The Skyline Angel

Just a skyline angel with healing wings, dreaming of the open, waiting for the day...
The day that my wings will fully heal, and I can spread them out and fly away...
I wait... Breathing with hope, and living on that almost unshakeable force called faith.
... But until that day, the feathers of my memories shall be carried on the breeze of time and destiny... to this humble little blog.

Likes
my guitar
music
photography
writing
singing and dancing
stargazer lilies
writing
using the net
fire & ice
life

Dislikes
backstabbers
users
cheaters
cockroaches
pens that don't work
bad time management
too much pressure
mosquitos


Fall Away


Fly Away

This Skyline Angel
My PhotoBlog: What A Picture's Worth
My Multiply
My LJ: Even Angels Fall

Fellow Skyline Angels
Yana
Kate
Belsha
Ingrid
Patti Cor
Zal
Antarel
Sir Joey
Sir Martin
Gian
Mike
Kuya Jowi
Camia 09
Pisay 09
Tianxia 09
The Philippine Tolkien Society


Fade Away

December 2004

January 2005

February 2005

March 2005

April 2005

June 2005

July 2005

October 2005

November 2005

December 2005

January 2006

February 2006

March 2006

April 2006

May 2006

June 2006

July 2006

September 2006

October 2006

December 2006

February 2007



Credits
layout by: Lyna
image:a
brushes:b, c



Friday, April 01, 2005

More poetry...

The Hands of the Artist
-- a poem about how a simple artist’s hands made magic in his work, and how this magic inspired others to do the same.
I watched the artist who sat in the street

Every morning he would be there
And in his hands would be
A sheet of paper, some canvas, a lump of clay
A paintbrush, a pencil, some paint
As he picked up these various items
He and I knew
His hands would work his magic
To make something new
His hands covered the canvas with skilled strokes
His eyes taking in his painted designs
His hands gently sculpted the clay
Unearthing hidden treasures within
His hands sketched on the paper
Placing his fantasies on the sheet
And in all his work, his hands
Drew my gaze
They were blackened with coal
When he made a sketch
They were stained with paint
When a painting was his plan
They were streaked with clay
When he sculpted his work
But in my beauty-loving eyes
All these blemishes gave his hands
A beauty all their own
They showed hours of work and dedication
They showed how he poured love and joy into his artA
nd they showed the life and magic he made
I admired how his hands
Tirelessly gave something new life
I longed to do the same
So I copied the movements of his hands
Making my own little magic
Making any and all art there is
And when I was done, I saw
That my hands now resembled his.

~~ Eruanne

Current mood: calm
Current music: 'Julia' from Final Fantasy VIII (Hehehe, lately I became interested in finishing my game of FF8, and just for kicks I downloaded some of the music)


11:07 PM