Celestial Affairs

The sun kissed me awake
Leaving electrical imprints on my eyelids.
I let it lap at my skin,
Blushing at its wanton curiosity.

Don't be jealous of the sun, my love,
And its golden attention to me.
The sun was kissing me, my love.
It was not kissed by me.

The moon caressed me asleep,
Tracing over my shivering skin.
I let it lay over my body,
Reveling in its milky softness.

Don't be jealous of the moon, my love,
And its silver attention to me.
The moon was kissing me, my love,
It was not kissed by me.


It had been pointed out to my that my poems were getting rather depressing.  So here's one full of whimsy!

Chattanooga Nights

My legs are light and floaty
Better to lie down
Prostrate on a sheepskin rug
Of scratchy softness
The night is clear but
My eyes are cloudy
Other people swim in the fog

We laugh for no reason
Trying to find ourselves
In alcohol and herbs

I am a lover says one
I like words another declares
I live for art says the third
They turn to me

What am I
A runaway in an old ballroom
Hiding shame and uselessness
In pallid artistry

I am a flapper I say
Oh how the chorus cheers
I slink back into smoke oblivion
No future
Foggy present
Just a flapper with a past



 No punctuation in this one.  It's an experiment.  Did it fail or succeed?  Need more info?

A really long post full of poetry, probably bad.

Excerpt from Say it with Flowers, a play by Gertrude Stein

George Henry, Henry Henry and Elisabeth

Henry.

Subsidiary characters.

Elisabeth and William Long.

Action in a cake shop and the sea shore.

Other interests.

The welcoming of a man and his dog and the

wish that they would come back sooner.

George Henry and Elisabeth Henry and Henry

Henry ruminating.

Elisabeth and William Long.

Waiting.

Who has asked them to be amiable to me.

She said she was waiting.

George Henry and Elisabeth Henry and

Henry Henry.

Who might be asleep if they were not waiting for me.

She.

Elisabeth Henry and Henry Henry and

George Henry.

She might be waiting with me.

Henry Henry absolutely ready to be here with me.

Scenery.

The home where they were waiting for William Long to ask them

To come along and ask them not to be waiting for them.

Will they be asleep while they are waiting.

They will be pleased with everything.

What is everything.

A hyacinth is everything.

Will they be sleeping while they are waiting for everything.

William Long and Elisabeth Long were so silent you might have heard an egg shell breaking.  They were busy all day long with everything.

Well, isn't that a weird mish mush of oddity.  I think so.  We read this and a few other poems that had characters (gasp!) and dialogue (gasp!) in them.  Such innovations!  She charged to write a poem with at least one character and at least one line of dialogue.  I am not kidding you, folks.  One character and one line of dialogue.  What a slave driver this woman is!  She also encouraged us to write in the above style.  This is my response:

Say it with Memes, a parody

Me, myself, and I

And him.

Other characters.

Cats in tubes.

Time: Irrelevant

Place: Improbable

Action is OM NOM NOM

The trolling of a man on a forum and the

Wish that noobs wouldn’t feed the animals.

Me myself and I and

Him talking.

Cats in tubes.

Surfing.

Some places I never go.

He said he was surfing 4chan.

Me, myself and I and

Him.

What does Philosoraptor really mean?

Impossibru.

Me, myself, and I, and

Him.

Success Kid shares stories with Challenge Accepted.

Forever Alone is waiting in the dark.

Scenery.

A multi-universe tumblr world where Ponies live in chaos.

Will they keep to canon or make their own.

Everything is possible.

What is everything.

A double rainbow is everything.

Friendship is Magic and the Ponies know it.

He and I were so quiet, except for the clicking of keys and the expletives pouring from our mouths.  We were busy killing zombies.

An Acrid Sonnet

That sallow sour sow upon your arm
Is green with joy of treasure freshly won.
Your insipid sanguine smile follows
Fawning at the feet of your new love.
I wish you well with your fair trollop, boy.
May you stay firmly grounded in the Earth
Of salt mines and of clammy compromises.
Had you but asked, I would have set you free
To seek her bitter bosom's black embrace.
I don't know much of rules and love and war,
But I have learned thanks to your guiltless guile.
Plain truth is better than a sweetened lie.
            I hope that this is less than what it seems.
            May her cold facts be better than my dreams.


Note:  There is nothing wrong with my current relationship!  We are still happy sunshine joy bubbles!  Don't worry! I'm just experimenting with a different voice. ^_^

Hypothetical illogical argument

In Castle, a tv show that I watch with unabashed glee, defines knowing when your in love as the moment when all the songs make sense.  Romantic and appropriately poetic, but, it made me stop and think for a moment about myself and my own run ins with Love.

I thought back onto my childhood, and I realized that even as a young girl, I knew what the songs meant. As soon as I was able to process abstract concepts, I knew love.  I watched it in movies, heard in it song, read it in books and poems; I even created it within my stuffed animals (each animal/doll/troll had to have a match, no matter the improbability.  And I still see no reason why a blue rhino and a purple elephant falling in love is such a stretch of the imagination.)

So, if we go with Castle's definition on how we know we're in love, then it would stand to reason that I've always been in love, because I have always understood them.

Of course, I could be deluding myself.  I could very well mistake understanding love for the longing of love, but I don't think so.

The romantic in me wants to believe that I've always understood love, because I've always been in love.  With my family, with the world, with my life.  And, perhaps, with my dear sir.

This logic will probably never hold up with argument, but it makes me smile.  That's all I require.

Unauthorized Autobiography

Born in light and bred in laughter
Three sisters, friends for ever after
Two Classic parents who never age
One girl whose life is for the stage

Bred in laughter, raised in love
Such blessings sent from Him above:
A place to stay and food to eat
And helping hands to guide my feet

Raised in love to live for fun
My life has only just begun

(and yes, I'm aware that an autobiography cannot me unauthorized.  It's a joke.  You may laugh now.)

January 3

The third day of the new year was Warwick Castle and Stratford-On-Avon.  Such a wonderful, but tiring day. 

Warwick Castle was neat!  Becca, I think you’ll flip out to know that I believe some of Merlin is filmed there.  Neat, huh?  Anyway, not only was it a medieval castle, but later on the early 20^th century, it was a house for the Duchess of Warwick, otherwise known as Daisy, from “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do.”  Cool, huh? 

Once again, Madame Tussaud’s work was everywhere, both in the mediaeval part of the castle and in the Edwardian part.  It was fun to look at, and at one point, there was this was figure of a porter that scared the pants off of me, ‘cause I thought it was real, but on the whole, it was rather Disney-fied, which isn’t a bad thing.  I just prefer my castles straight, if you know what I mean.  Give me four walls and old stone, my imagination will do the rest. 

We did get to see a really wonderful show on owls, though!  I we got to see Ernie, an Eagle Owl, and Oscar, a Barn Owl.  Ernie was big and powerful, and so amazing to see fly.  Oscar was so pretty, but he was younger than Ernie, so he misbehaved sometimes.  Not to mention the fact that it was rainy and windy, and Oscar was having a lot of trouble keeping upright in the wind. 

After that I went to get tea, ‘cause I knew that we weren’t going to have a change to eat any lunch.  I had my first taste of clotted cream, and it was good!  Tasted a bit like butter, only slightly sweeter.  I liked it a lot!!

After that, it was off to Anne Hathaway’s house and Stratford!  Anne Hathaway’s house was fun, and very very small.  I saw a chair that the family said Shakespeare use to sit in when he came a’courting.  I got to go inside of Holy Trinity Church and see the grave of Shakespeare, but, unfortunately, we didn’t have a lot of time to sit and revel in the memory of him, it was back on the bus to Shakespeare’s Birthplace.  That was great!  I got to walk on the floor where he walked and through the rooms where he grew up!  It was great fun!  But by this time, we were all exhausted, having gotten up at early and been going all day long.  My stalwart friends and I decided to go to a pub, The Dirty Duck to be precise, (though it was first known as the Black Swan) and take a load off.  I finally had fish and chips!  Hand-fried Halbot.  YUM!  It was so GOOD!  DROOL!  I also had some local ale, Abbot’s Ale.  It packed a punch, let me tell you!  We sat there and whiled the hours away until it was time for the Royal Shakespeare Company’s production of Measure for Measure!

What a disappointment.  I’m completely serious.  No fault of the actors, though.  Entirely the director’s fault.  It was a post-apocalyptic setting.  Post-apocalyptic.  Measure for Measure.  WHAT?!?  Awful awful awful.  Then the costuming was ridiculous!  The duke had this stupid brown corset on that looked like something from Elmer Fudd’s closet of shame! Ugh.

Then the whores!  They were all BDSM.  Leather and spikes.  Very racy and pushing the envelope in what is socially acceptable to see onstage.  Unfortunately, they pushed the envelope in the wrong direction, because in the scene where Angelo propositions Isabella was so weak!  There was no tension!  I didn’t see Isabella’s horror, because Angelo didn’t do anything terrible!  He was acting like a douchebag, but he never laid a hand on her, so it seemed like her terrible horrified reaction came out of nowhere.  That was sort of a theme in the play though, because when The Duke proposed to Isabella that too came out of nowhere!!  There was no moment of tenderness, no inkling that they even liked each other!  The only clue we got was the first meeting that the Duke and Isabella had, and when he exited, he made it very clear that he lusted after her, but love?  It never came into play. 

I have much more criticism, but this entry is long enough.  Suffice it to say, my first RSC production was a disappointment.  The delivery of lines and acting was impeccable.  I found no fault in that.  It was the director who mucked it all up. 

So today is January 4, and I’ve finally caught up with all my journals!  It’s taken me awhile, but I’ve done it!!  Huzzah!!