rhia_starsong: (cymru dragon)
I have committed poetry again. It's sort of a relief, because it's the first time in quite a while that I've even had the urge to write, probably over a year.

dark leather stained warm cherry

smoothly embossed knotwork surrounding thin twists and wisps of dragon

slipknot cord uniting the covers tying together disparate words

inside laid out in coloured ink flowing

liquidly from fine tips onto

clean cottony pages held in

with careful red stitches can my thoughts live up to this is it too pretentious for the everyday the only words I can squeeze out any more

it deserves elegant lines to match its own

should record well-turned phrases that look

good on unlined white and subtly proclaim the

creativity and intelligence and skill of the writer


rhia_starsong: (Jack2)
Man, I meant to put this up about two years ago.  Oops?

Final version.

Leaving
I have never been able to leave when it matters--
--not you; not you, and never this place.

I stood dying in place my whole life,
stood behind you for all these years
     (I) stood behind the cracked counter in that
          smoky bar
     catching tips and possessive leers
     (I) stood behind the weathered, grey drying line
          full of your
     undershirts and my dustrags
and then when I sprinted after you,
all the while thinking I was leading in this race of
Cartesian proportions,
I learned that our years contained only me,
and that you
have always stood outside them, outside us.

So now here you are, falling
away from me again:
I falter, stand staring at your finely-
chiselled name,
And I want to ask you for the years
back, but I don't know how.
rhia_starsong: (Jack S1)

Morning View


A cloud of perfect corkscrew spirals

Spill down over creamy white, dark and heavy with lingering moisture but

Lacking the warmth of before.


Each strand twists in on itself, drawing

Itself up proudly into

Tighter spirals as the damp evacuates.


Long coils cling to each other

With desperation not unbecoming

Two drowning lovers.

rhia_starsong: (Jamie)
Ok, guys, this is a little ridiculous; I have a poem that I performed last Saturday at Mood Swings, but it still has no title. Suggestions, please?

ETA: Ok, I've decided I like 'Southern Comfort' as the title.

Southern Comfort )

ETA: I guess some further questions would be: how strong is the imagery? Does it show more than it tells? What would you think about breaking it into more stanzas? Would this make the poem look too cluttered?

And now I need to stop obsessing over this thing. It's just that an unfinished poem nags at me, and when it's missing something as integral as the title, well...
rhia_starsong: (Default)
Grandmother )

Leaving

Feb. 26th, 2007 12:11 pm
rhia_starsong: (Default)
Well, I'm slightly happier with this version of 'Leaving', but not completely. I think it still needs a transitional image/emotion between the second and third stanzas.

Leaving


I have never been able to leave when it 
matters--
   --not you; not you, and never this place.

I stood dying in place my whole life, 
stood behind you for all these years
   I stood behind the scarred counter in that smoky bar
   catching tips and lustful glances
   I stood behind the weathered grey drying line full of your 
   undershirts and my dust rags
and then when I sprinted after you,
all the while thinking I was leading in this race of 
circular logic,
I learned that our years contained only me,
and that you
have always stood outside them, outside us.

So now here you are, falling
away from me again:
I falter, stand staring at your finely-
chiseled name,
And I want to ask you for the years
back, but I don't know how.

Leaving

Feb. 26th, 2007 12:11 pm
rhia_starsong: (Default)
Well, I'm slightly happier with this version of 'Leaving', but not completely. I think it still needs a transitional image/emotion between the second and third stanzas.

Leaving


I have never been able to leave when it 
matters--
   --not you; not you, and never this place.

I stood dying in place my whole life, 
stood behind you for all these years
   I stood behind the scarred counter in that smoky bar
   catching tips and lustful glances
   I stood behind the weathered grey drying line full of your 
   undershirts and my dust rags
and then when I sprinted after you,
all the while thinking I was leading in this race of 
circular logic,
I learned that our years contained only me,
and that you
have always stood outside them, outside us.

So now here you are, falling
away from me again:
I falter, stand staring at your finely-
chiseled name,
And I want to ask you for the years
back, but I don't know how.
rhia_starsong: (Default)
Ok, so I don't think I've actually written anything since Parker's class last spring. However, this one image/phrase squished and rolled around in my head all morning, and several edits later, this is the product. Beta work will be rewarded with either real or virtual chocolate and hugs.

It's short, so no cut.

Leaving

I have never been able to leave when it
matters--
--not you; not you, not this place.

I stood dying in place my whole life,
and I sprinted after you for all these years
thinking I was leading in this race of
circular logic.

Now here you are, falling
away from me again:
I falter, stand staring at your finely-
chiseled name,
And I want to ask you for the years
back, but I don't know how.


I envision this as a performance piece, so it's less of my usual tone and emphasis.
rhia_starsong: (Default)
Ok, so I don't think I've actually written anything since Parker's class last spring. However, this one image/phrase squished and rolled around in my head all morning, and several edits later, this is the product. Beta work will be rewarded with either real or virtual chocolate and hugs.

It's short, so no cut.

Leaving

I have never been able to leave when it
matters--
--not you; not you, not this place.

I stood dying in place my whole life,
and I sprinted after you for all these years
thinking I was leading in this race of
circular logic.

Now here you are, falling
away from me again:
I falter, stand staring at your finely-
chiseled name,
And I want to ask you for the years
back, but I don't know how.


I envision this as a performance piece, so it's less of my usual tone and emphasis.
rhia_starsong: (facepalm)
For my awesome beta, here's another! I've always meant to have these beta'd properly, but never got the chance. Once again, follow, follow, follow the yellow brick link. Miracle of Our Life )

ETA: Oh, man, this is quite literally almost a decade old now; it dates to about 2001, I think? ::hides::

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