Beltane, a night of celebration and passion as lovers celebrate the new harvest, new love, and new beginnings. Dancing and music had filled the streets from early evening till late in the night, sweet fragrances of summer flowers braided into hair filled the streets. Lovers leaping the Beltane fires in the hopes it would bring them a child in the New Year, or just to bring luck and good health, were joined by the Seeker and his Confessor, laughing and dancing through the celebrations.
Before the night is out, many lovers sneak away into the shadows of darkness, sharing passionate embraces and joining together to celebrate their love. The Seeker had drawn his Confessor away from the celebrations, eyes bright as they laughed through the halls and into their chamber to fall gasping into their bed.
Only a few hours have passed since the festivities died down and a low rumbling in the distance warns of a brewing summer storm. Silence fills the streets of Aydendryl as the heat from the winding flagstones ebbs away into the night sky, banks of hot embers glowing softly in what remains of the celebration fires.
Through a window left open, the North wind brings with it the taste of cool rain and fills the chamber with its warm tendrils. Curtains flutter in response, the last burning candle flickers as the room is suddenly illuminated with a flash of lightning, seeking to invade the dark's territory and revealing all to the night. Within the shadows, the lightning illuminates a couple in undisturbed slumber after a night of eager Beltane celebrations. The richly furbished chamber is illuminated once more – the thunder that follows still a distant rumble. This illumination reveals a young woman, boneless in her peaceful state and pr...
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...his chin pressed to her curls as her hot breath washes over his neck. A thunder clap swallows their panting breaths as they melt into the bed, sweat cooling, hearts returning to their steady rhythm as the heavens open up and rain begins to fall.
His hand stroked the length of her spine as she shifts to the side and he slips from her body. Pressing herself to him, Kahlan remains close as she traces circles over his heart, breath deepening as waves of sleep pull her under. The Seeker tightened his hold around her shoulders and pressed lips to her forehead. "Spirits know, I love you too Kahlan." Her only response was lips against his shoulder as the storm rumbled overhead. The hot wind blew through the window once more, its strength extinguishing the candle and folding the chamber into darkness as the Seeker and Mother Confessor fell together into a boneless sleep.
Beltane is the Sacred Marriage and union of the God and Goddess. Beltane is also a celebration of fertility, fruitfulness and the coming of summer. It is a time when the light half of the year is waxing and everything is growing and coming into full greenery and bloom. It is the last of the spring fertility festivals, and is a time w...
'Daylight began to forsake the red-room; it was past four o'clock and the beclouded afternoon was tending to drear twilight. I heard the rain still beating continuously on the staircase window, and the wind howling in the grove behind the hall; I grew by degrees cold as stone, and then my courage sank'1
The window was cold to the touch. The glass shimmered as the specks of sunlight danced, and Blake stood, peering out. As God put his head to the window, at once, he felt light shining through his soul. Six years old. Age ceased to define him and time ceased to exist. Silence seeped into every crevice of the room, and slowly, as the awe of the vision engulfed him, he felt the gates slowly open. His thoughts grew fluid, unrestrained, and almost chaotic. An untouched imagination had been liberated, and soon, the world around him transformed into one of magnificence and wonder. His childish naivety cloaked the flaws and turbulence of London, and the imagination became, to Blake, the body of God. The darkness lingering in the corners of London slowly became light. Years passed by, slowly fading into wisps of the past, and the blanket of innocence deteriorated as reality blurred the clarity of childhood.
“It was a large, beautiful room, rich and picturesque in the soft, dim light which the maid had turned low. She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and tortuous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mourning notes without promise, devoid even of hope. She turned back into the room and began to walk to and fro, down its whole length, without stopping, without resting. She carried in her hands a thin handkerchief, which she tore into ribbons, rolled into a ball, and flung from her. Once she stopped, and taking off her wedding ring, flung it upon the carpet. When she saw it lying there she stamped her heel upon it, striving to crush it. But her small boot heel did not make an indenture, not a mark upon the glittering circlet.
"Dearest heart," whispered she, softly and rather sadly, when her lips were close to his ear, "pr'ythee, put off your journey until sunrise, and sleep in your own bed tonight. A lone woman is troubled with such dreams and such thoughts, that she's
Beltane is the last of the three spring fertility festivals. Beltane is the second principal Celtic festival (the other being Samhain). Celebrated approximately halfway between spring equinox and the midsummer (Summer Solstice). Beltane traditionally marked the arrival if summer in ancient times.
Robert Frost had always been interested in poetry even from a young age. He graduated from Lawrence High School at the top of his class along with Elinor White, who he fell in love with. He and Elinor then went their separate ways, while he went on to attend Dartmouth College she attended St. Lawrence University. He and Elinor did get married a few year later when they both had graduated and Robert was working different jobs as he was having no luck trying to publish his poems in the United States. Because he was not able to get any of his poems published he moved to England in hopes of better luck. After only a short time he managed to get a view works published in England and the news of his works started a lot of buzz. While all of this was going on he had no idea that people in America were also beginning to hear about his work. With the beginning of World War One he moved his family back to the United States were he took up job lecturing in colleges, but he was now living the life he had always wanted, a successful poet with a family. Throughout the rest of his life kept writing and publishing poems which he received many awards for.
The narrator describes his frightening and sad surroundings, which reflect his state of mind caused by the death of his dear friend. The narrator opens his sad tale with “Once upon a midnight dreary” and later offers, “it was in the bleak December.” He describes his chamber as containing “many quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore” and his fireplace as “each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.” With such images as the old musty books and the dying fire, a mood is set that represents the lonely and frightened state of mind of the narrator. Later, he sees curtains moving without a window open, and hears someone tapping on his chamber door. We begin to see that the narrator is losing touch with reality because he is deeply depressed by of the ...
The author illustrates the “dim, rundown apartment complex,” she walks in, hand and hand with her girlfriend. Using the terms “dim,” and “rundown” portrays the apartment complex as an unsafe, unclean environment; such an environment augments the violence the author anticipates. Continuing to develop a perilous backdrop for the narrative, the author describes the night sky “as the perfect glow that surrounded [them] moments before faded into dark blues and blacks, silently watching.” Descriptions of the dark, watching sky expand upon the eerie setting of the apartment complex by using personification to give the sky a looming, ominous quality. Such a foreboding sky, as well as the dingy apartment complex portrayed by the author, amplify the narrator’s fear of violence due to her sexuality and drive her terror throughout the climax of the
It is dusk, just before dinner-time. The sky is a canvas of purples, blues and oranges; the sun is a deep red. There are little black silhouettes of houses and castles soaking up the red blood like oversaturated bandages, regurgitating the rest onto the streets are syrupy orange light. The air is crisp, soaked thoroughly in the scent of canal water and burning candles. From the handkerchief in Emilia’s hand just the slightest hints of fragrant spices arise. Around them, the doors of shops creak to a close as the day comes to an end. The torch in Iago’s hand chuckles heartily, sputtering incandescent sparks into the
My eyes follow the jet black hands on my watch that creep more and more nigh five past six. As the big hands of the clock pass the minutes go by that guarantee relief from agony. The more that time expires, the flowers begin to wither like the hope in my heart that Hester with arriving at the cathedral due to the notice is given by the letter. The wind howls and slams into the cathedral doors giving me false hope that the women of my dreams will be walking through the door. Bending at the waist, and praying to god Hester will come to greet me I feel a breeze hit the back of my neck and reawaken from my concentration in God. As I rise from the pew, I see small women walk through the doors with a black clock and a candle whose burning wax drips down the sides, casting light that guides the way to me. Thine figure in the black cloak hands me a letter and runs away without my response.
Sunlight seeps through the gap between the curtains and falls upon my eyes. The birds outside the window sing their sweet melodic tune and I sigh at the peacefulness of it all. Although the curse The Kindly Ones bestowed upon us has been broken for over a month now, I still, along with everyone else in the kingdom, smile with delight when the radiant heat of the fire that hangs in the sky like a Hermetic lamp, hits my face. I roll over and find Lux still deep in his dreams. As I watch the rise and fall of his chest, I realize how simple and tranquil my life is now.
This poem dramatizes the conflict between love and lust, particularly as this conflict relates to what the speaker seems to say about last night. In the poem “Last Night” by Sharon Olds, the narrator uses symbolism and sexual innuendo to reflect on her lust for her partner from the night before. The narrator refers to her night by stating, “Love? It was more like dragonflies in the sun, 100 degrees at noon.” (2, 3) She describes it as being not as great as she imagined it to be and not being love, but lust. Olds uses lust, sex and symbolism as the themes in the story about “Last night”.
Inside the nicely decorated room with taupe walls just the perfect hint of beige, lie colorful accessories with incredible stories waiting to be told. A spotless, uninteresting window hangs at the end of the room. Like a silent watchman observing all the mysterious characteristics of the area. The sheer white curtains cascade silently in the dim lethargic room. In the presence of this commotion, a sleepy, dormant, charming room sits waiting to be discovered. Just beyond the slightly pollen and dust laden screens, the sun struggles to peak around the edges of the darkness to cast a bright, enthusiastic beam of light into the world that lies beyond the spotless double panes of glass. Daylight casts a dazzling light on the various trees and flowers in the woods. The leaves of fall, showcasing colors of orange, red, and mustard radiate from the gold inviting sunshine on a cool fall day. A wonderful world comes to life outside the porthole. Colossal colors littered with, abundant number of birds preparing themselves for the long awaited venture south, and an old toad in search of the perfect log to fall asleep in for the winter.
Uninterrupted, I felt like floating all night. Just before the light of the day presented itself, I was staring from the terrace of the plaza that housed the temple and its stupa at the visible dense fog below that was pierced by the sporadic lights of the village that was waking up. While the day made its timid, slow entrance, the dissipating fog revealed the roofs of the houses below and the chanting inhabitants, who were walking up the 365 steps. Their voices gradually grew louder step by step until it reached and permeated the square where I was temporarily residing.