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Mocking SkyThe Texas winter mocks
with dust instead of snow
and bare mesquite to testify with thorns
against a shred of weakness.

The Texas winter gusts
fiercely from the south -
grit on lips, in eyes, on tongues that wonder
where the deer drink.

The Texas winter sinks
in rust and blood and peaches
beneath the horizon. Sweetly, sweetly,
she sips the clouds.

The Texas winter clothes herself in cicada song,
and all the stars applaud.
Lest we forget
In Flanders' fields, the poppies blow,
and we who walk among them know
that here men fought, and bravely died
with equal courage, side by side;
the lark has overcome the crow.

We touch the Dead in memory –
embrace them through the century.
The earth enshrines their valiant hearts
in Flanders' fields.

The torch has guttered years ago;
the enemy has been laid low.
And though your names should slowly fade,
your blood a better world has made.
Rest you now where the poppies grow
in Flanders' fields.
Disturbing the PeaceWomen in corsets
     disturb the peace.
Blood is memory« Blood is memory »

Le sang coule, rouge sur l’herbe verte.
La terre assoiffée boit, et boit encore.
Ce n’est pas de l’eau, mais elle s’en moque.

Avec le sang partent les souvenirs,
Les jours heureux, le bonheur lointain.
Le sang est mémoire
Mais que faire quand la mémoire s’en va ?

Partent aussi les regrets, les sourires
Les rires, les plaisanteries et les pleurs.
C’est toute notre vie, qui est là, à l’intérieur.
Mais que faire quand la vie s’en va ?

Partent encore les douleurs
Les trahisons, les cris, les malheurs
La vie est douleur.
Mais que faire quand la douleur s’en va ?

Mon san
Infidelities (A Translation)You were speaking of outdated things,
Of drowsy rose gardens
That spend their nights unsettled by
The echoed suffering of well-dressed musicians;
And of the little chapels where princesses
Linger, praying in silence;
And of the rustic four-post beds
That all the halfwits at the armory still use.
Oh! Your words spoke to my heart—
My heart both bored and hungry at once—and
Have awakened the sleeping:
All the lovers before you.
And they each stand up now,
In front of me in the stagnant evening,
Rising halfway out of the dream
Like a white body rises out of a black river.
Oh! The invisible rivals
That you yourself are calling forth:
These visions are the victors, unsettling
Our paled love like a river-dredging.
Between your breasts—merciful like nuns—
You try in vain to shield my brow.
You know my cruel desires
Would run me toward some distant lover,
And I know it well. Your amethyst eyes
Become full of honeyed blame
And I am saddened to death
To have no love left f
FukushimaDes coulées de boue
Plombées du septentrion
Kamis effondrés

(c)2013 Didizuka-don't use it without permission
Oh, Siren Songdancing, drowning –
oh, that siren song
causing his heart
to become
anchored;

entrapped, ensnared –
oh, that daring woman
causing him to fall for
such deceitful
melodies.
Out To Seabury my body beneath the sand
and let the ocean wash over me.

then,

allow the waves to unearth my body,
and carry me out to sea.

and

with the ocean i will dance,
and at peace i shall always be.
Autumn RainsThe Texas autumn, breached,
pours forth cathartic drops,
an ecstasy of tears
to cleanse her dusty eyes of the agonizing fall.

The brow of Texas boils
in cloudy greys and thunder
amid coyote calls electric
down the city-slicker's spine
dropping low.

The breath of Texas chills -
a saw-blade through the heat -
and screams the cloud stampede
across the hills.

The voice of Texas condescends
to whisper in the huisatch
and whistle in the Spanish daggers
sparring with the mockingbird
to sing before she roars.

The mercy of Texas
is no relief -
this wild trickster goddess burns

then drowns.
Divided Against A Blackened SkyDivided against a blackened sky,
No idea where my loyalties lie;
I've been outcast by the people I knew:
I can't find anyone who will stand true.
I fought beside them for so long
I don't know where I went wrong
Now I'm left here alone
Never have I been so far from home.
Walking by myself in the dark
My soul is tearing apart.
Feeling longing for what I lack
But I know I can never go back
Even as the darkness closes in,
This is where I'm supposed to begin
I cannot live, yet I will not die
For I'm divided against a blackened Sky.
The HeartIf ever you feel alone
And can’t escape the tears
There is something you now own
To drive away your fears

It has been battered
It has even fallen apart
Into pieces it was shattered
But you put back together my heart

For all you have shown
Your love that can repair
I will try to atone
And take you from despair

To show you the trail
All dark and foreboding
No matter how frail
It’s not really eroding

The shadows will tell
It is not forbidden
For I did dwell
Where even souls seem hidden

I’ll guide you along
With a smile
Because with you I belong
This dream is worthwhile

So you are never alone
Not while you hold my heart
Ou
Sonnet 3This smile has not been real for quite some time,
But this shroud of sadness has been lifted.
The breaking of one's heart should be a crime.
The reason behind my smile has shifted.

The pain a person can cause is shocking,
I used to think mine was unbearable.
Others' happiness seemed to be mocking
no previous pain was comparable

Time seemed to be my only remedy
Days, weeks, months, and years have all passed me by.
I met a friend, you, that all do envy.
That day I was healed, the day you said "hi"

I am feeling better, it must be true,
the happiness I have is thanks to you.
The Dragon's HordeTales tell of the wretched beast who greedily hid his horde;
     the wealth of his father's father lain deep in forgotten caves.
Many traveling bards grew weary of unfinished tales
     of who would brave the mountain and the monster who guarded the gate.

He had never slain a dragon nor held a trace of gold,
     but fables were born from truth and poor he should be no more.
The climb had left him bloody and scarred, but the cave was in his midst.
     In his weary eyes could see a golden gleam of treasure assured.

He entered the fazing darkness on tremulous faith alone
     with nothing but his dirty hands and subtly break
LE MEDIEVALLe Médiéval (réponse à Brassens)

J'aurais aimé ceindre l'épée
Porter, fier, écusson et heaume
Vivre de grandes épopées
Avec Louis, Charles et Guillaume.
Aux quatre coins de mon royaume
J'irais, enfourchant un cheval,
Des palais jusqu'aux toits de chaume…
Moi aussi, suis médiéval.

De noirs combats et d'équipées
Contre des géants et des gnomes
Mes journées en seraient drapées
« Mont-joie saint Denis », mon axiome.
Je croirais en Dieu, aux fantômes
Comme Arthur, Gauvain, Perceval,
J'irais, heureux, chanter les psaumes…
Moi aussi, suis médiéval.

Des troubadours les mélopées
De mon castel seraient l'arôme
Et de savoureuses lippé
Old SellswordThe rattling of his bones,
Enclosed in timeworn, calloused skin
Reminded him of past youth,
And his senseless exploits of sin.

Before he held a sword, and
The King’s emblem upon his breast
He was a poorly country boy,
Craving opulence to manifest.

Once held up high, now faceless,
Wandering aimlessly alone
Fighting an aging body,
He greets each movement with a groan.

He has become a sellsword,
Consumed by limitless treasures
Turning on several Kingdoms,
To simply engulf life’s pleasures.

Fleeting Kingdoms, far and wide,
Embracing others is no choice
Instead he passes by them,
Until hearing her velvet voice.

Sword-sh
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Indian SummerThe Texas autumn froths
in shades of taupe and cinnamon
and lemon-scented yucca blooms -
waxen belles amid the spikes,
thickets of Jumano spears.

The Texas autumn ravages
the sunscorched clay with burning winds
that chew the live oaks all to shreds
and turn mesquites to kindling.
Wildfire breath.

The Texas autumn ticks along
in desiccated deer
yearning for a sip of winter
to ease their cracking riverbeds.

The Texas autumn flows
in rivers of molten tar
along the curbs, beneath the cars,
inexorable.

The Texas autumn breathes hard
like a woman in labor
and clings to the sun
with gifts of fiery fiddle strings
and a prayer f
The Curse of the FangirlThere are few things that vampires loathe more than fangirls. It was bad enough when Ann Lentils popularised the genre, simultaneously transforming the respectable bloodsucker into a circus of existential angst and sexual ambiguity, but when that Oscar Meyer person added guilt, glitter, and raging teenage hormones to the mix, the Great Game began to feel the strain of a threat.

The threat did not take the form of a sudden proliferation of well-informed slayers armed with the Eucharist, or the Magen David, or even with pointy things. The threat took the form of a spate of homicides driven, it seems, by the sheer bloody desire to make the twee
English Teeth"I'm not a vampire; I'm English!"
AnswerphoneBeep.

Hey, Len, it's Mara. I won five gallons of pinot grigio at bunco the other night, and I thought maybe you'd like to meet up for grading and booze. I'll read my third period's short stories to you. Anyway, call me back when you get in.

Beep.

Mara again. Just wanted to say, don't forget to pack your knitting stuff. It's a long bus ride.

Beep.

Mister Hugo, it's Bill Leakey, Connie's dad. Connie won't be able to make it to tutoring at all next week. She's got recitals with the string band. We do want to reschedule, though. Give me a call back.

Beep.

Sorry, Len. Last one, I swear. Please please call me before you leave. It's about tha

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On Precipicio

:iconquiestinliteris:

Lover,
When our wings intertwined
and I fell into your music –
(It flowed like a trance and
dampened my skin with droplets, pianissimo) –
I could have lost myself
in your sonata storm
and let my chitinous scales wash away.

Lover,
I knew even then
those strings held you bound
in ways I never could.
:iconquiestinliteris:
Written for :iconlit-visual-alliance:

For the original image, visit by :icondanielpriego:
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:iconmarie-from-the-dust:
~Marie-from-the-dust Feb 8, 2013  Student Writer
Lovely flow~
Reply
:iconquiestinliteris:
=QuiEstInLiteris Feb 9, 2013  Professional Writer
:3 Thank you!
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:iconseventhfairy:
Mood: Love *SeventhFairy Feb 6, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
very lovely and beautiful
Reply
:iconquiestinliteris:
=QuiEstInLiteris Feb 6, 2013  Professional Writer
<3 Thank you.
Reply
:iconthecheshercat:
~TheChesherCat Feb 5, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Ooh, lovely! :clap:
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:iconquiestinliteris:
=QuiEstInLiteris Feb 6, 2013  Professional Writer
^^ Thanks!
Reply
:iconclaireby:
~cLaIrEbY Feb 2, 2013
Gorgeous!
Reply
:iconquiestinliteris:
=QuiEstInLiteris Feb 6, 2013  Professional Writer
Thank you!
Reply
:iconclaireby:
~cLaIrEbY Feb 6, 2013
No probs! Just being honest :3
Reply
:icontommyboywood:
~tommyboywood Feb 2, 2013  Professional Writer
whoa! i really like the message and preview image (have to admit though, had to look up chitinous lol)
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