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About Literature / Artist Core Member Katarina ObergFemale/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
'The Magic Oasis'
Day slowly blends in colors pastel, this goddess, on her palette the colors that foretell her progression as the sky obeys in its subjugation, till finally the deeper varied shades of ebonys and grays indicate tis time this art be surrendered to be continued by the master hand of Night.
Two wander through an oasis of her own making, a female tall and delicate, a Prince tall in stature of spirit, till they meet from their own weaving way they chose to be taken.
They talk under shade of palm as he with such a tender soothing of song of words of love lets flow, sparkling each in their own mystical aura, heighten the magic of her making.
In them is found the strength of magic charm to move past bar and walls firmly constructed, yea even several feet thick they are to a heart that has lain behind them lest insincerity enter and pain once more is felt in its quickening.
Rising to greet such harmonic song sung by a Prince of a land from afar, she,a prisoner bound by the words of others gone a
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Literature
'The Magic Oasis'
Day slowly blends in colors pastel, this goddess, on her palette the colors that foretell her progression as the sky obeys in its subjugation, till finally the deeper varied shades of ebonys and grays indicate tis time this art be surrendered to be continued by the master hand of Night.
Two wander through an oasis of her own making, a female tall and delicate, a Prince tall in stature of spirit, till they meet from their own weaving way they chose to be taken.
They talk under shade of palm as he with such a tender soothing of song of words of love lets flow, sparkling each in their own mystical aura, heighten the magic of her making.
In them is found the strength of magic charm to move past bar and walls firmly constructed, yea even several feet thick they are to a heart that has lain behind them lest insincerity enter and pain once more is felt in its quickening.
Rising to greet such harmonic song sung by a Prince of a land from afar, she,a prisoner bound by the words of others gone a
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Literature
'Lost Time'
Morning waltzes to the music of the fading stars, into her place in a gown of swirled pastels that start with blues and grays to slowly become the brilliant fire of the sun that is the twinkling of her smile.
Upon her appearing below her stir the mortals of this planet as they like her, begin to waltz through their day in rituals of loving, hoping and craving.
Whispered on the breezes are the incantations of Day and as I rise I begin to obey all the facets and rules of her chants, never quite connecting in this my separate life until -
            "Do I know you from somewhere? Why are you rotating in my life's sphere to rituals born
             from the generations of my own gone on before?
             Are you a wizard perhaps who cast a spell on me so I would wander through time endlessly
 
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Literature
'And The Pieces Fall Apart'
Oh cruel most hated state, love,
state of one moment rest, another state of storm tossing of hearts.
Love, what a wretched, horrid animal, that raises it's head as angel beautiful only to turn to beast of old,
Love, it comes and promises with Hope, and what of Hope, that beast mate of it?
It devours all of one's spirit, with the beauty of it,
only to once one be captured in its thorn filled rosey fingers, tear such beauty away,
Hope, like love, can be a most horrid state, and I  -
I can do nothing but watch, as darkness falls ore my soul once more,
and along with her Raiders of Horrific State do come.
I sit, I lower my head, and with the eyes of my soul do in horror
Watch The Pieces Fall Apart.
K 01/23/06
and yet I shall not stop trying-
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Literature
'The Pen's Master'
In the mystic wee hours of the night when mortals sleep in sweetest repose of peace and Mistress Night's Cloak decorates the Heaven's ebony skies with gems of her train as it trails behind in her travel's  - it along its seams even glows.
A breeze tip toes through my open window tickling the lace curtains draped round it delivering the message being sent by A Pen's Master - to my ears a caressing awakening flow.
"Awake, awake sweet child" the words came - as gentle as a lullaby - as soothing as the rain - till I finally rose in my bed to view who there stood - in sheer quivering delight my eyes opened wide.
He was tall - hair of spun gold long- his garments of gossamer silks that to the floor ran surely had been ner touched by human hand for they changed color as he approached in long stride.
His cloak was every color of the rainbow - of satin finest made - decorated in real silver, gold and bronze -the implements of his Majestic pride.
Quills, pencils, pens, bottle of inkpot
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Literature
The Voice of Love
Silence -
Silence soft - gentle with the touches of no sound at all
  Silence still - filled only with the rustlings of silks againt silks, on one smaller on one taller
Whipsers -
  Whispers of cotton tone - hushed by the sacred peace found in each other's arms
     Whispers still - even in the shadows edged in sunlite's  glittering rays speak holy words of no harm
Sighing -
  Sighing oh the sighing of the evening breeze - tender, enchanting
    Sighing still - now from the lips of one to the other - magically  beckoning - to the other entrancing
Moaning -
Moaning not like the storm's wind - but like the sails of a ship at sea that is beginning to be free
   Moaning still - now like the deeper moans of the masts as they press against the sails whispering you   belong to me
Breathless -
  Breathless but in no need to breathe - for the touch of your hand
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Literature
Haunted Heart's Melodies
"I think to myself, I shall die of this,this hold of the music on me, I shall die of the very thing that all my young life I have craved to feel inside of me.
"Dig deep, deep, my soul, to find the heart - the blood - the heat - the shrine - the resting place that the music promises again and again to thee.Dig deep, deep into that black velvet of the night that matches the dark soil wherein all I have known and loved now lie.
"I seek it now - shamelessly - that shameful emotional ecstasy that can be found only in the notes of the sweet sweet melodies of the music that now flows in and through and over me. It is my possessor - it is my tempter - it is my devil - it is all of these to be sure but yet it is these things as well - In it I find my freedom - in it I find the satisfaction to my desires - in it is the very song of the angels, oh it must be that, yes. For in the music that he instilled in me is all that was, that is and that is to come. Oh sweet melodies, one last time I beg of
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Literature
'The Song of Love'
Take me in your arms  - let us by the candlelight and tree lights sparkling as tiny stars sway
In gentle waltzing to notes of divine inspiration from a most beloved man and composer's making  - truly, oh truly the angel's had ordained to him long before his conception to write and play.
Find in those still so often repeated notes the eternity of their giving in such sweet sincerity
Waltz with me my darling to Schumann  that we may  know just once the "Song of Love " he wrote for the one that held him in her heart without ending, always love enduring
Hear in the simple notes, the simple words unsaid, hushed in tones of such quiet cotton softness that if we but closed our eyes there we could be waltzing to the piano as she, the wife of the composer weaves for the world a song of love's never death into immortality
How magnificent, how resplendent in its simplicity, dance the notes upon the air as her fingers move over the keyboard of the piano that
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Literature
Spirit-Sighs
She moves through the lives of all of us here
  Touching us with her art that brings unfound magical beauty to everywhere
     Caressing us with her words that flow like a pure crystal shimmering spring
        From a soul that is  untouched by the world - resplendent in its unspoiled giving.
She comes to you and speaks - sometimes by not saying a word you can hear
   Lifting you with hands of inspiration to heights you thought you would ner again hope to dare
      But with her miracle touches under your wounded wings you find as you learn to fly again
          You have been granted a very special priviledge, she has called you friend, a sacred
                                                                                                                       blessing.
So never give up, nor never give in, for when Spirit-Sighs in your direction and smiles her sweet grin
You will find yourself believing once more in the magic of living.    
For you Tray from me
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YO
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Literature
The Magic of Michael
"BANG! BANG! You are dead!" I heard those words ring out from the voices of three little almost four year olds as I stood in the kitchen making Christmas cookies. Turning, surely there they were, the three fiercest and most wanted men in the Southwest, especially in Tucson. I grabbed my chest and surrendered my finished product with my last dramatic five minute dying act, the cookies then  were snatched from my hands, as the bandits ran off with a sure fire promise "We will be bacK!" Heard around the corner from the living room these words drifted into the kitchen as I got up from the floor, "Your mom dies the best of the whole neighborhood. She is fun to rob cookies from." I smiled and coughed as I did. A crease crossed my brow as I felt the first twinges of bronchitis hit me and it was five days before Christmas Eve. I was not going to get sick. No sir not me. Too much to do around the holidays, besides we had a Christmas movie to go see as soon as the last batch of cookies
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Literature
Dedicated to WeinenderEngel -
In the shadows of the day and the light dark of the night she stands -
Unable to Move
Unable to Breathe
Unable to stop the Tears
Unable to Believe
He washed her ore each day with the tender touch of his words but they have receded back to the world
Unable to Stop
Unable to See
Unable to Hear
Unable to Be
So she stands - and that is why they all think she is strong
So able to contemplate why she stands at all
In the shadows of the day and the light dark of the night she stands
Behind misty lace curtains as a wall of elegant wire that keeps her bound
Unable to Reason
Unable to Accept
Unable to Speak
Unable to be Understood By the Rest
she stands not as an oak against the hurricane
she stands as a dried out twig almost ready to break.
K
The mind, lone regent of itself, prolongs
The dark and silence; mirrors itself and
its deepest desires, delights -
in consciousness of consciousness, alone.
Sufficient, neyt, nimble dah, touched
with no small grace.
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Literature
CLICK-CLICK Red Shoes
Tap the Heels - CLICK CLICK - I yearn to go back to the meadows and flowers
Tap the Heels - CLICK CLICK - I want to see in my eyes the woman I was
I am tired of falling houses of the minutes of the day inhabited by the witches of seconds
whose curses bring to my soul pain
I am tired of scarecrows with no minds - so unable to grasp the conditions of those around them as legitimate and are unkind as they pass.
I am tired of tin men with no hearts, unable to feel another's agony or love and understand the beats they hear as either of the other, sacred. to be held.
I am tired of lions roaring empty threats out of spirits with no courage, in cowardice causing others to bear their stress as down the lane opposite they scurry.
I am tired of yellow gold brick roads leading to fake promised lands in which reside wizards with false  empty hopes in their dream tricks and impotent chants.
Tap the Heels - CLICK CLICK - I want to go back to the time before indifference of me began
Tap the
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Literature
The Night Of The Tarantula
The Star of the Sun had ruled the day, in her most ardent and fire casting rays
as they seemed to bounce from tile roof to tile roof in play as the girls in their dresses and the men in their shirt coats began to feel the passions of the music that was being played.
Couples were defined by the way they intertwined their bodies in the dances of the love of their land
Women in skirts layered in colors of all known dyes swirled and twirled as the men drew them back to their sides.
Twilight soon tried to pale the sky but the fires of the festival drove back the night's shadows
Till one by one they would disappear to find solace for their desires in the sheds and barns near.
Mexican guitars filled the night now with rhythms faster, magic was being woven till in the night
A Young Woman's scream all was shattered, she ran out of a shed with ebony hair free and wild
Time stopped - somewhere a word was said in quiet horrific reverence - Tarantula -
And the tears of the young woman were the answ
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Literature
A ROSE WITH NO THORNS
He, in such majestic splendor that eve did outshine the very torches
My heart, my breath, my soul then he did steal away when he called out my name.
Lost was I when his hand sheltered mine in dance divine when
in whispered tone he did upon me lay five words a rose with no thorns.
He, mighty in valor, diminishing all other, did seal forever my loyalty
When as we moved in gentle court delights, to my ear there came in flight
the first stroke of a note of a concerto to which we in jovial manner sway
A gift of music, a creation of his own passions, a rose with no thorns.
He, my faithfulness did cement forever in my deepest most intimate passionate spirit
When I heard how femininely majestic he saw me, ah so do speak the notes,of our unity
The brass, the horns, as they play, with undertone of gentle influence, delicate fingers laid
So speak the verses of the horns of a rose with no thorns.
Though, in breaking of hearts of two, he did in duty sworn to state comply in truth
Me finally he put
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Literature
Pond Of Stillness
Have you ever met the one whose smile melts all that surrounds you and reality flies higher than the breeze on the wings of a hawk, no even higher? If not then I wish you, oh I wish you
such a magical mystical stroke of luck.
Have you ever met the one whose voice can even in a whispered hush, float over your skin, causing sensations of such warmness you sigh in mere anticipation of their touch?
If not then I wish you fate shall grant that start.
Have you ever looked into the eyes of a stranger, peering in total rapture as you see yourself reflected back in them, feeling the pull to get closer, closer still?
If not then I wish that shall be for you destiny's will.
Have you ever burned with the very lightest of touches of one's finger merely on the top of your arm and find even in that first encounter the one who your heart has always desired?
If not then I shall pray with rapture's complete' powers of ecstasies soon you shall find that sacred fire.
Have you ever as lips close , then com
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Literature
W H E N
Trembling, delicately, not unlike the petals of spring's bravest blossoms dancing daringly in a late March wind, such like these brave fragile flowers are my fingers as with careful note of each inch of my hand's raising, the small fingertips are as brave steeds which ride these instruments of touch to rest finally upon thy visage -
                                     no - no - tis not enough
Even more bold now forge the steeds till finally my hand lay against thy cheek in refuge,
                                     both dreamed of and sought.
Bearing colors, each one a sacred mark of my deepest soul's yearnings, my eyes raise as two perfectly matched standards to herald in their shimmering the magnificence of the eyes into which they hesitantly at first, then with more confident perusal gaze deeper, your soul answers through your eyes.
                                     joy - joy -  they reverberate in a voice of thunder
Words I long to hear in sweetest whisperings once more, too
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Activity


deviantID

ShadowedElegance
Katarina Oberg
Artist | Literature
United States
Current Residence: Heading Home! At Last!Got a house to get ready for May!
Favourite genre of music: Anything played well
Favourite photographer: Ansel Adams, My Mom, My Aunt - My New Deviant Friends
Favourite style of art: Hard to choose, art like music is all good if done well and sincerely felt by the creator
Operating System: Windows XP
Favourite cartoon character: Pepe Le Pew-He has style!And he never gives up!Got to love that in a guy!-Charles Boyer Character
Personal Quote: "You can never look too closely, listen too hard, love too much, forgive too much,give too much
Interests

CHANGES WITHIN and WITHOUT

Mon Mar 20, 2006, 6:20 PM
Hear her cry
Piercing the Dawn
Tis a Cry
Dear To Most
Tis a Cry Dreary to One
Tis The Cry Of The Mourning Dove

I have moved! I was here shadowedelegance.deviantart.co… and now am here! lacolombededeuil.deviantart.co… all of you who knew me there will find eventually all my old works as well as my new ones at my new home!

Katarina:snowflake: :blackrose:   

  • Listening to: "A Rose With No Thorns" by Henry VIII
  • Reading: "The Complete Works Of Poe"
  • Watching: "Robin and Marion"

Friends

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconquestingpoet:
Questingpoet Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
:butterfly: thanks for letting me into your inner sanctum!
Reply
:iconcreativemikey:
creativemikey Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2009  Professional Photographer
You are never alone:peace::love:and Chocolate:hug:
Reply
:iconstapic:
Stapic Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2006  Professional Traditional Artist
i love the name Katarina;)
Reply
:iconaetereas:
Aetereas Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2006
:heart:
Reply
:iconwizillusions:
wizillusions Featured By Owner Mar 25, 2006  Hobbyist Writer
YOU HAVE BEEN KISSED!!!


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Reply
:iconlucye82:
lucye82 Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2006
:) thank u for the fav and all the comments!!!
Reply
:iconwizillusions:
wizillusions Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2006  Hobbyist Writer
YOU'VE BIN HIT BY THE



|^^^^^^^^^^^^| ,,
| SEXY TRUCK | '|""";.||.___.
|_..._...______==== _|__|..., ] |
"(@ )'(@ )""""*|(@ )(@ )*****(@)
Reply
:icondahklight:
Dahklight Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2006
Wonderous words describing the ocean, but my hate for the watery monster is too great for me to gain any joy from your words, only that you have writen them do they bring pleasure. And I do not know 8 people on this site so I am going to have to become not sexy and it would give me a headache to type out 8 trucks
Lots of joy and love Duncan
Reply
:iconkimoz:
kimoz Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2006  Professional Digital Artist
YOU'VE BIN HIT BY THE



|^^^^^^^^^^^^| ,,
| SEXY TRUCK | '|""";.||.___.
|_..._...______==== _|__|..., ] |
"(@ )'(@ )""""*|(@ )(@ )*****(@)



ONCE YOU'VE BEEN HIT, YOU HAVE TO HIT 8 PEOPLE! IF YOU GET HIT AGAIN YOU'LL KNO YOUR REALLI sexy! IF YOU BRAKE THE cHAIN, YOULL BE CURSED WITH UN*SEXYNESS FOR 10 YEARS SO PASS IT HIT WHO EVER YOU THINK IS sexy
(If you are of the same gender, this does not denote attraction. You will have to go a long distance to find a guy who will not at least acknowledge that Brad Pitt is good looking.)
Reply
:iconshadowedelegance:
ShadowedElegance Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2006   Writer
YOU GOT THAT RIGHT! Heart on,:heart: run through my soul :heart: - :heart: no stop - and into the very essence:heart: of:heart: me:heart: at 200 mphs! You make me tremble!:heart: And that is fine!:heart:

K:heart:
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