butterflydreaming: "Cris", in blocks with a blinking cat (Default)

Siren’s Watch

In the roar of the Twelfth Man she hears the sound of the distant, deep ocean

of her sisters, in the crashing waves, singing from the foam

crying, calling: come home, come home

the Siren peeks over the top of her tower; she whispers as rain mists over Elliott Bay,

I have emeralds to watch over.

In the shriek of jet planes descending, she recalls amorous pleas

of sailors as she pulled them into the embrace of to gray death

gasping, gurgling: a breath, a breath

the Siren’s crown is a compass rose; she surveys from Leschi to Harbor Island,

I have a map to treasures.

In her clock tower, high above the streets, the Siren watches scenes

of bicycle couriers dispatched by smartphone, meal desires to fulfill

huffing, heaving: a hill, a hill

the Siren looks over the lights of Magnolia; she sighs as dusk settles,

I have a bejeweled city.

Cris de Borja
butterflydreaming: "Cris", in blocks with a blinking cat (Parsol Girls)
While I usually cite "Rosemary" as my favorite, it see-saws with this one:


April this year, not otherwise
Than April of a year ago,
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
Hepaticas that pleased you so
Are here again, and butterflies.

There rings a hammering all day,
And shingles lie about the doors;
In orchards near and far away
The grey wood-pecker taps and bores;
The men are merry at their chores,
And children earnest at their play.

The larger streams run still and deep,
Noisy and swift the small brooks run
Among the mullein stalks the sheep
Go up the hillside in the sun,
Pensively,--only you are gone,
You that alone I cared to keep.
butterflydreaming: "Cris", in blocks with a blinking cat (Default)
          .Sleep Together.

 This warm presence nearby
     trusts me enough to
 at my side.
 Placid, even breaths
 measure the stretches of our time
 On the crest of slumber, I hear
      his heart,
 a soothing sound, as steady as waves.
 When I, too, sink into the deep
      our dreams will mingle like
      sand and tide,
 the tangled track of our waking days
 Washed blank when spirits
 meet and part
      and bodies rest, touching.

[Written about my cat, but take it as you will.]
butterflydreaming: "Cris", in blocks with a blinking cat (Default)

cornbread haiku
Originally uploaded by duskyjewel.
context )
butterflydreaming: "Cris", in blocks with a blinking cat (Default)
This time, I tackled a problem that's been nagging me for a while: my stationary )

By the way, if you'd like a letter (international or domestic), email me an address to send it. My email address is on my info page.

I found something else in the shuffling, too -- a little stack of decade+ old poems that hadn't been put with the other old ones. They were not especially good, but here are a couple that I'm glad to have found. The first one, "Gingerbread", disturbs me... weird how a mindset can keep in faded ballpoint on cheap notepaper. The second one, I believe, is one that I wrote to the guy I was engaged to, but I'm not sure. Anyway, I wouldn't have given it to him, because even then I was aware that he was a clod.

Gingerbread )

celery in tuna salad (!) )

I've had a whole bunch of new music to listen to while cleaning, because D the Pirate came over yesterday. I'm not supposed to have this Fiona Apple -- no one is -- which is just stupid, because the album is brilliant. Why would her label shelve this?!?
butterflydreaming: "Cris", in blocks with a blinking cat (butterflyeye)
RANDOM ADD-ON TO THIS POST (6/21): Lord help me! Now at least 1 person thinks that I actually support this pairing! Sweet mother of Clow! (And speaking of Clow -- I'm writing some of "My Name..." this morning, and I'm planning to put a teaser up this afternoon (LJ only) so... stay tuned.)

Dueling poems with William Shakespeare ("Let me not to the marriage of true minds...") and Christina Rosetti ("What Would I Give"), and it's a food fic, and dear gods it hurt like hell to write. I barely lasted to the almost 2000 words, and I'm so jumpy (espresso) that I forgot the disclaimer! TouyaxYue Only on ff.net so Konnie can read it. The last stanza of the Rosetti poem applies to me right now:
make me clean )

All in all, I think I did a good job with it. But maybe it's the caffeine talking. I am never writing anyone else's OTP again. In fact, I'm not going to write any more pairings at all. Which means: )


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