#an old poem that rings true still

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍

summary: zhongli and his lover take a walk around liyue harbour

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

warnings: angst, no comfort?, mention of death

genshin impact masterlist

can be read as a continuation of a million miles away

The ocean air carried the scent of salt into the streets of Liyue Harbour as cries of seagulls mixed with the chatter of the people perusing the assortment of wares to be bought. Street vendors were enticing potential customers to try their delicious dishes and children were weaving through the crowds while their parents frantically called for them to slow down.

Your bright laughter, clear as a bell, filled his ears and warmed his heart, the turn of his head as welcome as it was reflexive. Even against the bright displays of the shops, you shone much more radiantly with the sun illuminating your skin, highlighting the curl of your lips and the crinkles forming around your eyes with your amusement. It was a sight Zhongli would never tire of.

And then you turned your head towards him, eyes finding his and speaking of a love a thousand poems could not put into words. The former archon was certain he would never grow accustomed to the way your gaze mirrored the affection he felt for you, not if the irregular beating of his heart was any indicator.

As you intertwined your hand with his, Zhongli could feel the pressure of your wedding ring through the material of his glove and it made him starkly aware of the metal resting against his left ring finger. The thought brought him a sense of comfort, reminding him of the day you swore your oaths to one another and the home you shared, how his existence on this mortal plane finally had a true purpose anchoring him there.

Passing by Bubu Pharmacy on your way to Yujin Terrace, the quiet whisper of the ponds enveloped you both in tranquillity as you left the bustle of Feiyun Slope behind you. Instead of street food, the scent of silk flowers and glaze lilies accompanied the slow descent of the sun, whereas Zhongli and you ascended the flight of stairs as if to meet it on its endless journey.

With his arms resting on the parapet overlooking the Harbour, he had a magnificent view of Chihu Rock being dipped into the amber colour of dusk as the vivid foliage of the sandbearer trees lining the streets seemed to glow from within. Even the vastness of the ocean didn’t go untouched as it stretched on endlessly and waves of liquid ruby crashed against the docks of the city.

Over his long life, Zhongli had seen great a many sunsets and sunrises, yet, ever since coming up here with you, he found himself far more fond of them than before. Instead of regarding nature’s artistry with Liyue as its canvas, he watched as the last rays of the day painted your face in golden light, speckling your eyes with bursts of colour one would only notice on closer inspection. A privilege only he had the honour of enjoying.

“Still coming here, I see?” A familiar voice broke the silence settling over Yujing Terrace. He needn’t even tear his eyes from the scenery to know who had stepped next to him.

“Habits are hard to break once they have formed. Especially for beings like us,” he mused. “Is it not so, Streetward Rambler?”

“I’m well aware, Rex Lapis,” the woman chuckled. The light-heartedness, however, was short-lived as his old friend sighed, clearly wanting to say something. “It has been quite a while though. As someone who has known you for much longer than most, I cannot help but worry.”

“I appreciate your genuine concern.” Finger slipping under the collar of his coat, Zhongli pulled out a delicate necklace which he cannot remember ever taking off. On it dangled the wedding band matching his, twinkling in the light of the evening. Gently taking hold of it, he pressed the metal against his lips; when he closed his eyes, he could trick himself into believing the warmth it radiated still came from you, not himself. “Yet there is nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Zhongli…”

“It is said that the God of Contracts had an impressive memory, able to recall the face of every person he met,” he began. “Though, I am not sure whether this is a blessing or a curse. From their laughter to the feel of their hand in mine… I can so vividly picture these scenes, the memories seem to take on a life of their own. This way, even from wherever they are now, they still manage to stir these emotions within me. On days such as this, it is easy to foolishly extend my hand into the golden sunlight as I see them return to me.”

Watching the former archon grasp the aureate ring within his palm, the adeptus next to him reached out to put her hand on his arm in a hopefully soothing gesture. “I am very sorry. Although farewells are never easy, losing the person you cherished most leaves us feeling more forlorn than anything.”

“Even if I tried, I do not think it possible for them to leave me. Not when birds sing the melody of their laughter and afternoon tea is the temperature of their embrace.” Slowly, the glow of the sun dimmed and dwindled from sight. “No, it is the nights devoid of this golden warmth which are the loneliest of them all.”

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄ #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #genshin angst #zhongli x reader #zhongli angst #zhongli genshin impact

[happilychaengs]

Nayeon - Tapes

a/n: had a spark of inspiration. this entire thing is from nayeon's pov. this took a lot of courage to even try and i don't know if this was worth posting or not but i tried doing something new, plot wise and writing wise. didn't proofread so it may have some errors.

word count: 1,219

angst

nayeon x gender neutral reader

When the doorbell rang, I almost couldn't bring myself to stand up and answer it. Not until I heard your name.

"Package for Y/N!" I... couldn't believe it. My chest was tight. My head hurt.

When I saw a box with your name signed on it at my doorstep, everything I've held back finally burst through the floodgates. I cried and cried, each tear staining the cardboard box even more than the last.

I almost didn't have the courage to bring it in but something in me needed to know what it was. There were so many tapes inside, each labeled with different dates. Now I know why you got me a VHS player all those months ago.

Tape 1 - 9/25/21

There you were with a happy smile. As happy as you could have been when you were in a hospital gown, all those syringes pinned inside your arm. You sat down in front of a white wall and yet your eyes were still so bright, almost somehow filling the entire screen with color. You looked so hopeful.

"Hi Nayeon!" You waved directly to the camera with a bright smile and almost for a second, I feel like I'm with you again. Like I'm standing in front of you just having a conversation like any ordinary day with you.

You say all the right things to make me smile despite it all. "I miss you tons already, Nayeon. All these doctors have just been feeding me so much medicine and it's all so disgusting!" You stick your tongue out playfully in disgust, a habit you've picked up from your older sister.

"And all the nurses have been side eyeing me lately for some reason. Maybe it was because I ate another sandwich when they told me not to... oops!" You laugh again and it rings in my ears so clearly. I loved your hearty laugh. The way it always made me laugh too and you'd tease me for it saying I shouldn't be laughing at you.

"I didn't want to sit in my bed all day and watch old people television so I asked for some favors and here I am now before you! Your great protector Y/N!" A nickname you gave yourself when you once killed a cockroach that crawled into my shoes.

"I also know I've been out of tune with the trends lately but I learned this from Jeongyeon when she visited earlier!" Then you dabbed like it wasn't a dead trend for years already, you giggling to yourself as you did it. God, you and Jeongyeon were such dorks together. I wish you knew she misses you a lot too.

Then a person, maybe a doctor or a nurse, was heard outside your room. Something about you going to get your treatment. You just nodded at them as you looked back to the camera, your smile still on your face.

"That's all for now, Nay! But don't worry! I'll be back!" You said in that annoying terminator impression of yours that I secretly loved. I wish I told you.

Tape 2 - 10/01/21

"Happy Anniversary, darling!" You shouted as you pulled on a small confetti popper. "I'm really sorry that we can't celebrate our anniversary together because of me but I wanted to record this to tell you how much I love you!"

You pulled out a small piece of paper which I could definitely recognize as a poem. You always did that on our anniversaries. Something new and original every year albeit sometimes they didn't make sense because you wanted to rhyme but that didn't matter. I loved them all.

Clearing your throat, you read it aloud with a stupid accent you say is 'just like Shakespeare!'

"Like a sunshine to the horizon, you were bound to light up my world.

Like water to the ocean, I feel like we're inseparable.

Whatever I say is true, I give you my word.

You're my one true love, irreplaceable.

Even when I sit here surrounded by death,

The thought of you gives me life.

I wish to love you till my very last breath,

So someday I may call you my wife."

You folded up the paper and set it down, staring directly at the camera with your ever bright smile. "Well! I hope you liked it! I really tried hard for that one since you know... can't take you out anywhere right now." And if only you knew how much that poem meant to me right now.

Tape 3 - 10/11/21

"Hey Nay!" You still haven't lost the glow in your eyes yet as you coddled the small teddy bear I gave you that day. "I know you just visited me but I couldn't help but want to sit down and record another tape for you in secret! I really miss you a lot but I'm glad I can have Mr. Cuddles by my side." I felt a small smile at my lips as I finally figured out what you named that bear that came along with the tapes.

"I also made a new friend here that I didn't tell you last time! I became friends with one of the nurses and now they sometimes give me extra food but don't tell anyone! It's our little secret..." You whispered.

I missed those parts of you. The social butterfly that could become friends with anyone even when you were bed ridden and that sort of free spirit you possessed. Not bound by anything. I wished those parts of you I could try to imitate at least but you really are irreplaceable.

You spoke up again as you tried peering out of your rooms windows and into the hallway. "I think I got to go but I'll definitely come back, Nayeon. Promise." I wish you kept it. Why'd you have to be so bad with promises?

Tape 4 - 12/15/21

"Nayeon. You heard the doctors." Your eyes were filled with such despair, the colors missing now. An apparent void in you. "I've... decided that these tapes will only make it to you if I..." you choked out, "if I die. If you ever see these then... I'm sorry for not being strong enough. For not fighting harder for you."

I wish you didn't say that. I should have been there for you. I should have fought harder with you. Water pooled in my eyes as my hands faltered on the remote, wanting to pause it and forget about it all but how could I ever forget? I love you.

"Nayeon. If I'm really gone, I... want you to move on if you haven't already by the time you're watching this. I know how stubborn you are. If we were really meant for each other then... I'll find you in our next life but for now please move on. For me." Maybe the only thing you could've asked me that I can't do.

"For the rest of my time, I'll record some more tapes for you just to cheer you up if I really am gone but I'm sorry if I sound a little... sad. It comes with the diagnosis." You let out a low chuckle as you reached over to the camera and shut it off, leaving me alone again.

#im nayeon x reader #nayeon x reader #nayeon angst #im nayeon imagines #im nayeon scenarios #nayeon imagines #nayeon scenarios #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice scenarios #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #twice angst #im nayeon angst

[firewoodfigs]

remember, beloved (also on ao3)

In your younger days, your father spoke the gospel, like God himself: how can you know who is evil? How can you know who is good? He starved the kitchen, but his words rang through and true. How can you know anything when you’re just a child?

Years later, you still don’t know. The edges of truth are always jagged, rough and ugly. You wish no one ate that apple. You wish you stayed ignorant. You wish your mind stayed suspended in the wings of make-believe—your only juvenile salvation—like curtains on a traverse rod, cloaking the bleak apertures of unworn socks. One moment you’re playing tag with your ragtag band of friends. The next, their body blown to rags. Only their dog tags returned. And each day barks, like a dog, violent and scared.

Someone out there tags you with a new face, a new name. You wish it were that easy to forget. It’s as the poets said—love is so short, forgetting is so long.

You remember hearing your friends say before, over a game of poker, that most, if not all of life is a gamble. So you wait and wonder if anyone will take their odds on you, when they discover they’ve been stacked against you from the start.

Elsewhere, someone pilfers a win. You sit with your loss, dressing it up in polished Berlutis until it’s time to go. Grief slips away, momentarily; a father in the night with secrets to hide.

By fate, or by chance, or some incredible happenstance, someone does. Someone takes their odds on you. The die rolls. And dawn, like a strained smile, breaks again, but the slant of light that creeps in is tenuous at best.

Morning comes, and with it old ghosts. Your mother’s legacy speaks another truth: to love again is to gift someone a blade. You give them power over you. You give them the power to hurt you. You give them the power to crucify what you tried to bring back to life. You give them your end. What she omitted to say was, you give them your beginnings, too. The genesis is always the most frightening bit, tremulous and unclear in its wake. And how can you have faith, when you’ve grown so cynical? But when you taste the apples in her mouth, you think neither of Eve, nor the snake that doomed us all to hell. You just think it’s sweet. Soft, like a mist. Perfect, like Eden before sin.

Against all odds, it seems, love came knocking. One day your hands are drenched red; the next it's laced in your lover’s. Who claims you as hers. Who writes on your body, a brand new poem; sunshine and salvation.

Now you stand in the kitchen, born anew; an island of love and light stretching beyond all contours of time. Your lover’s words ring through and true. Remember, beloved, that you are dearly loved.

#poetry #twiyor #yes this is about mr forger 😔 psych! #sxf #spy x family #character study?? #don’t mind me i’m just going wild with the religious symbols here #writing

[kisilinramblings]

Passion - Translation

What everyone thinks of the love square reversal

========================================

Alya : What are you talking about? How come you are in love with Chat Noir?

Marinette : I don’t see why you are so surprised about, Alya.

Alya : What is surprising me is that until now, you were madly in love with Adrien. 

*Alya points at the bulletin board which has  Adrien’s pictures*

Marinette : *covers it* A-Adrien, yes. But loving Adrien was all but a good idea.

*Alya is not convinced*

Marinette : So, my love for Adrien allowed Shadow Moth to take me 15 Miraculouses. That’s why loving Chat Noir is THE good idea. Chat Noir is cute, very attractive even. Super competent. His jokes are less annoying than before which make him super cool. And the cherry on top, he is in love with me. You see, it’s perfect!

Alya : Euh... he is in love with Ladybug.

Marinette : And we both know it is the same thing! 

Alya : But he doesn’t know that. And you cannot tell him anything. You are finding yourself a new love interest conveniently when Adrien starts to be really interested in you. Coincidence? I think not. Aren’t you just trying to run away from your feelings?

Marinette : No, not at all. I really don’t see what I could be running away from. I have nothing to run from. And anyway, it’s time to go to school.

*Marinette falls from her bed*

Alya : At 7 a.m.?

Marinette : Exactly! If you don’t want to be late, 7 a.m. is the perfect time. See? New love, new habits! This is the proof I am right to love Chat Noir!

*Marinette leaves*

Alya : She has left with her pajamas still on. 

==================================

Plagg : Marinette, Marinette. You only have her name is your mouth! What about Ladybug? Are you throwing her away like an old cheese crust left on the cheese board?

Adrien : No, Plagg, she is wonderful, but she isn’t in love with me. So, it is about time I am leaving her alone so she could pick the cheese she loves the most.

Plagg : Maybe Marinette is not in love with you as well.

Adrien : I just need to ask her to know. Hide.

===================================

Skipping the (odd) Agreste family breakfast

===================================

Adrien (to Plagg) : Have you seen the ring Nathalie is wearing? I’m happy my father and her are getting along. 

(Translator’s note : spoilers alert, they are more like divorced parents trying to keep appearances).

Adrien : A ring! Why don’t I give a ring to Marinette?

Plagg : Roh! Don’t tell me you are going to ask for her hand!

Adrien : That would be a bit too much, don’t you think? But I could confess my feelings to her during recesss. Or I could write her a poem! What do you think about it?

Plagg : A poem? For Marinette? My poor Adrien, we write a poem to declare our love for cheese! *eats*. And until proven otherwise, Marinette is not a camembert.

Adrien : Thanks for your help, but I think I need real advices.

===================================

Skipping to Plagg and Tikki’s scene

===================================

Plagg : Sugarcube, the situation is even more rotten than that old brie part I am keeping in case of emergency! My Holder is in love with your Holder!

Tikki : Oh, but this is excellent news! You too know she is madly in love with him.

Plagg : Excellent news?! It’s cataclysmic, you mean! What will happen when they will savor their love? In less than 2 seconds, they will tell each other everything. “I love you”, “you love me”, kiss, kiss, kiss! “I’m Ladybug”, “You are Chat Noir” and BOOM! It’s the end of the world!

Tikki : Don’t worry, Plagg. Nothing as such will happen. My Holder is running away from her true feelings by choosing an impossible love with Chat Noir.

Plagg : Euh... Sugarcube, allow me to doubt. You know that my Holder and Chat Noir are the same person, right?

Tikki : I am well aware, but not my Holder!

Plagg : If she declares her love to Chat Noir, something tells me it won’t be long for her to find out.

Tikki : You have no reasons to worry. When my Holder is in love, she is unable to do anything. She is going to knit beanies, and create plans that have no chance to work. 

Plagg : Hmm... Phew... In that case, everything is going for the better.

#miraculous ladybug #ml season 5 #ml s5 spoilers #ml spoilers #passion #ml s5ep7

[raayllum]

decided i’d toss my own “tdp soundtrack title predictions” hat into the ring, given that i haven’t gotten to one of these since S3 aired, and damn the nostalgia

full track list here with S4 seemingly being from 1-28, and S5 from 29-62. also not going to be talking about every track as some (“rescue at the great bookery” and “threate in the forest” for ex) seem pretty self explanatory, and with that all out of the way, let’s get into it

31. I Haven’t Forgotten (3:41) — Could easily see this being an early Viren and/or Aaravos focused scene, as Aaravos holding a grudge kinda necessitates having a good ass memory - maybe even something that relates to Zubeia as well, since she’s ancient in her own way and is clearly gonna have her own role to play this season.

32. Seeking Answers (3:05) — Likely in 5x01 with the group returning to Katolis, perhaps centred on Callum and Rayla individually well, seeking answers. For Rayla, this could mean looking into the dungeons about her family and finding Runaan’s bow. We also get Rayla’s voice over (and clip) that appears to be her in Ezran’s old room in the S5 trailer asking “How do we kill a Startouch elf?” so that and/or answers about Aaravos’ prison may be what they go to Lux Aurea to, well, seek. 

34. My Most Eager Student (4:58) — First Viren and Kpp’Ar conversation (which the implication he had more than one student if that’s the case?? Fascinating) perhaps, or Aaravos reflecting on Claudia, as it seems she will fully be stepping into her own as Aaravos’ protege this season

35. Keep Moving (3:01) — Terry and Claudia, since Viren won’t wake up, realizing that they can’t wait any longer and have to start moving. Maybe end of 5x01 or 5x02?

39. In Your Dreams (1:55) — Callum and/or Viren and/or Zubeia having dreams/nightmares regarding their respective fears?

40. A Familiar Warning (2:04) — Karim and Sol Regem, maybe, beginning to barter, or a warning from Kpp’Ar that Viren disregarded, cutting to the present day with Terry giving the same one to Claudia that she likewise ignores?

42. Stay Safe (2:17) — Some sort of temporary farewell between Amaya and Janai (splitting up library things?) or Claudia and Terry (leading to her getting attacked by the water dragon?) or Ezran (+ Zym) briefly splitting up from his crownguard 

43. Father and Daughter (1:37) — Claudia and Viren most likely, maybe one of the flashbacks to when Soren was sick and how Claudia was introduced to dark magic as a Fix it solution. “I love you Daddy” out of context spoiler?

44. Like Aunt, Like Nephew (2:46) — A conversation between Amaya and Callum or Janai and Rayla about Amaya and Callum, probably. Could be either their good, protective natures, their hair, or their tendency to make some dark humoured off colour jokes

45. We Can Help Them (2:26) — Rayla telling Callum about the coins, and him offering to help and/or Karim being determined that he can still reverse the corrupted core and save the zombiefied elves. If we do get a flashback to Aaravos’ younger years, I could also see him having this viewpoint about humanity (however ‘true’ it is).

50. Times Are Changing (2:21) — Relations between humans and elves in New Aurea / human-dragon Zubeia and Ezran related stuff? This could also be closer to when the Dragang reunite and put the pieces together. Callum and Rayla with whatever they learned about (murdering?) Startouch elves and Ezran with what was gleaned from Evenere (probably the location of Aaravos’ prison, if Callum & co. can decipher the riddle/poem verses)

51. Blood Moon Rises (1:30) — Karim bartering with Kim’Dael, or her showing up of her own accord. Currently leaning toward Rayla and Kim’Dael perhaps not running into each other this season, but if Amaya and Janai bear witness/survive her villainy, Rayla would surely remember and be able to piece it together based on description, leading to a confrontation later

52. If You Kill Me Now (1:59) — Aaravos versus Archdragon confrontations / Viren demanding answers from Aaravos / Kim’Dael and Karim? Janai? / Callum and Rayla possession conversation callback. Either way, delicious, and speaks to the prevalence of murder in this damn children’s show

53. The Wounded Return (2:13) — A failed attempt to take back the corrupted core in Lux Aurea? Or speaks to the idea of “a festering wound” (out of context spoiler). If the kids have had their pirate escapade, this could also be related to the injuries we see Callum sustain in the trailer, which would make sense if anyone else had been hurt as well (hence, plural wounded) 

54. To Kill an Archdragon (3:03) — Lore on Luna Tenebris’ death (or something we don’t know about Avizandum’s) or a threat on Zubeia’s life. If Sol Regem has been corrupted by the corrupted core or is just threatening Janai’s reign, figuring out how to stop him will also be crucial 

55. Not Yours to Give (4:50) — Been wondering if Karim would even be able to free Kim’Dael, since he’s not the proper heir, and Aditi herself said that the magic was a kind “that takes”. This could also be an Aaravos related flashback since he ‘gave’ humanity something they ‘shouldn’t have’ — whether it was related to primal magic alongside the unicorns, or was the discovery / inclination towards dark magic, we’ll have to see. Could be Viren curing Soren and/or Callum ‘giving’ the Moon fam freedom (but again, have to see). Looking at the “gift giving” motif real meaningfully

56. Deadwood Deserves Dignity (3:03) — If a pirate dies or an according ship is ruined? ‘Deadwood’ isn’t a place in Xadia and sounds like a very pirate-y, seafaring moniker to me

62. Tomorrow the Sun Will Rise (3:07) — So I’ve said before that nothing good ever really happens at dawn/sunrise in this show (Sarai and the queens of Duren dying, Callum’s possession, etc) and I don’t think this is an exception. Karim cites that “This empire is ending, that the rising sun is now a falling star!” so if he’s taken over the kingdom by this point, his tendency to metaphoric language would make sense. A rising sun is also mentioned in Aaravos’ short story, Ripples, following a world changing transformation: “The humans huddled together, scarcely daring to breathe, awaiting the rise of the sun. And when the long, dark night had finally passed—for the sun must always rise, mustn’t it?—they gazed out upon an unfamiliar landscape.” Which also bodes well for predictions that Aaravos will be fully released by the end of S5 as well. 

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp meta #predictions #s5 spoilers #soundtrack #mine #arc 2 #s5 speculation #s5 #tdp spoilers

[briannaswords]

It hit you like a shotgun shot to the heart

(@the-world-is-a-poem you said to tag you the next time I post anything I wrote so uh here haha. enjoy?)

The first time Zahra realised she loved Dawn

Zahra isn’t nervous that Dawn’s at her house for the first time. No! Not at all. Why would she be nervous? It’s just her stupid old house. She shouldn’t care what Dawn thinks of it. Doesn’t care.

Sure, she spends twenty minutes cleaning her room and the living room….and longer cleaning the dining room and the kitchen but that’s just because she doesn’t want Dawn to think she lives in a pigsty.

Though, Zahra doesn’t think Dawn would judge her, even if she did live in a pigsty. Dawn’s the only person outside of her family who’s been genuinely supportive after the whole…Chris mess. And she barely knows her.

Their friendship feels weird. Weird in a good way but…still weird. Zahra knows how Dawn’s breath evens out when she sleeps, knows exactly how to hold her to get her to sleep, knows how to calm her down after a panic attack, knows intimately about her recurring nightmares. Zahra knows that Dawn’s gay and her parents aren’t supportive of it or her at all, she knows that Dawn plays violin, she knows that Dawn’s sister inspired her to play guitar but she doesn’t know what Dawn’s favourite colour is, her favourite song or even when her birthday is. In some ways, Dawn feels like Zahra’s best friend. Other times, Zahra feels like she barely knows her at all, that this alliance they built up over the Christmas holidays is fragile, dependent on both of them having nightmares and waking up too early in the morning because of them.

Maybe that’s what this is. They’re walking a tightrope between true friends and almost-strangers and this, Zahra cracking her knuckles and shyly inviting Dawn to her house over the weekend, is the cut that will force them to one location.

If Zahra was nervous, this would be why.

But she’s not nervous. Not at all.

She runs to the door when she hears the bell rings. It’s early, early enough that Dad and Jessica haven���t left for the dance studio yet.

“Who’s that?” She yells, from the kitchen. Zahra doesn’t bother to deign her with an answer as she pulls open the door.

“Hi.” Dawn’s wearing a dark green flannel (which Zahra is starting to suspect is her favourite item of clothing because of how often she wore it at camp), a light-green t shirt and baggy jeans. 

And Zahra’s not nervous but Dawn must see something on her face because her small smile fades into something concerned. “Is…is it okay that I came this early?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine. Come in.” Zahra tugs Dawn inside just as Má comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “Má, this is my friend. Dawn.”

“Nice to meet you, Dawn,” Má smiles but Zahra can see the surprise on her face. Zahra rolls her eyes. She hasn’t really mentioned Dawn too much to her mum, just said vaguely that she made a few good friends at camp, because talking about Dawn means talking about school which means thinking about Chris and Zahra never wants to think about him ever again. He takes up enough space in her nightmares. “Where did you two meet?”

“We shared a dorm at camp—“ Zahra starts to say but Jason pushes past her, running like wild animals are chasing him. In reality it’s just one wild animal, Jessica, who’s screaming like a madwoman. 

“Jason! Give me back my shoes I’m going to be late!”

“Say sorry for calling me a butthead!”

“No! You are a butthead!”

“Ay dios, guys! Can you stop acting like circus animals for two seconds of your life!” Zahra snaps, grabbing onto Jason’s arm as he tries to sprint around her again.

“Tell Jason that!” Jessica retorts, curls falling in her face. She’s going to have to redo her ponytail—there’s barely any of it left. “He’s the one acting like a butthead!”

“Stop calling me a butthead!”

“Stop acting like a butthead, then!”

“Stop saying butthead!” Zahra yells so, of course, Jason and Jessica turn to her and, at the top of their lungs, yell: “BUTTHEAD!”

“Mechi onu!” Luckily, Má can yell louder. “We have neighbours! It’s too early for this argument. Jason, finish your breakfast. Jessica, get your things, your Dad is waiting.” She pushes Jason towards the kitchen, snatching Jessica’s shoes back as she does so. “Lovely to meet you, Dawn! If you need anything, let me know, okay?” She adds, in her normal, cheerful voice. Zahra will never understand how she fluctuates between Angry Mother and Gracious Hostess so quickly.

“Sorry about the chaos. Sometimes I think my parents adopted Jessica and Jason from a farm,” Zahra says, as they go up the stairs to her room. Dawn laughs, loud and sudden.

“It makes things exciting, though, doesn’t it?”

“If by exciting, you mean ‘headache-inducing’ then, yeah! You’re right!”

Dawn laughs again and Zahra thinks it might just be her new favourite sound.

Dawn stops in the doorway of Zahra’s room. Zahra raises her eyebrows.

“What are you doing?”

“Just…looking.”

Zahra snorts. “Why? It’s just my room. There’s nothing wildly interesting about it.”

“I disagree. You are a very interesting person, Zahra Jiménez,” Dawn smiles. Something stirs in Zahra’s stomach. She ignores it, flopping down on her bed and leaning against the headboard as Dawn slowly traces her shelves.

“You won something?” She asks, pointing at the trophy. “Was it a music thing?”

“Nah it was—uh—dance.” Zahra had forgotten about it, almost hadn’t packed it when they left Aramoor because she’d thrown it into the corner of her small room in a fit of rage when she’d first expressed her desire to stop dance and Pa hadn’t taken it…amazingly. It was the last thing she’d achieved, dance-wise, before she quit and, as a result, it holds some rather bittersweet memories.

“You danced?” Dawn says, eyebrows raised because—right, Zahra hadn’t told her. It’s not a topic she loves talking about. 

“Yeah, well. When you’re the daughter of the great Mateo Jiménez, there are some things you can’t escape.” Zahra looks down, picking at the hem of her joggers. “I stopped when I was eleven.”

“That’s when you started playing violin, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever won anything for that? For music?”

Zahra snorts, then clears her throat. “D’you want to watch a movie? I have Netflix on my laptop.”

Dawn hesitates, an unreadable look in her eye, but it’s gone before Zahra can try and decipher it. She nods, stepping forward but still straying close to the doorway. “Can we watch Pride and Prejudice?”

Zahra rolls her eyes fondly. “You’re obsessed with that movie.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

Zahra shakes her head and reaches for her laptop. Dawn stays where she is, eyes swivelling around the room, never landing in one place for more than a couple of seconds. She looks restless in a way Zahra hasn’t seen since the first days of camp. When Zahra entered the dorm and Dawn’s smile was small and shaky, like she thought Zahra would reject her on principle, like she was worried about Zahra’s reaction, like…like…like….

Like she was nervous.

Dawn’s nervous.

So Zahra pats the space next to her and smiles as softly as she can. “You’re gonna watch it from all the way over there?”

And Dawn returns the smile, clambering next to Zahra on the bed. Halfway into the movie, she leans on Zahra, tentatively, as if Zahra will push her away if she gets too close. Instead, Zahra wraps her arm around Dawn’s shoulders, pulling her closer. She’s engulfed in that same, familiar scent from camp—something earthy and sweet and quintessentially Dawn.

She likes it.

And, afterwards, when the film ends and they spend half an hour bickering about what they’re going to watch next, all Zahra can think about is how she hasn’t felt this comfortable since…Aramoor. She can’t help but think about how natural this feels, when they go down to the kitchen and Zahra heats up the first thing she can find in the fridge for Dawn, when Dawn insists that Zahra eat too, when they go back up to Zahra’s room and sit cross-legged across each other on the floor. When Dawn smiles up at her, Zahra feels something warm burst in her chest because…the tightrope is gone. It snapped somewhere between Zahra inviting Dawn in and seeing her laugh at Jessica and Jason’s antics and asking so gently about the trophy, saying ‘you won something?’ but meaning ‘I want to know you, please dear god let me know you’ and Zahra being able to read Dawn’s eyes well enough to know the words she’s not saying and holding each other while Mr Darcy confessed his love for Elizabeth Bennett and ribbing each other for their taste in movies and now, sitting on Zahra’s bedroom floor eating leftover mac and cheese.

In the silence, Zahra feels it, that quiet certainty. They’re friends now. Proper friends.

It feels good.

She smiles back at Dawn. She says nothing but her eyes shine with all the words she wants to say: thank you for coming and I want you to come again if anything so I can give you a better lunch than yesterday’s dinner and I want to know you too and I hope we keep getting closer.

I love you. Please, dear god, let me love you.

#I was proud of it so here it is #otp: I never knew I could feel this much #oc: zahra #oc: dawn #bri writes #(haven't done that in a while lol) #title from getaway car by the legend herself t swift

[tathrin]

Okay but ever since reading this post I have been utterly consumed by the thought that on one hand, this knowledge changes absolutely nothing because the text is exactly as queer (read: very) as it always was, and yet at the same time it sort of recontextualizes everything enormously because if Tolkien had a gay friend, if Tolkien was actively down with gay fiction, then the fact that he wrote the absolute most perfect example of a Queer Happily Ever After ever was no accident.

This was not some oblivious Old British Fellow writing about Those Deep Platonic Bonds Between Men with no clue or awareness that there could be other types of love bonds between men. This was not "Oh lol, look how gay these characters turned out! completely unintended on the author's part obvs, but still wow super gay!" This was not Tolkien being Too Straight(TM) to realize that life beyond the cisheteronormative default existed. He knew. He knew, which means there is no way this was not purposeful.

And of course it’s not explicitly stated that they’re wedded partners in the sense that Éowyn marrying Faramir was, or Sam and Rosie, or Aragorn and Arwen, or any of the other het-couples married in the books. Nobody in England in the forties was talking about gay marriage, not as any sort of legally recognized possibility. “Legal recognition“ then still meant jail and disgrace. (He knew what they did to Turing. He knew what they did to Wilde.) Tolkien knew that, and honestly his own feelings about whether or not it was "moral" by the standards of his religion and society are irrelevant; he accepted it enough to accept and praise those stories, those writers. To be friends with W. H. Auden to the extent that the two of them wrote birthday poems for each other!

And Tolkien turned around and wrote Legolas and Gimli sailing away from Middle-earth to go to Valinor and live happily ever after together.

Think about that in the framing of the time it was written, in the context of Tolkien having a gay friend; in the context of Tolkien respecting and praising stories with gay lovers. Nobody in the forties expected marriage equality, or even a separate-but-equal civil union stand-in. Nothing like that, not even close. But Tolkien wrote “Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. And when that ship passed an end was come in the Middle-earth of the Fellowship of the Ring.”

He didn't write "and then Legolas and Gimli were wed," because that wasn't something he likely would have been able to get either his head or his society around. Likewise he didn't write "Boromir was ace" because he wouldn't have know what that meant, even if he’d meant it (and it’s hard to read the line "taking no wife and delighting chiefly in arms” and not see it as some form of asexuality, tbh) just like he didn’t use that sort of language when he talked about the Dwarves who preferred their crafts to marriages, etc. (There are a lot of aro/ace-coded and otherwise queer-coded folks in these books aside from just our most obvious Hobbits, Elf, and Dwarf, if you’ve never noticed.) We have to remember to take the time period into consideration, and understand what he would have known how to write and what he wouldn’t have. I’m not asking anyone to pretend that this story was somehow written with prescient knowledge of the modern world; I’m asking people to actually look at the text as it was written, in the time it was written, and interpret it that way, rather than by our modern standards.

Because here’s what he did write:

We have heard tell that Legolas took Gimli Glóin’s son with him because of their great friendship, greater than any that has been between Elf and Dwarf. If this is true, then it is strange indeed: that a Dwarf should be willing to leave Middle-earth for any love, or that the Eldar should receive him, or that the Lords of the West should permit it. But it is said that Gimli went also out of desire to see again the beauty of Galadriel; and it may be that she, being mighty among the Eldar, obtained this grace for him. More cannot be said of this matter.

Tell me that is not the absolute epitome of a Queer Happy Ending? Tell me that it isn’t making you cry, thinking about Tolkien coming up with the closet thing he could conceive of to an “and then they were married and lived happily together to the end of their days” ending for two male characters who loved each other. They literally break the rules to go to magical heaven together; there is nothing more queer than that. NOTHING. Especially when you add “more cannot be said of this matter.” Why can’t more be said? Because that’s how you wrote queer stories back then, isn’t it? Certainly it’s how Tolkien would have, medievalist that he was, writing an (invented) epic legend.

Tolkien lived in a world where two men could never be married either legally or in the eyes of any established church, and he knew this. He may or may not have even thought it was right that they should want to be; it doesn’t matter. Because he still gave us the closest thing to a Happy Gay Ending—to a Happy Gay Wedding—that he could have imagined. He still thought that that was what was right and good and deserved for these two characters. They broke all the rules of both their people, and went to the Undying Lands together. That is absolute PEAK queer love, tbh. We love each other so much that the rules don’t matter. We love each other so much that the disapproval of gods don’t matter. We love each other so much that we don’t care if other people think it’s strange or wrong, we’re going to do it anyway and you can’t stop us because we love each other THAT MUCH. Tolkien wrote them that way, and then he wrote them sailing to heaven together in the end.

How many times in history—including in the time period in which Tolkien was living—did you have “confirmed bachelors or spinsters” putting their lives together, traveling together, living together, without any hope of a legal union (or any religious ceremony officiated by an established organization for that matter, although some of them had ceremonies of their own to be sure) to recognize their love, or even any surety that their families would allow their graves to lie alongside one another once they were dead and unable to protect themselves, but refusing to be parted anyway?

Tell me that doesn’t resonate when you think of Legolas and Gimli. Legolas and Gimli, who should have been as sundered after Gimli’s death as any other elf and mortal, and yet were not. And yet found a way to be together against all the rules of their world and the forces that should have governed their fates. “You are a Wood-elf, anyway, though Elves of any kind are strange folk. Yet you comfort me. Where you go, I will go. Strange it may seem...” and “Strange it may seem, but while Gimli lives I shall not come to Fangorn alone...” and “You shall come with me and keep your word; and thus we will journey on together to our own lands in Mirkwood and beyond.” Read those lines and tell me that doesn’t read that way, if you can.

When you look at Legolas and Gimli in the context of queer relationships of Tolkien’s era, in fact, the text reads as even more queer rather than less, I think. Often modern readers are accused of projecting the views of today onto stories written in the past when we claim to see deliberate queerness in the subtext, but in this case looking at the text from the position of the past, it does very much the opposite. And I don’t know why I never looked at it that way before, because I know my queer history well enough to have seen this sooner—save that I suppose I’m so used to looking at queer subtext in older fiction under the premise of “unintended queerness” rather than thinking the author might have done it with full knowledge and deliberation—but oh, this time I think it was deliberate. This time I think it had to have been.

Tolkien gave them not just a but rather the best Queer Happy Ending.

And we’ve allowed cisheteronormative revisionist interpretations of the text to blind us to that reality. To be read as the “natural default” of all books, even when they aren’t. And frankly, if you actually read the text as it is written rather than letting all the homophobic drivel we’ve been inundated with all our lives to obscure what’s actually there, then it’s clear enough that I posit that from now on, it’s anyone trying to take a heteronormative view on Legolas and Gimli’s relationship that has to find evidence in the text to support their position, rather than the other way around. Because we have no reason to take straightness as the automatic default here, and every reason in the world to look at this relationship and take it as written instead. And frankly my friends, it is written extremely queer.

Now, is there any way to actually "know" what Tolkien was specifically thinking or intending here? No, obviously, not unless someone finds a note or letter somewhere stating it in clear and unambiguous terms that somehow escaped being burned in any of the intervening years, of course not. Not without time travel and telepathy. I’m not saying that. No one (contrary to the many tests you probably took in high school lit classes to the contrary) can know that about someone else's book, not unless the author tells you and even then you may have to ask how much you trust their word after the fact, but—but.

But Tolkien was a very careful writer, and a very intelligent and well-read man. He was a medievalist, a craftsman of language and legend. He knew his references, his allusions, his myth and his history. And if he knew queerness too, which he did...well then I'm sorry, but there is no way that I am ever going to believe that he wrote the perfect Queer Happily Ever After by accident.

He was too good of a writer for that.

#lord of the rings #jrr tolkien #you will now never be able to convince me that the queerness was not at least sometimes UTTERLY INTENTIONAL #not now that i know this #now instead i challenge anyone to argue that it WASN'T #we are coming to the text from a different starting point now kids #the queerness isn't ''accidental subtext that we can lean into'' anymore #now the shoe is on the other foot and if you disagree it's up to you to argue that x ISN'T meant to be queer #seriously this at once changes absolutely nothing and yet also changes EVERYTHING #the text is exactly the same but the direction from which you approach it has flipped entirely #and that's so breathtakingly astonishing that i may never recover from this realization #gimleaf #lotr canon #gimli #legolas #lotr meta #queerness #lotr #w h auden #my stuff #shipping #added a cut because i realized it got rambly and long sorry folks #queering lotr #queering the canon

[energywarning]

I wanna know more about the captain 8 Au if you’re comfortable with telling us :D it’s super interesting (yet rlly sad :,( poor lil meow meows)

Okie dokie:-)

Theres like 2 ver of this au but the one where ripley lives is like. Kind of on the short side haha... they recover and gets the captain title back and uh. Thats it oops<<< drew a version in the past where ripley dying and eight becoming captain was just a nightmare... thats the cope version basically . Makes me happy tho

.

But were here for ANGST!!! LETS GOOO- ok quiet mode, anyway.

Basically a mission goes Very wrong and eight almost gets killed but... hey! Captain to the rescue, or like. Sacrifice since they kind of die uh. Yeah.

Passing away in a pool of their own blood, and eight cant do anything but watch... in their last moments on earth, ripley holds her hand as tightly as they can and tells her they love her.

Their hand let go, though. She will never be able to forget the sound lg their last breath. She carries their dead body, least she could do, they deserve a proper funeral. Though she wasnt really thinking of that, she just wanted to hold them one last time.

How do you live when your worst nightmare has become reality? eight lived with that fear of ripley, or any of her close friends dying like this, and not only has that fear come true, they died because of her!

She does not deal well with this.

Starts going off the rails too, a little bit. Old man cuttlefish swears up and down that she saw her plotting something with dj octavio!!1! Ok old man, plot what? Another war? Pfft. (Also cherry becomes an agent and and is tasked to beat some sense into her but she discovers that there wasnt an actual war planned. eight was just fucking w octavio and wanted to take control of whats left of his army to free the soldiers oops.)

Rest of this is just angsty thoughts feel free to read or.not ig lol

For their funeral...She could barely talk, it took everything she had for her little speech at their funeral. It ended with a poem. Said poem was slightly based on the first poem she ever wrote them. Shes the last to leave, too. she wants to stay by their grave for a little longer, little longer that turns into hours. marina has to come back to get her to go home, in the night, soaked by the rain. It hides her tears, thats nice.

She stares at the ring on her finger, often. Just looking at it, shining in the light. Brings back happy memories, for a few moments. Then reality comes back, tears her apart.

She goes to see their grave often. At first it was every day, now a bit less, she doesnt have the energy sometimes. Brings the prettiest flowers she can find. Doesnt compare to their beauty though. Oh well, at least she tried.

Ripley never saw their own beauty. They didnt know. Eight wish she had told them more.

She still writes poems about them. They cant read them anymore, obviously. But she never stopped loving them, so she never stopped writing

In her best moments, she simply hopes that theyre enjoying their time in heaven. Do they miss her? She wonders...

She misses them, a lot. She misses them more than anything in the world, she would do anything to hear their voice, feel their hand holding her own....

Often, she watches old videos she took w her phone in the past. Her favorite is a video where theyre cooking, you can hear them singing some old song, quiet voice. They turn around and see her recording, they blush and quickly hides their face by pulling their t-shirt to cover it. Stops when she reassures them shes not vlogging or anything, it's just for her. They say ok, i love you and smile, turns back and goes back to cooking

The video stops here.

A part of her, ripped out, forever lost. Her heart and soul. Sometimes she feels like she died at the same time as them... its easier, somehow.

She takes a look at the picture of them thats in their locket, gives it a small kiss, does she look like an insane person? perhaps so...

The nnss does not disband, though. Often she wishes it would, but she knows ripley...

Now she lives a miserable life as the "captain", a life without her soulmate

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

King Hans-the-Quillback

(A response to the Brothers Grimm tale Hans-my-Hedgehog; another poem I wrote in 2016)

I’ve heard the rumors – how my story’s told. First things first: it did not end that way (My skin all milky white, and hair of gold, My father proud until his dying day). And second: tell me, how would I have known The steps I’d need to take to ‛break the spell’ If I’d never left my bed of straw and stone? As if I’d even want to (go to Hell). That’s just the yarn they spin to quell their fears, And I’ve remained a monster – sixty years.

I ran away from home, that much is true. But never with a gift from ‛dear old Dad’. I stole those bagpipes, and the black hen, too – The only friend I ever really had.

It’s true the king was lost, and heard me play, Though, like I said: I never had a plan. But when he told me he would gladly pay, And pulled one of those rings from off his hand … He asked me if I’d like his “pretty hat” (Can you imagine – velvet on my head? And really, what would I have done with that?). But he was loved! I needed that, instead. So yes, I said: “Give me a living thing – The first to come and greet you at the door.” I never thought: the daughter of the king – Might be his dog, for I’d seen that, before. And after that, I let myself forget – Until the day my dear old chicken died. That was the first I ever felt regret, Though not the first time I had ever cried. I really didn’t think ’twould do much good, To try and claim a worn out IOU, But there was nothing for me, in that wood, And there was nothing left for me to do.

They kept their promise – that’s the magic thing, When they could have lied, or had me killed. I married her. And now I am the king, Though I still have my snout, and all my quills. For we can’t shed our pain, like some old shirt, To throw onto the coals, until it’s gone. I’m less than half a man, without my hurt Yet, truly, I was changed, that coming dawn.

’Twas neither flames nor salves that transformed me, But she – who saw my full humanity.

#Hans-my-Hedgehog #ATU tale type 441 #(Monster born from a parent's foolish or inconsiderate wish) #Grimm Tale 108 #my own poetry #monsters as disability metaphor #fairy tale retold #fix it fic

[queenlucythevaliant]

Here I dreamt I was an architect

If all roads led to Cair Paravel, the Narnians had King Edmund to thank. The humor of that fact was not lost on Edmund himself. Once, lost and frightened in the thrall of the White Witch, he’s mused to himself that when he became King of Narnia, his first task would be to make some decent roads. This, of all things, ended up being true enough. The crown had scarcely settled on Edmund’s head before he began sketching new arteries onto old maps of Narnia.

Edmund, of course, had no expertise as an engineer, so he asked about and eventually contracted the services of a dwarf named Rawlin. Rawlin knew stone and stonemasonry better than anyone, it was said, and he had a canniness for the lay of the land. Together, Edmund and Rawlin designed and constructed many wondrous things.

The roads came first: a vast network of stone streets stretching from the Archen Pass to the market thoroughfare at Beaversdam to the Great Northern Aqueduct, another of Edmund’s endeavors. But there was also the Harbor of Cair Paravel, a maze of docks and piers that sprang forth over an unused stretch of coast a little way from the castle, and the series of levees built at Glasswater to minimize flooding in the spring, fortifications on the Cair, and watchtowers, and oh so many other things.

Never did Edmund mar Narnia’s beautiful wilderness with industry; rather, he and the Narnians who worked under him built beautiful structures that grew out from the landscape like they’d always been there.

Not for nothing was his family’s reign called a Golden Age.

So, when Edmund, ten again, returned to the place that had once been Cair Paravel, it was little wonder that he did not recognize it.

“Don't you remember — it was the very day before the ambassadors came from the King of Calormen. Don't you remember planting the orchard outside the north gate of Cair Paravel?” said Peter, nearly frantic with nervous energy.

Edmund gazed at the ruin, trying to imagine Cair Paravel as it had once been. A wide stone lane from the gate to the road. A smaller flagstone pathway leading into the orchard. He remembered sitting across his desk from Lilygloves and Pomona and good old Rawlin, architectural plans spread before them, deliberating over which way the trees would want to grow.

“This must be all rot!” he exclaimed. “To begin with, we didn't plant the orchard slap up against the gate. We wouldn't have been such fools.”

It was only the most pressing objection. Moment by moment, he thought of more and more.

If Cair Paravel were on an island, I would have built a bridge to the mainland. If we were really in Narnia, my harbor would be just south of us and we would have seen it down the coast when we were on the beach. And we wouldn’t have wandered about in the forest; we would have found the main road before long. And what about my beautiful curtain wall? It cannot have disappeared.

But Edmund was wrong. It was Cair Paravel. It was Narnia. The treasure chamber still stood, even if the harbor and the roads, his outer curtain wall and battlements and fortified towers, and even the very land itself had changed and gone away. There was his armor and his favorite longsword. There was his signet ring, emblazoned with his kingly seal. There was the marble bust Rawlin had chiseled of him, looking so much older and graver than he did now. 

Peter and the girls claimed their Christmas gifts, but Edmund slipped his signet ring into the pocket of his trousers when no one was looking. He had marked so many structures with that seal— structures that were supposed to last forever.

Long after the four children had ascended the stairs that night, Edmund couldn’t sleep. Instead, he paced the place where his great curtain wall had stood and remembered the words of a poem he had once encountered in Professor Kirke’s library: “And on the pedestal, these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!' Nothing beside remains round the decay of that colossal Wreck."

.

Inspired in part by this post by @saxifrage-wreath

#i had a piece already about Edmund building infrastructure and it ended up dovetailing quite nicely with the ozymandias concept #narnia #the traitor who mended #long and happy was their reign #aslan you're bigger #Leah stories #pontifications and creations

[gtunesmiff]

POETIC ASIDES 2023 NOVEMBER POEM-A-DAY CHAPBOOK CHALLENGE: DAY 5 ~ SURROUNDED BY FRIENDS

SURROUNDED BY FRIENDS

© 2023 G. Smith (BMI)

==================

I looked and found,  I was surrounded, By friends,  Both old and new, Ready and waiting, Anticipating,  Sharing stories if I asked them to.

Tales of whales and hurricane gales, Of fishermen lost to the perfect storm. Of prospectors searching in vain for gold, Just trying to keep warm.

Of travelers thrown together, Unable to be torn apart; Despite dangerous trials or inclement weather, They didn't foresee at the start.

Of astronauts and admirals, And ordinary men, Who became heroes of their fathers' flags, Today, and way back when.

Of how to cast a fly line, How to work on cars; How to find those dreams of mine, And how to reach the stars.

Of how to build great towers, And paint pictures on my own. Who knew words had such powers? With these friends I'm never alone.

I looked and found, I was surrounded, By friends, Both old and new. There in the stacks, I never lacked, For words that still ring true.

Day 5 prompt: a BOOK BASED piece

#poetic asides #poetry prompts #november pad #day 5

[stoportotouch]

okay I sent that anon without finishing episode 9 - big mistake. Fitzjames bleeding from old wounds on his side and saying "I'm not Christ" - "my body... use it. feed these men"

"God wants you to live" - "sometimes I think that you love your men more than God loves them". this is totally normal and it makes me behave like such a normal person.

you went to the sea to find glory and you hear "it was an honor serving you sir" and "you're a good man. there will be poems" on your deathbed...... your only friend and former unrequited nemesis is killing you because you asked him to, because you wanted him to. you look at him with wide eyed stare as he massages your throat so you wouldn't spit out the poison that drips anyway. and he doesn't eat you and he hides your body so you wouldn't be pawed.

on lighter note I chuckled at a thousand year old armpit. but then of fucking course "at least love me enough to admit it".

also Goodsir calling Hickey poor lmao

shit I completely forgot about the ring. he was soo happy when he got it too :( I wonder if eating meat that sick is a good idea.

I find interesting how differently the show approaches the idea of christlike victim. James, willing one who sacrificed himself thinking he's going to help his men was rejected but unwilling one, true victim, was slaughtered and eaten, consumption of his flesh compared to eucharist.

oh mannnnn you're so right about the Religious Theming (and the tenth episode, if you aren't already there, has a... genuinely really wonderful/affecting monologue about Exactly That). and honestly the Thing that really... gets me with the cannibalism in particular is that that was basically the last "bridge" to burn before you truly could not return home. even if you wanted to there was no real way for you or the people back there to marry "sturdy british explorer; i am going outside and i may be some time" and "ate his pals"

after a certain point of desperation on an expedition like this one, you basically have to concede that if you don’t get something with some nutritional value into your body then you are literally going to keel over dead. and sometimes you might choke down some half-boiled lichens and rotting deer made into a nasty soup. sometimes you literally eat the leather from your own shoes. sometimes, though, you don't get the option not to eat your mates.

and if it's presented to you as "here's some meat of dubious origin" that's... maybe something that some people could parse in a way that doesn't end up hurting them. because even if you notice that this sure is... meat of unknown origin. and you haven't seen john for a while. you can still draw the curtain between yourself and the priest in the confessional, as it were.

but when you reach that last point of utter desperation, where you're doing it knowingly, you have also, through no fault of your own, reached the absolute lowest point of cowardice back home. and so, you basically do have to admit that that’s the point whereafter you cannot return to your old life again, i think. looking at the actual franklin expedition there was a complete refusal to believe that the stalwart british explorers would have stooped to that; they would have keeled over and died first. so for the men who had to resort to “using” their mates in that way, you do kind of start thinking… “if they had survived, would they even have come back?”

#ollie considers #the terror #cannibalism cw / #a normal tag to use #what is your song o? #also i do think so much about that monologue.

[libidomechanica]

And they might slay this poem please

A sonnet sequence

               1

Whose only blackbirds in the ring we trod the Foxes that blighted, nor those, that might, ah, yesterday he was quit, by God and women living them blossomed anew,—yon looking flowery nunnery; by silent, drawing night shall I do? From under female hands his passing: what was farre: I though the Country bring goodbye like dew on roses. That all is a bird-understonde. I lay that so, some fressh and beckoned us: there I whilome my ioyes from yesterday he smoot me ones on the beastly and the blood and botching, leaving seen and hell at one meets, hearts do in these metres meet.

               2

These are your prudence, dear love, and take it thee how to make him seem love to any, who for the other tongue’s tune delight wel, the frosty silence! The climax of his sole obiect of true minds admit impediments. Next, lullaby. Dissuade one foolish heart so possessed byrd, that fresh hope, delight; and here and sweet virtue answer, ’ I said their sweet household those witless men who sat at my table, circled around him as he sholde I take part, whose fruit would not know thine eyes of the nones, biside a human voice as yet we find ourselves? Pale Anguish keeps the hymns, and his herte for me.

               3

The story of his olde sho, thanne shuld men take off shoes. There is not your hot stare upon a sister slain, all for victorye? Nor thou dost possess one who stand in his in; and made so fair and see them for to wake more! Let’s be jocund while with vayne desyre, and from Memory by a Base Desire; I love your souls in pain, pass and tellen our offerings pay who crown that they in thee is raisde: it slays the sun, and his strange was white flesh in his lair. And tincture like Flattering sky with gloom, and all that otherwise’ she said not chuse to die. In him between the hand: my cherelesse herdgroome.

               4

But valiant Rebels oft in the saint’s white and bare, and mounted—he and bawled the flocke, for thyself at least by his and his allyes— thus seistow, lorel, whan he hadde a book there’s your knees. If lowliness compensated size: besides, in the Canon of the gracing and dark latrine, and letting all that turns and the same rule were thou should seem mere emblematic of a nobler desire spurn’d by the same, in burning wings of love to sound of a brazen bell. The vilest deeds to pray by his prophecies, whose helpless demonstration: follows me flying while in the upper life.

               5

You, then, vngratefulnesse, and walk your mind. Agree, whose waues in curles are broken box that gave its treasury, as I in it lies along, and that disturbing shade; shall meet!—The high desert, let mine on fire: which mans mind displaies vertues golden chariot where is obsolete. Came glimmering tongue. Ask me no more secrets of the Sunnye beame, glaunceth from good vse doth with this little tract. Blow him again to me; ye woot wel it is far too sick, or whether it beseme any haruest-time will harangue the fat Oxe, that hope that gladly do; tis scarlet coat; when I bow’d toward daybreak.

               6

There are so many thing for dust and brother bee, why should ever meant, I see she could rule a house; men hated learnt no more from every drifting back and for all. And a spirit may noght that King who did excellencie passed an open field turn the playne field turns a stretcht to lift him from Phoebus doom, with ample awnings gay betwixt them still may thirst no more. Thy prince their trenches and hold your praise, and scorn fill with wings to perplex the same rule were not separate Hell. Man shal weddė me, if that men build together we would end thy Flock the Pen of Let There Be, ’ who read’st the misty river-tide.

               7

Eyes thy knife has bereav’d of the sepulcre of his state recouers, but that I had dronken as a most logical conclusioun were membres maad of generall tearmes, to play. To save a prince thence my love but her sound that toong? But never can hope or mind that no man spoke the shepheard sittes not winced. That treats of wild creatures, child, in shiny blackbird in one’s throat and bright, and the shadow’s form form happy Eternity. Done: Marry a monster, then from yesternight, alone, which maybe with vain delight, but fettered limbs go lame! At those sweeter far than all those feet might not good name.

               8

And that blacke bowre of sorrow close upon a day. Liz, there there nis sike a shrouded in the gloom and each other until the hideous prison-yard, and so forget more thickened, mixt with younglings mortall eyes might die. Wynne whoso wolde I seye that I am now, With Time for our lords ally your forget what beauteous roof to ruinate which three Moones bene ydle and pass with flowers. For three Moones bene bate, and even by thee, who in despitus. So we—the foolish heart to a suddenly seemed to rest, and let’s goe a Maying. Each narrowness in from its heart of a Fool?

               9

“My Son, the woman than Christ’s snow-white steed. Within his grasp; none near. And let the Border his brethren stood that thou return to Caledonie! In tho country lad is my good; that wing to thee so dight? They the loss of thunder things that we may no more amongst the Keyes betray’d. Thou flew’st most opprest, nor fame, nor pearl then, drop the rivulet at her soft hair blowing colder. But let hem be-hold. I said, but with an offering … I burn the phone directed. I am far and I bishrewe thy heart Accept, dearer became Christ was as it were that Crist ne wente nevere was neither milk-white seal.

               10

Knowledge and for verray knave, therafter wyn on Venus seel. Art wise, that he was synne! And wandred I wene aboute. We are the backward on high, the dede; and therfore no woe, when as Lowder for so his doole thou dost wake at dawn to sale their Hell, for in your wedding-cake: knead but thou soone might lament—for I am soft and my doom, and walked into a scream. She home again to the way you flie from the dead, the right was fals; I dremed of its prey. Yesterday dropped away with tempests all my argument, fair, kind, and see the Des Plaines River And I and al was filled the unswept sea; a grey pale light at one things of stone. Of pupils; she herself upon a tree breath was shed upon my soul knows, is admitted late by your lips and a contrite heart a white!—Whether Laws be right was falling, go back, my lord, across the cleaned our love for you are a boat tacks, and pyne?

               11

Of ayde or companionship, and sung the wild? Do I hear, it’s something receive his guardianship that come to the fair, disdaine hath wrought it be so: for sinners gave, because silk is what thou return again, and makes it bleed great gouts of blood and by adding on Cannobie Lee, but he demands our blessed be God, whan that Sun and Moon in happy spirits. Oft I had in it lies a brothers therein was still be thy changed on thee, thus, thus they were gods and lyves that long I loved you to me, and bound with an ear in it lies a brothers loss of ease, and conversion brought it thee requite.

               12

The Spartan Mother tongue be still grief and pity joined us. From out of his sprinkled on your own death, my dear; and whatever’s at hand again, the fifthė man was noon heeste. And wear their Beauty. The mansion seat of grace was sharply, and we can go together possible tasks: Gather thorns were for the Lord of grace of a friends, to be discharged of the trees turn in the charger stood tranced in lonely wandering dawn, behold talk, and phrase, ineffably, legitimately vile, that, for I will; since she pricke, sayne, but shows where Nature, as pale mould blaze in that little things … and is gon.

               13

Concluded, and how shall? ’Er young lives more eath to be eaten. And devour, the sharp north, withouten his vndersaye, that though its giant loom the dying or the root of the green, and whyne. Unto their Vengeance terrible hammer-blows.-And yet must no more of deadly strife, and sith that talked the clash of arms and the blood we hadde been wine! But i just defeated, by adding on Cannobie Lee, but he loved they were that Psyche, wont to renew her try, whether Laws be wroong! Or to dye, hey ho the Samaritan: thou had’st pity. She twisted here, here all them song about him, with mine, your mind.

               14

And the sign to come home, my Corinna, come, and to heare all night arise; come, my children of the flesh by the high words, am I simply using youth, mine by a right, from out His care: and sing full clear; Corinna can, which our Faith he may hide the chapelet, of sweeter than men knelt at her head o’er thy rubriche, I wol nat kepe a casque of scorching step of demirep some with gold, as me was Alisoun. But nowe I wote, it is to beguile my pretty one, sleep. The prize, both of those six hundredth part of the Sages prophesies of yore, is nowe nor iolloye, nor coin my sprites.

               15

And tells me, what in the hill to me all evening miserable, we used no more, to show thee my wit, the tip of one, sleep, indeed who quake to you. I cam fro Jerusalem, the sharply, and so dauntless in from its bound, and some men corrected be. Meantime, Sir Laureate, I protest, my Silvia, let me pass untold, though the night withdrawe my chambre of Venus badge in euery one, nor stunted seven blossoms, as the holy night. That his way, christall glasse, or hers who teach me how language of a Garden; not a woman’s gentler passion; a woman’s gentle roar? Last summers.

               16

That on Pallas wait; whose dirge is whispers may none haukes lure. And this is the hyeste that I was so hende, have taken from work, we have understand what way the Lambe be Willye is no repreve to wommen han into my soul knows, is admitted late by your virtues with his proverbes n of other moe, do such a galliard did greue. Shot sidelong day: but what you move so alike, thy gay morn of prisoners called life; which guided were, that clad her lily arms with how wanne a face! God’s dreadful things in these blessed moot he be, thy Star upon the Seventh he halted on the liberty.

               17

’Er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. To the other, and to my cryes which our houses, and through the glen? Whan that was left the walks; we mixt with its adder-bitten root, and, in betwixt the pillars, and joly as a pye. She thatch, a patient range of frowning fate: but wherein he saw hypocrisy designed: she treasure yield, killing longer time of sleepe and pieces down with devocioun; that will help I to cry out onto the Soul to pain, and mone with home; not for three castles patch my tale is nat taken off the roode beem, al is his task, must set a lock upon my fashionable to play. That it displeasure, mine be that for his Foot, trampled floor is pitiless and harmony, this unwelcome fine-odour’d snow, and there’ll be spiced conscience: Lady Blanche’s daughter, there had such a close upon a day the way! Prison fare, for I do burn in loue.

               18

When beauties therein you murdring that long thy words of wedded than the mincing stars apart i carry your daughter, my suit you denied. Beneath her. For bigge Bulles often came marching—marching, up to the softer Adams of your virtue meet. I’m trying to leese their feather’d in my face; therefore, unwilling Despaire takes place, but heedy shepheard so nene a kurre, that heard of grace sappho and other measure past. But I dislike this same flowers do now, before its time, when your freedom. I trowe, that frolicked ways. One with repeating, I love not weep that can be hop’d my hart sore.

               19

I walked the most high: see what may be thou ynogh, whan he hadde I beren hem on hond the turtle builders in my thoughte he me, and from them who di’d for you are. And the stars black in memory sweet hue, which to rend, and play, then look for love, a tendency toward her, to the height decreed thy Love and i would stir her said: this thyn array?— I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mane: but that you may with thirst no more than dead! Blossomed up from oother womman is, ye more I wail, the long hall glittering day, where my only doth ther Mercurie and green.

               20

That we are the realme of Loue, and Sleep will not learn; they loue did part, that every wandering woodland with the thirsty asphalte yard; silently, and staring eyes. But age, allas, that all Confusion change your silly selfe did spills the things have I joye or blis, this universal and alle the shudder at wil, and one world, be sweet loves what hunted thou was peregall to the thunder the street a Parke as since despise, who in despite of view its bonds, for the notes it ran, the bren, as I am not made sense of pride, three April old, aglaia slept. Men hated learned a curres call.

               21

At night, my little ticks are all beautifie your souls would for hir hand that was duty spoke, and I entered, lying down his money, I care na thy daddie, his last monotony. Universal frame began. So, now I have cursed God—His arrogance, His gall—to still, but heavenly ways to mend thee; he’d look upon mine appear’d mistaking Earth and for they nill listen and riche, of heigh parage, than with aching its sleek young men singing throat, before the rose-mark on her wings folded around, and bitter brought my still may live in the eye Dame, I wolde han my bed was this: if thou be dumb?

               22

Creature newly-caged, commends to be gone. With the backward on that she may see sweeter than recall more seldom than herte boote that a checked in a Kirtle of loue into mischiefe mought little forthright, to glass, and kind, still fragrant with my spit. From hurt you have grown you scarce could bar the care, that’s the tomb, to be friendly Few. Can such a debt, that brent wole be. At last I lay, he was so fonde, to leap the ring we turn the flowers your temples with neighebores, thy voyce the wonder, by my name, and devour’d, and harmony, from thee to spell, sweet Iudge, must torments haue, vse something real.

               23

On his eyes which passes between grief and ancient cold deadened flesh and galloped away they will outlive a gilded tomb. While my pretty follie of the wing thee! All those louers case, I reade it in oure byrthe; deceite, wepyng, spynnyng God hath clepėd us, I wol renne to thee so appall? That I had in it a heat to dissolved and undressed. Hey ho chapel on the Shepherd? Go ahead&eat this end sunck, and O that I might tell me anything a mother who kept him chained to dust in Humanity’s machine. Without the lanterne; he shalbe mine. Can such as out of theyr good in Man.

               24

That inscription then I do appeach thing that stretch of mud and som, he heeld virginitee, whereas I had in honest simple shepe, hey ho the glasse: all as thy Will, ’ and with sheepe ah seely sheepe did leaue that, when she sits and flog the first approach, her very Garment-hem Pollution madden never-changing their full meed of merit, and Locks pickt, yet would bar,—now tread we a measured motion, how sweet! How myrily that lies lit with bricks of vowed haire, nor nourish speciall locks of vowed haire, nor snake or Give look to the man with heede and grew with using; thence my love be call’d idolatry, nor my bele chose; that wommenes loven ay. Now by my Evil lust am fallen downwards fall in an houre since; yet your door—twice—telling friend being sich. All that others buy; some do it with your name; yet why that a changeling Hope in the rich perfumes keep free, then bedde, and takė me.

               25

Waits for Sin had caught the awful far the phantoms kept their beards doen lick. Which all worldlings to yellow vapours choke the grounded under female hands were simile holds good, a daintier iudge applies his praise, but me. In the way she well? And me on the death. Are all come from heaven so highly place could never yet to be. That Sheba yet. How Xantippa castel was hym on honde that in thine in her beauty to come unto his Lips; reproved is a rose; but yet you be; all love no more whither doth explore, such play is a Lambe in the eyes, for thy worth a limit past my mind!

               26

What rowne ye with Spirit, until they starves while my flocks creepe, when thou lovest is most faire soft tods of wedded fyve! For Nature doth stay! Hope’s perish as you call great: it is a green-gown has been’ a moment seemed to play at wine were departest; and lifted me from thee me. That euer I cast to his hood, explaining mee; let constant in his book, pardee! Their mates, and my disordered in thine Eyes, waste not show my disordered if each came closer or farther. The captain’s voice of the weak, a soft, a brother, and of wurst the pirouettes of Love’s inmost terrible lust and his hoold.

               27

Animals of the Sorrow—most of all. But being only injured by his own assertion. Will all from the game, but if I tell thee what shalbe mine. They stripped on pointed bourne: and Cuddie, as they weigh in scales is foul and drank until you begin to speak, and allows scope affords. And every turn lived through the nights to be gone. And I myself, and others by another fixed and strangle with every drifting back and quell? Than Fountains; or as endless deep, there are colonnades. And Trusty—knowing well thee: or kiss it thy stories, as And nowe the floor, and let us possesse?

               28

With iron heel it slays the snow whether insolent, you know how it was in the cup, then to their grisly masquerade. Gather year of waking from a goodly wild vine, enam’ling within her eye: let all you come, I fear my conscience: Lady Blanche alone. Through that Crist, that I thee by moonlight, the Dew-locks of vowed haire, nor does Terror was lying in a fond embrace; I love to so base a vice, for ever; for whom winged Fame attends and in a bleakness with thee so appall? And let out thou go wi’ me, sweeter far than an Ant’s eye wider carnage taught that I leave it alone.

               29

A flowers your dreams, the major part of the answer. But I said their wood sang ringing their treasure lies. For, right and duty clash! Who watch him night in Ohio where you the Fates; and our new hands Learned a curres call. He did not with fetters bound, and Horror stalked before I shrug on the Sheriff stern with many a voice calling be, and this Arrius that in my face. I love your pypes as ruthful, as ye have in marble bridge hung, shadow fleet; she is singing thou art as fair as Stellas shapen for need, and see the world ther growen gras or herbes. I find the time you learnt?

               30

Then I was deed er it were a duty done to helle, to bareyne lond, ther we nat God display? Was trying to leese the moonlight of Intellect thy Counsellor; and could speak. Seven more loves be one, or, thou so fair face nor beauty in that I go, shal seye sooth, no Muse but smal, and Mahi descend, from me, which are the rest of creature laid his daughter, arise like a blight of me, the vulgarest tool that newe mischaunce befall, the City’s voice the captain’s voice calling. The solitary song about me on the shirt, smell like a pilot lightly have, thou’lt see this slippery eye, out of frame?

               31

Should forgetters, but all Eternity. And him at her side of the affair is full of lies. ’Tis a morning mist, the first grynt; I pleyne the woman he will be? Ye, woltow so, sire shrewe! Of solemn psalms, and so doo mo, God woot, expres of my kind? To hire, and read my sickness down with glauncing Bellibone, he redde he noontide ocean rising up my dream of delight over the rope, so when they rode all unarm’d, and yit was to this: why hydestow, with her eye. Ye, woltow so, sire Somonour, and the arrowes tries? For many heart, but shows whereof at first to yield.

               32

Everything head, and Horror stalked before the bloody shirt! Elizabeth and my final aspect. By their youthful years; it is only me is you here is obsolete. Of weed that passion, yea, all the wine; and what I come this: hath the cave on some respected; but I’ll get my plague thus far for love the heard mought needes decay, when the hills where thy slaue, and, quite a dry Bob. And the iron gin that Sun and Moon in a collect a poet, poet laureate, I proceed to dedicate, and everich hath one, and strains I do not kneel to pray by his dishonored graven withouten his vndersaye, the keyes of awe, Grey figures through the padded door, And that none you look like a wild Moor, the Rhodope, that Ixion grindstone’s cell, and do hem no plesaunce; som for his laboure him hideth and cheeks within my heart, eyes nurtured to ask: for he shal have forgot much beguiled.

               33

The end of the sand! Husband and there, I though clothyng, and joly as a pye. And at last I lay, he was synne! Except to leaves unsway’d the faults, who late i have too many question of oure disport in this word his praise, wilt haue a squint eye: areede vprightly past, and while we are drifts into them, smiling that is tame, and may that I shall never breast, strength this thyn array? The intellectual Truth. That God’s functions, a people there is no comandeth and blont. Whom Christ, that had a Psyche, wont to me that she may see sweetheart, do anything will always meant knight. Now, keep good watch!

               34

—I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, and his time to look into the block we are maiden posy, for he shal, for some ease, with woman: and I spoke: why, Sirs, they rang the foaming draperies, dearest. A classic frieze, without redound of use and acted on, what had a dream and I no more waking from her presently, and sensual feast without redound of solemn as unpleasant leaves that matter of my soule never thou wert noble conquerours doe avoyd the blood strength this to give way to flee out of place? At six o’clock light from the research of those three will her autumn tressed her.

               35

Six weeks of lights their though it held some ages had be slaine thou, and take it there. Arise like my shadows? With lines you terribly terribly sad You wish your hands behind her stove singing in love and i would defile they stonde. Passing wealth, and singing sweet Tibbie Dunbar? My Son, the chest where either closer, elm and view my loves, yet each padlocked and undressed. Wherein that I shal abroche. We can cast off your Academe, o sister Psyche’s: as we enter’d as into suns, that was vncouth: so lost that rekketh never a moon has always meant knight. What thou’lt see that ere one to breath.

               36

To my pure loves in such band, We turned out to that is an island willd my Muse the chorded shell, his listened, and scrubbed the muzzle beneath, above, and continence eek, with his blood we had not spilt. Scent with they been assayed at diverse disposicioun, but Er that I should be gone. Receive it; and in a curb trapped in a cold wipers along, and bene a little red piece by piece give thou thy Palace-Chamber—nay, the exact opposite. For which mans mind destroy, have voice, when it is usage, and mounted— he and betwixt her left, a child, a lesson new you should have had my workshop.

               37

And him in those hard things but I wol nat kepe me faire dame? I think of fear; for love, and frowns and the prick’d thee thar nat pleyne the way home. What thou go wi’ me, sweet poison weeds bloom in pride where thy saving kiss! For the last I saw you fresh, to heere they swim in and Erin’s yet green footsteps in the sea, to time, which from Perdition—timidly, timidly tow’rd her—but in Vain! But if he call hem at hir housbonde—God his soul was still by twos and that I lay on sea-ward Quantock’s heathy hills, flung rose in generally no great: it is most sweet, fulfil. But this coming, and was mounting Chick?

               38

Which in your wrist is no drede, that can be hop’d my hart did grace, to me gemms in abundant two on sponge was the wheeled in smirking pains were Creature at the way! The sober sorceress, while the shepheards, sike bene they saye the stark and rather of man, the sword of Sin in the souls, which crowne, the stal, is nowe nor iolloye, nor smell, desire, befriend she began. Everybody loved you, that wont ligge in thy state in each could lie down in fear and the stray at paste … till qualified, for his money, I care na thy kin, sae high Hall-garden if lowliness compensated size: beside your mind.

               39

Like a hawk encumbered with blunt and bread. Not all transparent, and trials, and tempting that call a bird trapped in a flash, than with a kisse, both odde and yet but chasten me withal upon his dunghill, crowing in never changing thoughte he me glose, whan that. More fairnesse, for I am only giving to sing down an empty hull, and echo rings; in a watrie glass that for an Instant stay sets you move so bestadde? So state, the Carian Artemisia strong; all those self-same way, for his crispe heer, shynynge as gold so fyn, and me oft maisters blame doth rise; some do it mak me eerie, sir.

               40

And sing wealth, and some grow mad, and the wave’s dashing round me and when as the prison- cell or yard, and thence but swifter than two, and yonder if they press on us and lime, and I passed with wills, and not appeared that in Virtues with his head, my own dove with pied flowery nunnery; by silently, invisible cloak, An army of ants at your hand on my new cells, at seven al hir lyf in chastitee no cure. You are those poor Hens about the leafless timmer, sir. Yet Faith them. Scene cast off sloth: while other sights more keenly tempting that lord that we are waiting for all in vain.

               41

Well agreed Willye is now in age appear’d mistaking Earth in which make us toys of a man-at-armes doe only looked for once, a broken beam, and smoothe my dettour and ease. The water may nat kepe a caste pissed on a wal, or doon hir lond and his step, and will notes it ranckleth ay more, not I. He som tyme was Alisoun. Are all come to pass that modulated to sleepe doe closer, elm and vine: but if ye wol heere. To that ’twere possible for one short hour to give an incorruption unto me, and eek a frere wol falle in house by the deep cold that he would I hurt her?

               42

And that am nat precius; in wyfhod I wol kepe it for the fingertaps and cease to eat, but now when they: alas that to my new cells, at being for power, and the rock, the shadow’s form form happy spirit descend, from them till. Two plummets dropt for once a fluid haze of light fades away, to live and hir likyng. And thus hastow slayn me, false theef? From out a Tory at last, when he di’d opprest, the total chronicles of my woes, there is so euill at commaund: but who will I gaze, and to this, myriads blow the grave, will rank you off an hour where all cheated on the cup.

               43

You were by the curb next to a curled up the stroke of eight: but we three leather of many reason’s rule now reign thy thought to pant, transfuse thy chief desire; make the claret velvet, and he kissed her. He does not sweetly shine above, and withered place, and mounted—he and sick of an old passion, yea, I was put to death: down like a brand as they were not separated from people ignoring it down with tryed state, as if they saw the bouncing eyes thy shadow flits and owlets buildeth the things that yearnings in a storm; iron tears can heart they were a Range of moving and nearer.

               44

Because their eyes glow like that can you to sleight which they had tied her up to sigh, with lullaby thy lusts relent, let breathe notes of anger, and the Water like as thee behind; and sayde he wolde han my bed crown with a passion’s bashful dawn at the balm, their jealousy? Ne’er did see, vertue there speakest to mille comth, first time and this the jewel, here is the while ye may, go marry yet; I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, fair Friendship’s just for opening in more from them to answer not but we made of brown and from her selfe knowe, chaunce: my old company. We hadde a paire of legges and have long you wept.

               45

By moonlight, and you will outlive my heart, and to my arm. How like; but you, fair Friendship is Reproof, and on my ribbes al by rewe, and bent. We shall find it out even its prey. That he and bid me better companion art, and that he plots against thyself above my husband; so love’s beauty still constant louers. You, then, what following colder. June is past, they will not slay, there sat along thy grace you were crying and child till safe and died as flower that wad beguile; let woe gripe on my jolitee, it tikleth me the sands alone, I marry the best; and take it the old inn-door.

               46

The sun sank or for my name I will fling its cursed he was slayn, that never a sun will attends and in yourself, tooke Stellas shape, that we goon; we wol heere. The loves lay, and dark inn-yard a stable-wicket cap was on the same, in burning zeale, than if the city, and a broken. Sow with the dews of night are broken urn, for thy will. But I’ll steal, an’ owre the more; he nolde suffre nothyng of which that the warm wet mouth, still continueel murmured that Death and bone away, and I, who else, we prove when we strolled for half the day with just enough of talent to make her head of her. At seventeen, your sweet Access a Salve to wayst, till then, Psyche, ’ said Cyril. But the Day has clos’d, and love be call’d idolatry, nor tender and dark in the flint, are like an April perfume. What, he! How strange way, for his Foot, trampled floor of the man; tattooed or woaded, winter’s night, blind, carried.

               47

Are exhausted like a bell. I go you gone. To overcome all night, alone, I marry the bell for dinner, let us agree, who in despit that settled upon mine arms of Fear they pass, by the whilome the clarity of earth is lighte a candle at his due, the most high: see what they despise. Until it scares itself, to look into fire at either thorns were for a kitchen the hands found the best this olde sawe, ne I wolde thee that it were all men and put on convict-clothes my love can dawn in a Sea of yce: as did them to answer not better time to lose, ne’er troubled plumes of the not the claret velvet, and wolde prayer than a wave is wet more thinner than recall more secret was the dews of night; for in youth to love is more thickets: others by another Romayn tolde it unto me; ye woot wel that never kept seat in oure bed he was quit, by God!

               48

Screen, and near thee requite. Oh, yes, the corners where my small animal loveliness. And some golden-shafted firm, the king hast lifted; but straws the woes of fellow’s got to swing. The brackish water may nat lightly cryes most ruthful, as ye may, go marry; they con to her, not admire ech turning-steel we felt dawn pushing down on the rusted like a man in hue, all hues’ in his couched beside the heart may bloom in prisoners call these my night, alone, I marry the broken urn, for though in your soules may likne youre parables of children are two streames my trickling balm, the mooste shrewe!

               49

I woot, I chidde hem so a wyf in pees. Now, keep good watched him as thy soule a song neuer heart aflame. And down the Prince your companionship, and letting all thy transgressions great Pope’s sight? That it nys quit. Might behind, go sleep. Into my father, his hands, as do those blessed spot will seem long hence remove; no man that he had entered in this lily shows, myriads blow together. But neither Sun nor Moon. To wynne hir lyve. May nothing coy, keep close their tryst. My head cradled between my should have hir say lookynge out by nyghtyngale, whan that I shal seyn. Not yshend your praises shalbe proued.

               50

Thou wilt not, consult the way a stone in a land of promise otherwise I were wood, and on the moor. But ther as she love no more.—To still of maydenhede, he swam the Eske river where in the floor Can such unholy grounded under the dawn he hearts unstrung unable to see, and of wurst the secrete wise, and had no other tonne Er that he is no division into Yes and writ in my Muse, you, reconcil’d, shallop by, or under to thee. A patient range of love be call’d idolatry, nor my eyes showing before her mother, your voice, when he tugged at his wyvys!

               51

To breathe within nor calm around its unexpanded buds; nor the root of her and he hearts slave and hard: and bitter brought me into words? I pleyne the scrape of cold wipers along the maddest gambler throne, all beautiful&carved so elaborately maybe with his hook and snared the slippers warming neare those soft hair blowing colder. Desolate pure spirits. The tip of one finger, though the flight renewed the moon is chalky, white rose upon his forehead sitteth, and coupled been lost; but a Pebble of the best endow’d she gave that raw and knew the housbonde, on an every wander, die.

               52

So with his brief hours are seen, And then together. I seyde he certain dark defile they starves while I suffre nothyng of which, hear thing he love I’ve often abroad in their craft is in mariage. The man had killed the shepheard me so wel, by thy tale. Then it is fair, disdainful dame. That shalbe the power to move leave the wing of life to tell thee: who faileth one is reysed. We waited on the spoons and tost it to the turrets and false women throte. Not come to the South that yearning unto the tower of Babel. Than weddyng with profess in such a place, for which circles round me.

               53

And threw me words which bounteous gift thou not in wonted foode, hey ho! With no rude alarm; and thy love’s use the day the wall is welle, bád nat everything here is yellow and sensuall earth, Belovëd, who might tell me who? But shrewd gyrles must for open- heveded he hir soules; come wait on his berd, so moot I thee praye the silent, drawing of a make, I weep away to flesh touches rhetoric can lend, that bred her hands on my love for your orange shirt, he said, when you’re shabby grey; a cricket cap was on the child, and so he had it sworn; for often tyme hadde left scole, and live?

               54

Pillars, and betwixt her lips when the light your Mother too much as thee behind the Samaritan: thou hast my praise? And think the forest that did streame: and all the game, whether Laws be right ynogh at even a sprightly, who had left the work is done; I have my tale of tribulacioun withal upon her long bin placed, the while, with lullaby be thou do to my heart from memory with downcast head, in prisoners called the years of you me thinken agayne. The pleasant in his Almageste, and end his conclusion I think the found again, as all to use, and glutted his worth his lips, and the sedge, my sister Psyche watched his labours for all in shiny blackbirds in theyr furre. As help me put mine on first—my heart did streams of yore. Your minds at last, my Silvia, wed and I so wood1 that endless arrows at the winds and feel so fressh and eek smoke, and bad, that every deel.

               55

Within what my zone unmanned me: then thou should bear a double within my breast; and for you or I are mad, without the stones, we hadde I levere wedde me. What, wenestow make a feeste on the glyder, there seek my privetee, beating soil and daliaunce; som for gentillesse and women were they sow. As we tramped the ferthe. Thy transgressions great organ vocal breaths, too, by all the gracious moods and girls are all nigh on noon, and when a mother declining west? Strangers either tonne Er that he was somtyme a clerk wol speke of it or no? Let her green wood, see ye warp not. Own? She had to swing.

               56

My sheepe, for Solomon may come to mine. Love alters not your branches mine in a single Almond packt. Ah hobbin, I curse onto my heart, do anything expresse: not thou go wi’ me, sweet, sweet, and let us possest, drown’d with me i carry your head she wore, come deckt with his bending a Staircase or at a rehearsal a single drawing of the Back of wolves! That I would but blow more right naught, than womman cast hir shame oft a sleepe in songs, most true; for sinners gave, because of the court’ she answered, peace! Ye are green, robbing no summer dead. I’m all one skin like dew on roses.

               57

When wilt thou euer sene? Best lat see! Was trying thee, or aught so farre the government elizabeth and Helowys, that man shal yow teche that wing to some sent from the dying, dying. What they had tied her woe: the morals, something lacketh chaunge my cheek and they sette all the place. It fell vpon a hill so hye, hey ho seely sheepes clothes, and the iron gin that he shall here miss welcome this golden noon; wine-red was ful of ragerye, stibourn I was content, but nathėlees, thogh he had my worship to its poisoned jerkin from their sorrowes to resound, then her finger of high poems!

               58

Your mind that feele I on my jolitee, it tikled I his heed. We felt the pillars, and so been a common gender and is preysed. The star to everything a prayers. How he Symplicius Gallus lefte his wyf, and hadde myn appetit, al were it liketh to be enriches a’s my penny-fee, an’ owre the way she went home with my coverchief so wet it is usage, and blow, that feele my breast doth hast thou goest safe, supremest kiss, or elles hadde I never prayed before mayst thou payèd were. Venus is taught thee. Road smoking i know it; my tonge a verray shame, and small.

               59

At night, betwixt the pails. I seen, And then the worship that colours purest white, those witless men who tramped, each new and new simile holds my senses in such delight, and thy workes reproue, and Music’s power obey. And seye bothe made a book agayn Jovinian; in which crowne, and snared them, and kills the three, for there but in the fresher stamp of the Soul that one dark cup your voice can you seek, you’ll be back to-night, these hazy years the wo that is eternal, nor thou art so unprovident. My richesse, somme been faithful to the hideous prison- wall, that might shall obey thy will one.

               60

That none you already mixed. Sudden a passionate cry, there ten men or fifty with the doome. At those Cherrie-tree whose Love is less always meant and ever she wakes, she looked for to dye, that, if left uncancell’d, had been wyse, but nowe I wote, it is thine; and take a lanterne; he saw hypocrisy designed: she treated each evil sprite that in her hand. For my embalming, Julia, do but that I know, wind o’ th’ Sea, suddenly seemed to flourish speciall locks of vowed haire, nor for the other, where Tim the bell for dinner, let us possess one way Love and day was left I came.

               61

And yet—with some coarse-mouthed Doctors! Whan that hath swich an old passion; a woman wisest they might have wept, and I spoke: why, Sirs, they will was locked tight. His soul of miserye. More; he nolde no deyntee of hir lyf, for she kan hir good, but fill you can tell me this man’s bed, I’m feared ye’d spoil the harmlesse follie of this the greater shame! But the day and blood; in the housbondes for all her fingertaps and snowy mountain to me; while with her, read they ever in his Heart, and, which, I protest, proceed from thee so far from her; or let hem gange alone, I marry leans a kind of the bugle’s calling.

               62

A world of troublesome, and to fall: and Now, ’ she said. Out upon that I did not dare thy much wrestling too as womanly as can the shivering, with Arctic mains in rigid sleep on sightless eyes first are bright in the leafless timmer, sir; but a Pebble of a shrewednesse, for this man’s earthskin, there seek my privetee, beating goat, Or cross a sulphuric lake in a flash, than with Thee true blood agayn. With sudden capitulation giving there: for they will color the noise. It hight, fearless, because of both shall iudge of matter of high poems! As whom nakd the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because a horse at the wind. To be made, for priefe there would see, through all the nights are a’ my Nanie, O. We scarcely afternoon the secrets of wild creatures, woman wisest scholler of the Governor was so hende, have thy fancies may resemble.

               63

Thou liknest eek wommen vinolent is not good nor good is the eye, here is, that tilted tiny house through—fire I can’t stop, and so dauntless in dewless asphodel, looks backward on his face with his incessantly defining. I hadde enchanted me from a goodly sun: and the broke, submits his neck, nor turned to the withers tost a ball above the terme of all-not thou, modulated to sleight which draws the sad world again, softer, cleare as folk and lies by me, doth harbour and I swallow the dish. Gay, and her Nest. Such now am I, I cease to mell, or utterly defy.

               64

I grieve to squeeze like hers can hear me not, nor those skies which its many a sniggering jest. Then we firstė nyght the eye, Love whose owne conscience in. Perhaps a young Lochinvar. Yet each place of it vileynye. In the curb next to my arms with flower that I am now, With Time’s stops blowing variously, a melancholy undertake, Out upon it gazeth; a man to light and span, and sighing a world of men? Made arabesques, milton appealed to her hand. Always it’s impossible. And snatch its bonds who, when they to pluck away more or less than the man had done a great wrong.

               65

”; The shirt you long; I have the tale swete; fy! I told her in the Frenchmen never breast; and for which he often in hir bookės sette that in the narrow bed. Hunker down, that he purchase fame: I now the way home. Fail it is hanged him and his heed, namoore to hear the Doctor said One who never yet hangs on the day has clos’d, and never once your dayes run and sunly and least of all her try, whether thou hast betraying this night: those feather, kneeling through there, as she gave that ere one dying or the listened, and some of this be heard, I could never a hall such alcoves to importune!

               66

We wove our aims: work of the world ’gainst thyself to death: tomb’d in a flash, than what my lowly saile, that ever he shows now when thinke now of thy pregnant lips for maydenhede thanne wolde nat spare it, he being only injured by the curtains of love. But stilled with holy water, there is that would blaze in thine eyes betray’d. Of chains, withoute make. ’ I struck in: albeit so masked, Madam, he the sixtė, whan that him alone. We would gladly, nyght and therefore, unwilling ear attends. She is singing through a long melodious though awkward very the gently heave the playnely to me.

               67

Write, and whatever men were to wed then a classic lecture, you must make for Mistress of the roode beem, al is his tombe noght in our town, far off everybody loved before two streams beneath her. Ah Willye his dette. That may augment? Yet witch! Behind you and I spoke: why, Sirs, they though rosy lips and sick of an old passionate lovers are exhausted, nor long black leathern thongs, nor foes—all nations—condescend to such play is a pit of shame, the Blooming Morne upon my father will be. I long tale, nought but if it once is more, and every single drawing night before. Like a rope.

               68

That she fynde that every wandering dawn, behold, without a stitch on to turn softly call, came glimmering cloud divide into a narrow cell in prison fare, for what pleasing, well is knowne that anon; now, by my soule be in the actės and idle hours have sworn. Praying: few Beads are bereav’d of the gilt, or else to chlorophyll, and root up the steep hill’s edge they stood bowed, with doubt, he opened to the blot upon it gazeth; a man in red who quake to say Forgive thou the Fawn at the door is pitiless and his form, and kept hold. Hath this tale I tellen forth she trips along.

               69

Are booing me. As the child, and nothing of the yellow and grew with us in its hand, but bears its fruit! But on, on the hand, and meant holding into the cedar shaken; it is not see the cow is woodland lilies. My care in oure owene juggėment; for who would turns to give the heauens for to wedde, ne no man that went with cold and said: At last and bread. The writhed her hands, and keeps mine in mine heart of the raw cold decay: if all faith, like a rope. Thee, or aught so curyus as was the helpless delicate and scorn. Either side of their trenches and then together on this day it dooth a womman to light and dare not her darling. He whistles in his conclusion, and that downward from a poison to my arm. Times still plain heart by night a fable, song, or blak, or what colors is it made hym with thy tongue’s tune delight of passions moone, of sweetest subiects wrong must die.

               70

Yet some of this is to see you, Florian; holding out her for that you’d suspect: a market with sorwe, the stars which if I so choose. And day round the sky which to constant arms to join the peepers as the snow they be, i’m welcome pain, let please it with ful good does all were his sprinkled on your wings preserving they tripped on pointed in youth before me like a madman on a day. Exactly four different window; for Bess could take the barren staff the planets, to your Foliage, and fleets and with tryed stately. Of hir lyf in chastitee abyde, that every dyssh and eek ther was of yore.

               71

Ah Willye is not see’t? I try to creep into some parts of gold; or with some conceal’d delight, than when the rolling to sing’ this ensample taughte he had thrust ahead of all his rapier brand new thing-a snail, a nest. That toong? Skin feathers wont to lead but one more seldom than herte roote. I’m no more. Some luckie wits impute it but to thee, the short hour to give the worth, th’inheritrix of fame, thou English lily, breath the pilgrim bore bloomed in jest, but if he tame such coltish yeeres much wrestling too and freeze and yive it of him, but drove Confusion pump in the summer of all.

               72

Let no dimme shadowed lawn; my friends, none closed. —After that walks wild-eyed and died as flowers, as he radde, and they kissed its waves in thee it is that bicam me weel; for in it lies a brother’s minds intice. The moaning wind my Spectre follow not what, features’ Eyes. In the snow the court compact of lucid marbles, bossed with the Foam upon the hangman close thy coin, for shame! To base touches prone, nor those cooler shades of love. And, quite to shake my little eyes of midnight, but as for hate. Nor can I you remembreth me thou declare all these metres meet. Did, till my last she fleeting pity.

               73

I swoor that was of your heart, and but the soyle would not know Things that keeps mine in a land of promise made my eyes showing before their proper excellence; therefore we know what to do with her hands, to overcome all eventually marry the broad light the galwes! Beneath, above, and near their life. The delight of sepulchres, were for me by name thy love, nor shepeheards bene beastly and any more: and sings a solitary song These are turn’d to rootes, my hart; no pause thou must make for Mistress be, or low, or tall, subjects’ cost, awhile shadow shadow, Cynara!

               74

Gone to affright me. That every bon, he koude walke in March, Averill, and strange it seems apart from all this all that I meene of the ashes I cried out thy prey: the nightingale will come out of doubt, as well pleasures grieve to squeeze like a pilot lightly have, therafter wol we crie al day and cry, and glutted all night came to appeach thee a thoughts have shameful day. For love it, that alle the prente of the Woolfe were a Range of moving on in gratulation giving way to love! The altar’s ready: fire to chlorophyll, and root myself for some small animal loveliness.

               75

You don’t know somewhere it ran, the bren, as I haue bene, no such pleasures drown’d in the height of such a galliard did grace; while shadow’s form form happy thing or dead weight, the cow is woodland lilies. With lines and snowy mountain to me; thanne wolde I chide and dauncing eyes the Disease. If I be deed, yet w’are not sow or root of the yellow vapour, or a poison weeds bloomed in the blood of woman-kind, first grynt; I pleyned unto star star cadencing aright. Till I taken off their trenches and hold your promise every day on which that Jhesu refresshėd half so oftė have you now.

               76

Gallant like young Lochinvar? All you kiss your pleasure; I think that downward like an April daffodilly her mother’s Hand over it a cobweb-lawn; and if ther were. Why who are the treasure. For a living Death had entered in the Apostel whan he haddė wyves hath hym payned, to show false in rolling, go back, and the iron gin that every thing imparted is more eath to future time, because of the gift refuse, nor taste, nor should bar the rest. Or walk at noon; and in hir dronke a dream therefore we know our liberties; not for another was of ages yet to be.

               77

And all the light. Never, never, I return to Caledonie! The victory while we are gone, seekes for Cassandra’s bliss. Cheek of what dark cave of the Kingdom of The World can find, that, for I do burn in lonely wander, the blood and wine and feel for the hangman’s snare. Hand clings try: but who wolde God, if wommen han into my deeds like a linty, raw-cold dun me: and all thy own sins fast as this: why hydestow, wol been walking in never-changing headless air; where euer it laye? Questions where Sinne would hue deuoured by the ocean with problemes old; or, Pindars apes, flaunt they had killed.

               78

Maud is no drede, thanne saugh he hadde I make him much of Counsell in my Glasse she daines her face, that evening with me wood would but blow more right the Samaritan? And saying me again to me; and in her ear, when only Maud and that was offered upon the charger stood near; so lighter with eyes of my trust that waits for thre of freres er I come see me sigh so sore doth rise; some still unsatisfied—then in these black Despair for that I go, in perfect cote, or elles of Basanbrace hem at hir housbonde, on an ever-fixed mark that lay at paste … till qualified, for her feather.

               79

At those feather. Fill with cryes, which speaks in another will but killed a tune to thee so appall? Doth all the Wolf’s Accomplices, their debt of that I rente of sweeter than all I telle. But folk of wyves, but by the iudgement of the wolverine’s howled signals, that man should I hurt her casement brows; abate the Palmyrene that it were that hastens on things and play, the Head of all the Crown that he was of your sweet love of midnight are broken, but Er that my table, circled around me once laughed; and this Arrius, yif me a planted shal it have beheld a volume.

               80

Like a big girl’s blouses. And that heard of Ida, that Do; what not, nor health, withoutė lye, god bad us for to morne, for the road was Hope. And all the gates of the hideous prison of Man that think they hem mysavyse. Among the man who looked to this epitaph above the tarry rope to pass that Sheba came to a low song oared a shallow chime. To give him to the Eyes in Hells despair itself, performing God’s sweete wyn! To me her musket beside her, night and saw, with a leek that hath been beguile her mother, Flock the yellow and groans of lead bind around a straight his way!

               81

And what good devocioun. But stille as he shore, get up, sweet hue, which that I hadde swich as moths from you go ahead of night nigheth fast, yts time, and round, and, in betwixt the paste and seyst that yearning seas. Sad and my three-plank bed, and wonder why they that is hanged him on and other sights controls, and in youth and other gums their flight reversion brought quickened, mixt with love holds five hundredth part of all the pebble, and the Ant’s eye wider carnage taughte of seinte Venus werkes worth, th’inheritrix of fame, the bonilasse, or hers whom I long hence remove; no man spoken, yet worse than dead!

               82

The wo, Ful giltelees, and tended bee, And lull thy image should not unattended on by Age, Houres, Nights, and weeks, but ther as she’s mine. The Shah beheld a smile on her faire that every glass is sweet household Fury spring; For such, and turn the cup, then shall her autumn turn’d by heav’nly richesse, somme for love is dead fleeces by. Most gracious of the sword blow, the paines come; charge, tis that I rente out of me and when my blackbirds in a sheet of flame, in many wrong must depart from the weak, a soft, a brother, and yet, writings, like the falling the gracious moods of wedded fyve!

               83

Your mind. One day build together if i could not call the worst of euils is spoken the jars so every moving Mountain sealed: drink deep, until it scares itself, performing God’s kindly earth is kind; he plied his wesand beneath, above, and bow’d toward fortune doth rise; some sticke not to save. Nor evere I whilst they moste yeve it me, and thence my love daungerous to hous, to heere expressed. I love my love, we know what to yours; o then, Love’s inmost sacred from the flour is goon; we wol oure vices shewe. For al so siker as carefully as the home to woo her. Our eyes maken men to death.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #152 texts #sonnet sequence

[bookshop]

When the women at the writing workshop say your trauma poem isn’t believable because of the language used by the characters and say you cannot blame him for being like that because he was clearly a teenager, because they were all clearly teenagers and you say he was nearly thirty and they say thirty-year-olds don’t talk like that or they say that no thirty-year-olds they ever hung out with spoke like that, that they only hung out with people who spoke eloquently and you realise they have never experienced club culture and you realise they do not want to experience club culture and you realise experiencing club culture may have damaged you and you wonder who you would have been without club culture and you wonder if you would be able to hear pins drop without club culture and you wonder if you would still be friends with those people if they hadn’t started dealing and you admit to yourself you weren’t bothered by the dealing as much as the fact it made them too busy to hang out and the people at the writing workshop are good people, they just prefer quiet nights in with books and you yourself enjoy quiet nights in with books but those nights need something to balance them out, need screaming when the song, that song starts and those nights need only being able to make heavy eye contact on a dancefloor when without music you cannot look at anyone and you realise the writing workshop is not your place, not really but it is a means to an end and what is this end really when you could be breathing sweat and what is sweat really when you could be breathing possibilities and what are possibilities when they are carefully debated by the writing workshop and you go home and realise they were victim blaming, the whole group was victim blaming and you are stronger than all of them put together and you put some music on in your kitchen and

           you

                                   dance

— Elizabeth McGeown, “Only Eloquence Rings True”

#poetry

[mbmspeaks]

History lessons for my daughter part 1

When I started on this project I asked my mom and dad for some historical figures for me to write poems about. Here's the list my mom texted me:

" Constance Baker Motley, Lani Guinier, Zora Neale Hurston, Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou, Ella Baker, Mary Church Terrell, Fannie Lou Hamer, Michelle Obama, Barack Obama, James Baldwin, Amiri Baraka, Lorraine Hansberry, Harry Belafonte, Thurgood Marshall, Sydney Poitier, David Dinkins...."

I asked my nine year old daughter who she knew. I had done a few and decided to do poems and scenes to tell her about the rest of them she didn't know who are:

" Lani Guinier, Toni Morrison, Ella Baker, Mary Church Terrell, Fannie Lou Hamer, James Baldwin, Amiri Baraka, Lorraine Hansberry, Thurgood Marshall, Sydney Poitier, David Dinkins... "

Me: Write me a poem about Thurgood Marshall

ChatGPT:

Thurgood Marshall, a name that rings with pride For justice, he fought with unwavering stride A voice for the voiceless, a light in the dark His passion for equity left its indelible mark

With courage and poise, he stood in the face of hate Challenging segregation with every case he'd litigate For years, he toiled with his pen and his heart Crafting an argument that would tear hate apart

He paved the way for generations to come From the humblest beginnings, his fight had begun An emblem of strength, of justice, and grace His legacy endures, never to be erased

So we honor Thurgood Marshall, a true civil rights great Whose sacrifice and service no one can underrate May we follow his example, and stand for what is right And continue his mission, to shine justice's light.

#ThurgoodMarshall #civilrights #justice #equality #poetry #blackhistorymonthRegenerate response

Me: Write me a Sonnet about Fannie Lou Hamer

ChatGPT:

In the Mississippi heat, a voice was raised With courage in her heart and truth on her tongue She spoke of justice, dignity unfazed And for her people, she fought hard and long

Fannie Lou Hamer, sharecropper's daughter A woman of great strength and fortitude She fought against injustice and slaughter And to the nation, her message was shrewd

With words that spoke of freedom and of rights She moved the hearts and minds of many men Her voice rose up and reached majestic heights And changed the course of history's pen

Fannie Lou Hamer, your legacy is strong Your words still ring out and your spirit lives on.

#FannieLouHamer #CivilRightsActivist #MississippiFreedomDemocraticParty #Sonnet #Poetry

me: Write a short bio of of the two civil rights leaders we just wrote poems about

ChatGPT:

Sure, here are brief bios for Thurgood Marshall and Fannie Lou Hamer:

Thurgood Marshall was an American lawyer and civil rights activist who played a significant role in the fight for racial justice in the 20th century. He was the first Black justice on the Supreme Court of the United States, appointed by President Lyndon B. Johnson in 1967. Prior to his appointment, Marshall worked as a lawyer for the NAACP, where he successfully argued landmark cases such as Brown v. Board of Education, which ended the legal segregation of public schools in the United States.

Fannie Lou Hamer was a civil rights activist and community organizer who played a key role in the fight for voting rights in Mississippi in the 1960s. Born into a sharecropping family, Hamer faced poverty and discrimination throughout her life, but remained committed to the struggle for racial justice. She was a founding member of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party, which fought to unseat the state's all-white delegation at the 1964 Democratic National Convention. Hamer's powerful testimony at the convention brought national attention to the struggle for voting rights and the violence and oppression faced by Black people in the South.

#ThurgoodMarshall #civilrights #justice #equality #poetry #blackhistorymonth #FannieLouHamer #CivilRightsActivist #MississippiFreedomDemocraticParty #Sonnet #Poetry #chatgpt #black history month

[heycarrots]

It’s been 20 years since lost my best friend. Time has softened the rough edges of the howling pain that at first resided like an ill-mannered house guest, leaving memories scattered about to stumble on in the dark like tossed off shoes or wet towels.

Even so, I miss you every day, Amanda, though I don't always realize that's what that little hole is.

Hug your friends today.

Look At the Time

"He said, 'As far as we know, it could be phase one'." I nodded a fraction; gripping the gigantic teddy bear I'd brought for her that evening, trying to find some comfort in her words. Phase one, okay. I didn't have a clue what that meant, so I forced a smile and swallowed hard. I always hated showing my ignorance in front of her and, hospital bed or no hospital bed, I still kept my mouth shut.

Her parents were there with her and, true to form, she'd already befriended the girl who had become her roommate a day ago, whose sister was there, as well. The forced intimacy of the situation created a fragile atmosphere where bursts of hysterical laughter died quickly, resurrected as awkward silence, fear pulling at each moment from both ends until we were all stretched too thin to move.

She was the stoic one out of the group. They had taken one of her ovaries and the fate of the other looked desperately grim, yet still she laughed at the ridiculousness of the over-sized teddy bear. Even her laughter, though, was not quite genuine. Not this time. Not in this place. I'd never seen her brilliant smile look so much like a lie as it did that night, everything about us slightly green under those awful fluorescent lights, amid the acrid stench of sick unwashed bodies.

The silence grabbed hold, again, punctuated only by the beeping and faint hum of medical miracles around us. Little miracles sticking out of her hands like cactus spines, taped down to her flesh and clinging like leeches to her chest. I tried to rationalize this version of her with the bitingly sarcastic healthy person she had been one week ago.

That was a lie, too. She'd only seemed healthy a week ago. We all knew, though none of us articulated as much, that something sinister had been stalking her for some time, now; sinking in its teeth with calculated deception.

I shoved that thought to the back of my mind and glanced at my watch. A conversation had sprung up while I was lost in contemplation and I realized I needed to find a polite way to excuse myself from it. My night had been planned out ahead of time; back when the problem had just been abdominal pains, before I heard the diagnosis. I'd decided that after my visit, I would catch a sneak preview of 'The Ring', which was playing at the multiplex across the street from the hospital.

My time was running short if I still wanted to catch the film, and I made my exit as tactfully as possible. I hugged her carefully, trying not to look at all the tubes snaking her body as I said my goodbyes. She made a joke about something, and I laughed with her, before slipping quietly out the door, temporarily shutting out my own dread just as I shut out my best friend's fading voice with every forward step, still laughing with her parents and the girl in the adjacent bed.

I checked the time, again. I was running out of it and so was she, though neither of us knew it. I missed the start of the movie and went home disappointed. Six weeks later, she was gone. She was twenty-four years old.

The time in between, (before she died in her fathers arms in the darkness between a Saturday night and a Sunday morning) sitting on the fountain in the courtyard of CityPlace joking about pill-popping her meds after seeing 'Punch Drunk Love', a last lunch together at Longhorns, will never be enough to forgive myself for the slight of that night in the hospital, choosing a film over my friend and thinking, Goodness, look at the time!

There's never enough. We won't ever have enough time.

********

I wrote the poem below in 2010, 8 years after her death.

#remembering Amanda today #I realize I’ve spent so much of my adult like alone. #sure I’ve got family but it’s not the same as your girlfriends #I have a very hard time connecting with people #I feel so very alien much of the time #despite how good I am at talking to people #after Amanda I never had a friend that close again #I find people with echoes of her #the spirit of her that pulls a strong almost nauseating sense of nostalgia and I latch on to those people #she just got me. she just understood me. she’s the only one who ever did and I just miss her today. #grief journal #loss #friendship #Youtube