Sunday, January 30

Sunday sings through the window pane~



Hello peaches + pearls + precious people.
Today, my mind is unemployed.  I am abandoning the week's struggles. Since Monday, I've been glued to blue pens(not crayons), studying mathematics.  If you know me, you'll understand my distaste for numbers.  I speak in languages of poetry, literature, pop culture, and politics. My tongue is foreign to multiplications, factors, fractions, graphing, etc.  Math studies would be a lot easier if the questions were logical and their usage was common. Instead, I'm learning things in order to achieve a grade. It's silly, half of these calculations will never be used in daily livings. Growl.




 This Sunday brings gentleness, and merriment in the afternoon, mingled with liveliness and high spirits by evening's fall.  A sugar-coated friend of mine has come to spend the night.  We will pour glasses of bubbly, and bake scents of coconut, cinnamon, and sugars.  After over-indulgence of sweet-things, we'll explore the city and escape into the glowing night.


The cheerless week before had stretched my frown.  I skipped sleep, and punished my brain. Melancholy was growing everyday.  It's true, sometimes a devil makes a homestead in your head.  Thankfully, I'm out of the gloom.   Now, a new week is greeting us all. It's time for smiles!

I'm feeling playful as a kitten.

The past week sent sunshine to earth's bosom.  Sadly for the folks who basked in it, well they didn't have much time. As I type this, the echo of my television speaks of weather warnings.   The pure snow will surely  fall.. again.  Above our heads, the yawning clouds stretch.  They must be tired of the same old tricks. Pouring snow, and wildness across my hills.  The wicked ways of weather.  One day, earth's buds are in blossom, the next day moccasins are dressing my cold toes !

Now for the beautiful dress! I'm wearing an old-fashioned vintage gown reconstructed by keiko lynn.  My gown and I fell in love during the weardrobe nyc fashion blogger event.  How politely it drapes down my frame, and cinches the waist. The color palette writes stories of antiques, and old fashion love songs. I've always dreamed of being in possession of such a beautiful garment.  ((Thank you Keiko for your charms, and sweet nature.))






On a delightful note, flyingakite followers will notice the new blog layout. Built by floral patterns, sweet birds, and soft ladylike hues. The blog shines delicately and dainty now.  I am SO gracious to the designer, Ella.  She's the girl with the talent! Her whimsical designs are so pretty, and charming to my eyes.  The deepest of sweetness sits in my heart for her.  What a magical girl. 
Please visit Ella for her blog and portfolio. xo



Thank you for reading!
sweet kisses !*



what I wore:
braids created by mom
boots given to me by http://www.atseoul.com/
dress from new york city clothes swap with http://www.keikolynn.com/
the entire look is free. !!
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Thursday, January 27

a whimsy, and a dream.


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Take, dear, my little sheaf of songs,
   For, old or new,
All that is good in them belongs
   Only to you;

And, singing as when all was young,
   They will recall
Those others, lived but left unsung –
   The best of all.
- williamernest.
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He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggar’s Dog and Widow’s Cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer song 
Poison gets from Slander’s tongue.
The poison of the Snake and Newt
Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot.
- williamblake.
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In the hall. Where our lips touched.
The summer knew our hooves.
We made blankets with white lilies,
and like puppies, we slept.
The time when I kissed you.
for the first time, and your sienna eyes wept.
I needed you, but you wouldn't know what for.

I needed you for treasure,
and to lay by my belly,
when the lions would bark,
and when the sky bent and fell,
I needed you for starlight.
You were the water to my well.

In the forest. Where we gathered.
To watch the rise of the city,
and to study the daisies.
The time we crushed petals,
and danced on the island.
I knew you, but you wouldn't know what for.

You knew soft letters,
and the beast behind the number,
I never learned to count.

In the sentence. When I learned
The day that you said it,
I remember it well.
I'd give up story telling, and boats by water
To hear you whisper in my ear.
I love you.
- amynelson.

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The smoke and verses by the moonlight
You're fire in a crown.
The whimsy of your wiggle, 
and the tickle in your frown.

Down yonder, under a bare oak tree.
I call to my love, but he doesn't hear me.
I've been a'calling since the eye of the sun.
Under the cherry blossom,
We grew into one.

Down by rivers, our hands were wed.
Try for sleep, says my heart to my head.
Beneath moonlights, his tremble would call for me.
Now he tends to my pulses
Beneath the wild cherry tree.
- amynelson.

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in the cave of enchantment,
dine on peaches by the perennial and pine,
grains of golden gravel.
wearing crowns composed of vine
The uncounted admiration,
I have for your wild beam
parallel to the stars and their moons,
barefoot on a stream.
far beyond the boyhood ballad
stretched across kindred home-folk
you are my wildflower,
my singersong by the sea.
the foreign love
of you and me.

I have for you
until the end.

I have for you
until the end.
- amynelson.

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Then Indian bell-bird teaches me a thing.
How to pull weeds from the garden,
How to delight, and how to sing.

The Indian bell-bird teaches me a thing
The Indian bell-bird and it's melodious wing.
- amynelson.

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And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine, -

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
- williamblake.

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is this my painting
you've placed above your bed?
the song and your strumming
the daisy drone of your humming
ringing through my ears,
disposing of all fears.
I will wait for you when the weather
grows temperamental
I will ease your shake
when your feeling sentimental.

A hand in my palm,
and a pulse dressed in you
like a morning bird,
awakened,
everyday you're true.
- amynelson.

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There's a man by my breast.
With the scent of the breeze.
Tonight, he's the trapper.
By daylight, the trees.
- amynelson.

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I come to hear the forest
I come to taste it's charm
To dine on trees forgiveness
and to lick away the harm.
 
I've been afraid of our death
Keeping my eyes awake.
The love I have in my chest now,
Flows like the golden lake.
My love, do not fill my eyes.
Do not pinch until it pours.
My love, I will hold your toes,
forever, I am yours. 
I come to read for my love.
I come to beg away his traveler skin. 
I love you true, for all you do.
Let our love begin.
- amynelson. 
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He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sun rise.
- williamblake.
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Saturday, January 22

as a crown tint of gold.


hello saturday,
I'm breathing easy while blanketed in my bedroom.  The wind is calm. The skies light spills across my bedroom frame.  Soon, I will bathe in a bubble bathe, and by vanilla-scented candles, I will prepare myself for day light.  I'm looking on the favorable side of things.  Me and my enchanting mother will travel to Kensington today. Stopping for breakfast at wake bistro, feeding on pastries and simple delights. 

I write to you after a troublesome sleep. The moon's beam laid low in the sky. The shine was beautiful, nothing for me to complain about. Until, strange noises set foot in my ear drums.   Quite possibly, the nature of wind shook the shingles. But for some reasoning, I heard sounds much stranger than a wind.  The brain's desire to conjure up stories is quite humorous.   The wind, the wind, the wind. That's all it was. No extraterrestrial or divine creatures, no ghostly storm. Just wind.


There is a passionate light setting my room on fire. The warmth of air is proposing my name.  Maybe I'll adventure to the playground, or the ravine in the afternoon.   Maybe, I'll catch the spotted deer, and maybe he'll become a photograph.     For now,  a warm bubble bath is pouring. Drip, drop, drip, drop.  
Wearing my crown of flowers, and pale skin, I'll follow the wild lights.

;;;
Thanks for reading.
Many Kisses !!
amy.



what I wore:
boots given to me by http://www.atseoul.com/
animal print faux fur- winners $20
black pants- ross for less $13
headband- nyc flea market $8
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