Tag Archive | poetry

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Here’s some more fiction and poetry from 2005, as I clean out my LiveJournal
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Pen between her teeth, she stares into space, muttering snatches of phrase. The words are always there, an ever-flowing stream across her mental meadow…

read on!

Originally posted Oct. 2011.
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“What have we here?”

Ruan wasn’t so much talking to herself as she was talking to the hodgepodge she was looking through. Her Aunt Tansy hadn’t been, as they say, The Aunt – she was a paternal aunt, for one thing, totally not the right sort, and Ruan’s Aunt Elenora was still alive and well – but the family tradition seemed to hold anyway. Her father’s sister had taken a long walk into the ocean, and it was left to Ruan to clean up her mess.

Read On!

The last war for the nation of Yestern ended not with a bang, but with a complaint.

“We’re out of tea.”.

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This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1315259.html. You can comment here or there.

Patreon: Reposts and Adventures.

Apr26

For today, in honor of looking through my LiveJournal archives, I offer some early-2000’s poetry.
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Unedited Prayer of Sorts

My lady of the verdant green, why have you forsaken me?
When I was a child, your oaken skirts shielded me
From interlopers and observers; simple faith carried me,
and simple ritual. nothing else was needed:

read on!

any people have speculated that if we knew exactly why a bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the Universe than we do now.
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Oh, no, not again.

The bowl of petunias plummeted towards the ground, no room in what it could pretend, loosely, was a brain for anything except a vague and dissatisfied sense of what, if you were going to translate it into Galactic Book Standard, would sound mostly like not again.

Read On!

History and memory did not go past the wall.

It was as tall as anyone could imagine, an unknown width, and it surrounded the Community, giving them room enough to live and grow but no more.

It could not be climbed, being smooth to the touch and unpleasant to be in contact with for any length of time. It could not be drilled through, nor broken. It could not be dug underneath.

Read On!

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1313611.html. You can comment here or there.

Other People’s Poetry: Storm Warnings

Jan7

Storm Warnings

The glass has been falling all the afternoon,
And knowing better than the instrument
What winds are walking overhead…

This, this is the poem I remember from High School. *taps it on the nose* Strongly, viscerally.

X-posted to tumblr

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/630795.html. You can comment here or there.

Protected: Poem

Apr12

A Rather Silly Pantoum for 3ww

Feb10

Three Word Wednesday is a once-weekly 3-word writing prompt.

This week’s three words were dare, essence, practical.

That it’s a poem is partly inspired by ysabetwordsmith‘s recent fishbowl, and partly by a discussion of poetic forms with Inventrix, and the poem she got out of that.

It’s a bit silly,but I like it.

“She’s nice, I guess,” Lenora sighed;
“My son and her, they get on well.
“She’s pretty, charming, dignified,
“But if there’s any sense in her, I can’t tell.”

“Jackson and her are getting on well,”
Lenora felt she could confide,
“But there’s no sense in the silly Nell.
“If it weren’t for me, they’d both have died.”

Lenora felt she could confide
In the women at the market dell
If it weren’t for her, they’d nigh on have died –
Her tales had served all of them well.

The women at the market dell
Listened, nodded, to Lenora’s sighs
They knew her tales; they’d served them well
But the essence-seller had the prize

They’d listened to all Lenora’s sighs
When the dark-haired woman began to sell
Her wares; she dared to price the prize
Quite dear; she knew its worth full well.

The dark-haired woman pitched her sale
“She’s pretty, charming, dab this in her eyes,
“Just four gold, to make her practical.”
“She’s worth the gold,” Lenora sighed.

Drakeathon 2/19-2/20/11

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