes five minutes - and be sure to the journal! (: :thumb294157961: :thumb305428542: :thumb315872781: :thumb317054496: :thumb261267552: :thumb314876617: :thumb307259862: :thumb316730129: :thumb312386566: :thumb294560529: :thumb315796236: ps. my thanks to :devtou

Summer Haze Contest Winners by WrittenRevolt, journal

Summer Haze Contest Winners

Sep 16, 2011

About Us | Our Rules | Our Gallery | The Contest | All Entries #theWrittenRevolution (https://www.deviantart.com/thewrittenrevolution) Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten. – Natasha Bedingfield The ContestAt the start of the summer, we asked our members to creatively chronicle their summer, using journal entries, letters, short poems or any other style. The idea was that they would explore how their personal experiences influence their writing and how they can capture their memories and feelings into works of art. This contest was judged by jonathoncomfortreed (https://www.deviantart.com/jonathoncomfortreed), Kassi-Kamira (https://www.deviantart.com/kassi-kamira), angelStained (https://www.deviantart.com/angelstained) and Solarune (https://www.deviantart.com/solarune). We'd just like to express how excit

Soft by saartha, literature

NaPoWriMo 18-23 by saartha, literature

Literature

NaPoWriMo 18-23

April 18, 2011 All about, the murmurous world. A man can rise like the dawn, beleaguered but inured. He breaks open and the sun splits and the metaphors unravel. A man is just a man— vestigial, lost only because he believes there is a path. April 19, 2011 Moving forward, Zeno knew himself as a cat in a box. The fractions chased their own tails. Unobserved, he existed in every space at once, as an asymptote reaching zero. April 20, 2011 Oh, my body realizes, this is rage. The electric heat of chemicals destroys and remakes, tiny focusing pinpricks. His hand on me, everything falls into place. I finally know what

the love affair by sunshinegypsy, literature

Literature

the love affair

life slides under the door and I think about you not knowing how to love and touching a person's sleeping eyelids to change a dream, to lie here with you under a silent oak tree, the sunlight has begun to breathe and I am digging you a grave for your past and your future, I am holding you here, the trunk of my car open to let the sweet sound of a song rise into the air, it is rushing by too swiftly and I have premonitions or I just got lucky or everything means something nothing vanishes without a trace I hold despair in the palm of my hand and cannot dance without spilling it onto the floor, it seeps into the carpet but you

About CyneNoir

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

United States
Deviant for 14 years
She / Her

Badges

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Manchester Orchestra, Muse, Florence + The Machine, Mumford and Sons, Modest Mouse, Death Cab, Adele, Regina Spektor

Favourite Writers

Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Richard Siken, Palbo Neruda, Andrea Gibson

Tools of the Trade

Keyboard, MS Word

Posts

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CyneNoir

Jun 2, 2015

whoa

0 min read

Someone's been gone a looong time. So you've probably guessed that I fell out of DeviantArt a while ago--I just wasn't really feeling it anymore, it wasn't anything in particular that caused it. As a quick update, I've just finished my freshman year at Johns Hopkins and it was pretty great. I did write a few poems but I've been kind of in a slump lately. Can't say that I'm really planning on returning to DA anytime soon, but who knows, it could happen. I need some inspiration this summer, and it is nice  to get some feedback. Hope all of you are doing well.

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CyneNoir

Apr 4, 2012

how is it

0 min read

that I've been active on dA for a year and a half, but I only have fifty things posted? And about ten to fifteen of those aren't even poems. I must be one of the least prolific writers ever. (Also: I can't believe I got a third DD! I never thought that piece would. Thanks so much to everyone who faved or commented on it. I'll get around to replying soon, I promise. You're all lovely.)

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CyneNoir

Jan 23, 2012

fucking lawmakers have lost their minds

0 min read

First SOPA and PIPA, and now ACTA? I'm beginning to wonder if they even understand how the internet works. Jesus. It's like every dystopian novel ever written is starting to come true.

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Profile Comments 462

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Solarune

Feb 21, 2015

Just to say, I miss you and your writing, and I hope you're doing well wherever you are and whatever you're up to.

CyneNoir

Jun 2, 2015

Hey Solarune! Wow, it's really been a long time. I'm not totally sure if you're still around much on DA, but I just posted a journal. Thanks so much for all your support over the years, it's truly meant a lot.

And I am doing quite well! I hope everything is good with you.

Solarune

Jun 9, 2015

OH MY GOSH
WOW
HI

!!!!!
I'm so happy to see this! I have dropped off dA a fair bit myself, so thank you for telling me you'd posted! I did wonder what you were up to, and how you were doing. Congratulations on getting into that university! It sounds like you're having a fantastic time, & I hope you're finding (or will find) some time to write in amongst it all.
And I'm good, thanks! I am living with my partner in what has become my favourite city in the world (Sheffield, UK) and playing lots of music, so everything's wonderful.
BUT YES SO HAPPY TO SEE A MESSAGE FROM YOU.

CyneNoir

Jun 10, 2015

Umm!!! I just saw this comment, and CONGRATULATIONS on finding a place to live with your partner! That's awesome, I'm so glad things are going well for you. You seem like you have your life well in order and are generally happy, which is always good.

Shoeborn

Dec 22, 2013

Happy birthday! I hope it was a good one :3

UnspecifiedUnknown

Dec 21, 2013

^{happy birthday love i hope you have a beautiful day filled with immense love & joy}

LiliWrites

Dec 16, 2013

I miss seeing you in my inbox! How are things?