Faoiltiarna-Wolf

Tiarna, Tarna or Failenn

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I Feel

At times like this, I feel so alone, I know you're here, I know you love me. Yet still I feel withdrawn, cloaked within myself, hiding. I long to be... wanted, desired, liked, loved. It is like a drug, I cannot quit. Maybe it's the depression, but when I'm like this, there are two drugs I crave, love and solitude. Torn between being alone, so you won't see the pain, and being loved enough to erase the pain. Each day it grows, worse and worse, needing more and more, until I drain you dry, with nothing left to give. Waiting for you... to touch me, to want me, to hold me, to love me. At tim

All

303 deviations

Literature

I Feel

Featured

303 deviations

Manips

4 deviations

Attempts at painting

1 deviation

Literature

Prayer to The Morrighan

Skald crow, battle raven, fly with my words to your Mistress, The Washer at the Ford, mother of the Bean Sidhe. Bring back her favor, and let us know, who will live, and who will die. She who is patron to our hotblooded youth, those who revel and bask in Her glory. Goddess of Battle, Goddess of the Otherworld, The Phantom Queen. Who will wear the armor, which you have washed, with your own two hands? Guide and Guardian of Kings, Great Queen of Magic. Which face will you show today? Will you be the crone, filled with wisdom and death, or the unnatural beauty, who fires us to glory, which will wait at

Prizes

6 deviations

Literature

Stare into the Sunset

I stare off into the sunset, watching orange, red and yellow color my world. Watching waves crash on the rocks below. Clouds in the distance, drifting away, leaving me behind. Sharp rocks standout, cliffs, jagged and steep. Images of the past in my mind, who stood here in days gone by? Did they stare as I do? Dreaming of far away locales? Of those in the past or the future? I guess we'll never know.

Collab Works

69 deviations

Literature

Teardrops -Writing prompt 1-

Salty, like the ocean waves, yet her tiny teardrops are the sweetest wine to he that hurts her. Little does he care, of her feelings, her wants, her needs. Everything is about him. Her pain, expressed by each crystalline drop is his joy. His proof that he matters, more to her than she does to him, or to herself for that matter. Hurtful words, hurtful actions, each betrayal, large and small are the press he uses to get exactly the wine he craves. Day and night are all the same, no kind words, no soft touches, unless they elicit more of her diamond drops, trickling down her cheeks, filling his cup to overflowing,

100 Challenge

21 deviations

Short Stories

2 deviations

Coloring for Others

2 deviations

Literature

Anguish

There is so much I want to say, so much I feel I need to say. And yet, words seem so hollow. The simple elegance is tarnished, the skill we once shared, weakened. A chain has been broken. Something precious, stolen. I cannot find the rhyme or reason. All I know is what was taken, cannot be replaced, cannot be repaired. I prayed, long and hard. I wept, pleading, begging for a miracle. Unfortunately it was not to be granted. Perhaps a greater need elsewhere called and took what was ours. It is not easy, I cannot let go. Even now, it is a harsh, cold dream, stealing the warmth from my soul, taking all the comfort

Poems for People

88 deviations

Literature

For Once...

For once in my life, I feel.. the way I ought to feel. A part of everything, a part of something... Perhaps if I'd been here before, mayhaps I'd have felt this way before. But I wasn't here. I was there.. There is such a lonely place, with never a friendly face. But now I am here and my friends are near. Few have I trusted many have I loved, Now that is changed, I am here...

Random Poems

51 deviations

Literature

Birth of the Ogham

All twenty were there, seated round the garden. Disharmony abounded, with twenty voices raised in discord. Each thought themselves, more... More important... More needed... More loved... than any of of the others. Each one spoke at length, extolling their own virtues, trying to drown out everyone else. Leaves, flowers and vines, lashed out at one another. Suddenly, amidst the fray, there stood a robed figure. He raised his hands, his voice soft, almost a whisper. And silence reigned in the garden. The only voice, the God of Eloquence, Ogma, did not rail, did not boom, and yet still, the twenty listened. The golden

Contest Entries

8 deviations

Misc.

6 deviations

Scraps

5 deviations

I Feel by Faoiltiarna-Wolf, literature

Literature

I Feel

The Warrior's Quandy by Faoiltiarna-Wolf, literature

Literature

The Warrior's Quandy

I hear the drums, the chanting, far behind me, near the camp. I sit alone, under Grandmother Moon. I need to think. Which path is right? Which path is wrong? Will we, the First People, regret this way we forge? The elders counsel waiting, the younger feel the flames of war, they hear the call of the drums. The white devils make many promises, but the only ones they keep involve violence. So many of our people, not just warriors, woman and children, slain as well, left to rot, lost to history. We've been driven from our lands, so many times, uprooted from our past. What will the future hold? Will our ways die? Our

Complicated by Faoiltiarna-Wolf, literature

Little Sweetheart by Faoiltiarna-Wolf, literature

Literature

Little Sweetheart

You call me your 'little sweetheart' When we're alone. Never where anyone might hear you. I almost expect you to look from left to right. Making sure no one is around. Are you ashamed of me? Is that what it is? My love is not good enough? I give you all my time, and you hide me away. Even a doll gets shown off, every now and again, but not me. We're alone now, no one is around to hear you call me your little sweetheart.

Moon Dance by Faoiltiarna-Wolf, literature

Literature

Moon Dance

A lonesome wind carrying the sound, songs that only wolves can understand. The gentle cool touch of moon's pale light, tracing the shapes of the priestesses in light and shadow play. Only the two dancing, arms upraised. Calling out in prayer, in triumph. Rejoicing for their freedom, asking for a good hunt. Thanking for the gifts She gives. Ears, sharp, hearing every sound. Eyes able to pierce the shadows, unfazed by the play of colors. Noses built to scent any trail. All better than mere human form. Swiftness of foot, sharpness of fang. Ready to hunt, to feed. Taking only what they need. Offering up their thanks with

Fear and Hope by Faoiltiarna-Wolf, literature

Literature

Fear and Hope

I prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. I prepared for the news, but hoped it was not true. I prepare the shrouds, but hope she'll not need them. I prepare the phone tree, but hope I'll not have to call. I've prepared the songs, but hope I'll not need to sing. I've accepted that she's made her peace, but I still hope she'll never just give up. I know I may never see her again, but I hope to hold her one last time. I know I may not get to kiss her again, but I hope to stroke her cheek. I know how brave she really is, but I hoped she'd not have to prove it. This is how my people, my family, deal with

Letter to my Heartbreak by Faoiltiarna-Wolf, literature

Literature

Letter to my Heartbreak

To my Heartbreak, This is hard to write, but I have to. There is a lot I need to get off my chest before it eats me alive. I know you won't read this, may never even see it. Even if I sent it to you... For months, almost a year, of my life, I've given. My time, my heart, whatever you asked that was in my power to give. I've made time for you, gave you room in my heart. And at first, you seemed to as well. We talked for hours on the phone, online, everyday. When my cat died, you canceled your plans and spent time with me. You've told me that you care about me, very much, that you're very fond of me. And when you're drunk, you tell me you lo

Break Away by Faoiltiarna-Wolf, literature

Literature

Break Away

A need to escape, A need to run, A need to be free. My heart is tight within my chest, as I look to the mountains, so far from me. A taste of freedom, my soul longs for, seemingly out of reach. If only I had wings, to carry me across the still waters, to carry me away from this dead life. Tired of my feet feeling parched earth, I want to feel the grass, see the trees, smell the flowers. I want to touch the sky and break away.

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