What do you do?

What do you do when you are feeling so low
That it all looks like dirt and rocks
That it all looks like water and weeds
That it all feels darker than dark

I feel pain and loss
I think blather and dross
I am nothing and no one
And I never was
And I never will be
Since I never was

What do you do when you are so all alone
That it all looks like nil and nix
That it all looks like zilch and zip
That it all feels darker than dark

I feel pain and loss
I spout blather and dross
I am nothing and no one
And I never was
And I never will be
Since I never was

Who I am

This is who I am
A shell on a beach
A warm summer breeze
A fruit out of reach

This is who I am
A light in the dark
The night after day
The day after night

This is who I am
A trembling leaf
A mighty oak
A stalk of bamboo

This is who I am

Untitled poetic bits = homage to Hallelujah upon Leonard Cohen's death

Darkness falls like gravity
It blankets me in solitude
-------------
Floating gently on clouds made of dreams
I stumble over thoughts and words
And fall ever so softly into your smile
-------------
The beautiful death of a love that never was
Makes my heart ache
-------------
Sometimes I'm sad for no reason at all
Sometimes the reasons are awfully small
But the sadnesses that hurt most of all
Are the ones where I feel alone and small
-------------
A heart can break in two pieces that differ greatly in size.
A heart can be nibbled away at, little by little
-------------
Drifting clouds on smoky sea
-------------
I say hello
You say goodbye
You don't care
that I start to cry
You never thought
About the night
and the mourning

You plead the fifth
I drink a fifth
you manage to talk
on the things that singe
you never look behind
to see if i'm
catching up to you

new haiku for you - and other stuff

My flame burns white hot
it is made to dance wildly
when you pass me by

Just when I think I am whole
You go and show me I am not
That there are large holes
Ripped and torn from me
That look just like you

Sleeping Beauty

Your hair curls against my shoulder
Your breath in short little puffs
Warming my chest as you lay against me
Sleeping pink cheeked like a child
These are my favorite moments
For although we are together
I can worship you from afar

Love clings

I always take pieces of you
with me when we part
They cling to me
like smoke
like cactus needles
I try to leave them behind
but all I accomplish
Is tearing out little pieces of me

Ripped Upholstery - Sensory card from Writer's Toolbox

Your basement
My teens
Your guitar
My schemes
Your couch
My jeans
Your kiss
My dreams

Heroes - Inspired by David Bowie's "Heroes"

Dawn broke across the face of the battlefield. The beauty of the scarlet sky marred by the smudge of smoke rising from a makeshift funeral pyre. Milkweed and ash are carried along on the breeze. The day would be mercilessly hot.

In the center of it all, all the bodies and all the misery, lie two figures with hands intertwined. Clearly from houses on opposing sides of the melee, they chose to end their lives together rather than risk being apart for one more moment.

Together now, they rest in peace and in each others arms forever.

Saga of Anterra - Outine - HELP ME WITH IDEAS

Orphaned female elf is trained in combat and healing arts. She avenges the deaths of her family. Then she becomes the healer of the tribe that adopted her.
_______________________________________________



Anterra is found, orphaned, among her dead family. They were killed by a band of rogue men?

Anterra receives training at the school in Morthar and by Grai-El, herbalist, healer, mentor and elder

Anterra ranks high but gets assigned to Healing Arts at Ilthrae,

Anterra receives sword from Grai-El, a special sword made just for her

Goes to Ilthrae with her traveling party

Once at Ilthrae, begins to combat practice as well as start her healing classes

When they go home to Morthar, Grai-El is older still and Anterra  discovers that she is to take Grai-El's place upon the old elf's leaving for the undying lands

She goes back for more training and, knowing she is to go back to Morthar for good next time, she steals away to hunt down the men? before she leaves Ilthrae for the last time. Fenian follows her.

He fights by her side. She saves him from certain death. Fenian falls for her. She may or may not return the affection.

They return to Morthar. Full grown elves.

Finale: The Song of Anterra

For Casey

I think I want you out of my house
I feel like our time is through
I'm tired of everything you say
And every single thing you do

Loss

Gravity drags me down
like misery it causes
too much pain
too much loss
too much grief
It's more than I can bear
Do you hear?
More than I can bear

Gravity melts me
like the sadness that
controls my muscles
controls my tears
controls my sorrow
It's more than I can bear
Do you hear?
More than I can bear

Anterra - night of the Ilthrae naming feast

The sun dipped below the trees. Fires were lit. Tables were laid with the finest wares that the elves had to offer. The domestics worked throughout the day readying for the celebration. There was a sumptuous feast laid out for the entire tribe. The silver goblets and copper steins caught and reflected the firelight as the sun descended. All was aglow in euphoria.

The younglings proceeded down the forest path and into the widening circle of elves, two by two. Anterra was paired up with Fenian, her rival in the arena, her friend otherwise. A palpable hush fell over the entire tribe as the students assembled.

Ayrdan-El, the leader of the tribe, began. "Tonight we gather here, as one, to rejoice and revel in accomplishment and felicity. Tonight we are all brothers and sisters, as we are in all of life. Speak your loving thoughts to each other and say your farewells. Do not hold on to your melancholy musings. Remember we are, all of us, unceasingly intertwined. You who are Ilthrae bound will begin now to build your next stage of life. You are academy members! Go forth and excel at your crafts and make good use of your time. Here now is Tyrulan, our head scholar, to begin the naming ceremony for the evening."

A respectful round of applause rose from the crowd. Tyrulan, a tall, bookish elf with just a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, stepped up to the rostrum and regarded his students with affection. Time after time, he felt this way on the eve of Ilthrae; that this was his best and strongest class of youngsters to date. He knew it was his closeness to the young elves and the pride with which he had watched them all advance so expertly that he held them in highest esteem upon leaving for the academy. Again and again, he mourned the emptiness of the arena and the lecture hall. And then, a new assemblage of students would arrive at the door of the school, fresh-faced and eager to learn. And the process would begin anew.

And so the naming ceremony began. Each elf's name was called, one by one, and each would stand and be told of his or her assignment at Ilthrae. Fenian was called and, of course, got into the combat arts. Two more, one to learning arts and one to fine arts. Another to combat. And so it went.

Finally, it was Anterra's turn. She smiled slightly. She was sure to get into combat arts. She had bettered everyone in the arena during the tournament. Her name was called. "Anterra, of the house of Grai-El, you shall be specializing in the healing arts. You should know this was a difficult decision. We are aware of your natural skill with your weapons and you will continue to be trained while there, but you will be concentrating on the art of herbs and healing at Ilthrae." Anterra was paralyzed with confusion. How is it that she was not going into combat training? It was all she ever wanted, all she ever trained for. Her eyes began to pool but she could not let herself be seen as anything that overjoyed by the appointment. She turned to Fenian, who looked at her wide-eyed.

"Terra, I don't know what to say! I can't believe you won't be in my classes." Fenian exclaimed in a hushed tone. He put his hand lightly on her shoulder.

She replied, "I don't know, Fenian. I hope I get to talk to Grai-El before I go. I have to find out what all this is about. I thought for sure, I mean, you agree. Right? This doesn't make any sense!" Some of the others' attention was being pulled away from the head scholar as they were becoming involved with the conversation between Anterra and Fenian. Tyrulan shot the group a glance that quieted them down immediately. The scholar finished with the naming. Eighteen students would be sent off to Ilthrae before dawn. Eighteen empty beds would greet the new day at Morthar.

They would go by beast to Ilthrae. Anterra had Po. The loneliness would not be so bad for her as for some of the others who were taking family horses or stock animals with whom they had no spirit connection. All elves were attuned to all animals but, for most, it was more of an understanding of the symbiosis that all things are connected. For those with the gift, such as Anterra, it was a heightened sense of that being and that being was imprinted upon the elf. In Anterra's case, the fact that her spirit beast was a unicorn made the pair all the more rare. Unicorns were not unheard of but they were rarely spotted.

Anterra craned her neck, trying to find Grai-El in the circle surrounding them. Finally she saw the healer, who caught her eye and winked. That made her feel a little less anxious. She was sure that Grai-El could set her mind at ease and tell her what this was all about. As far as she knew, there was no learning pod for the healing arts. She was very confused by the whole matter.

Next, the students would receive their swords. They were presented by the head of each household, Anterra's to be bestowed by Grai-El, her official guardian. One by one, the students took possession of beautiful elvish made blades, varying slightly in style depending on it's owners fighting style. Seventeen blades were distributed. And now it was Anterra's turn. Grai-El stepped forward.

"I, Grai-El, mentor and guardian, do hereby entrust this blade, forged in the fires of our best craftsmen, to my student and 'daughter', Anterra. May she be swift and true with this blade and may she never need to use it." And with that, Anterra stepped forward and allowed Grai-El to fasten the scabbard around her waist. The weight of it felt good.

As Grai-El stepped away from the girl, Anterra unsheathed her sword. It was a thing of beauty. Marbled beauty in the Damascus blade. Black and silver pommel with black leather grip. Slightly shorter than the average blade and slightly thinner, making it lighter and easier for the elf to maneuver. It was for a reason the blade was lighter. Anterra would never have the upper body strength that the male elves would have. The lighter weight was smarter for an elf maiden than the blade of one of her male counterparts. She would be able to retain her quickness and agility with this blade.

She was in awe of her new sword and immediately thought of the day she would be able to put it through the heart of the one responsible for her family's deaths. She smiled cruelly for a mere moment and the firelight glinted in her eyes. Grai-El noticed. She prayed that the elf did not make a move before being fully trained.

Drifting, Floating

Drifting
Floating
All around
The motes glimmer
On the air

Climbing
Weaving
All around
The notes glisten
On your ear

Dancing
Twirling
All around
The joy astounding
In her heart

Leaving
Loving
All around
The sorrow pounding
In your heart

Anterra - last afternoon with Grai-El before the ceremony and celebration - IN PROGRESS

Anterra found her way to the clearing one final afternoon. Her feeling of exhilaration was wearing thin. It was starting to sink in that, on the morrow, she would be traveling with the others. There would be time for no meal, the elves choosing to leave before daybreak would take their refreshment when the sun was above the trees. They would travel briskly, stopping only to water their mounts and refill their water pouches.

Grai-El was out in the clearing, eyes closed and head back, humming up into the trees. Anterra stopped short. She rarely got to witness the elder practicing her wood-speak. Stepping quietly behind a tree, she listened. It was as if there were bells in the trees. Her vision misted and she realized she was beginning to cry. Whether this was in response to the beauty of the sound, or the fact that today was the last time she would see Grai-El for quite some time, she couldn't say. But quietly she wept.

Soon, she became aware of the silence. The healer had concluded her song and the forest was silent. Anterra composed herself with a deep breath and stepped from behind the tree. As she came into the clearing, she realized there was no birdsong, no movement of any kind that she could perceive. Grai-El stood, arms to her sides, and beamed at the young elf. "Anterra," she began. "I have been waiting for this day since you came to us. It is with more melancholy than I expected that I say good-bye to you today. I will not be there to see you off in the morning. You will remember that, in the past, those setting off for Ilthrae seemed to vanish after the feast. Tonight you will be sent off to sleep one last night in your bed. In the morning, you will rise before daybreak and leave for Ilthrae. No-one in the tribe will be there to see you off. This is your first step into adulthood."

Anterra listened with a heavy heart. Her eyes had misted over again and she had a lump in her throat. She could only nod, she had no words. Feeling as if her world was being pulled out from under her again, she could barely manage a whispered response. Grai-El began to chuckle. "My dear girl, you will realize by tomorrow this time that this is the natural order of things. Your adventure begins!" She clapped her hands and then held them out for Anterra to take.

"Why is the forest silent, Grai-El? It's not even this quiet at night!" The girl inquired curiously. Grai-El did not answer. She merely closed her eyes and slightly smiled. Only now did Anterra begin to hear the slow creep of forest beings gathering near. Only now did she hear the low thrum in the trees, a sort of droning. Only now did the birds begin to twitter from the branches around them.

"I have informed the entire hamlet of your departure for Ilthrae. They are mourning you, Anterra. Every being is intertwined here. We shall feel the emptiness just as you will feel the loneliness." She paused. "Rely on each other now. Build a new family with your fellows, enter this stage of your life and know that each day will bring you new experiences and new knowledge. Remember what you have learned and apply it to each new moment." She released Anterra's hands and stepped forward to embrace her. Tears began a slow descent down the child's face as Grai-El's arms encircled the girl. "Be brave and be wise. Be kind and be true."

She released the young elf and smiled, with a hint of melancholy, and, with shining eyes, said, "And now let us spend our final time together reflecting amongst all of your family." And with that, the two elves began to amble, side by side, through the trees and among the creatures of the forest.

Anterra - the morning of the celebration

Day broke beautifully, salmon sky with few clouds. The nocturnal animals settled in to their day-sleep after foraging throughout the night. A light mist rose from the forest and dissipated. Silence. Then the explosion of birdsong that heralds each new day. And with that profusion of twittering and warbling, the elves began to stir.

It was a new day, a day of celebration and good-byes. This was the day the young elves had been working so diligently toward. They would find out before they left Morthar how they ranked after the 3 day tournament that assigned each student to a learning pod at Ilthrae. Some elves would spend their time specializing in the art of combat, others in the learning arts, others in the fine arts. This was how each elf received his or her responsibility within the tribe. They would each accept their own elvish sword at the naming ceremony, along with their assignment.

Anterra awoke, fresh and excited about the day. As she readied, she made a point of telling herself that it didn't matter what learning pod she was assigned to, she would be learning the arts of combat while at Ilthrae. Even if she was not destined for the brigade or cavalry, she would still receive much training. It was as important as what was taught within the halls of the academy.

The most exciting thing about today was that each young elf would be granted his or her elven-crafted swords. They would train daily with the sword they were given, they would take that sword into battle after battle. It was as much a part of them as the animals of those that had spirit beasts. Anterra knew that with a sword and her spirit beast, Po, she would have much more of an advantage when it came time to deal with those that had destroyed her family. She felt mounting confidence, this was her destiny.

All the younglings descended out of the trees, chattering and laughing amongst themselves. It was a nervous, excited mirth. The entire tribe gravitated toward the area they gathered to take their repast. Anterra was going to veer into the copse to see her friend and mentor, Grai-El, but she saw that the healer was walking toward her up the path from the woods.

"Peaceful morning to you, Anterra!" Grai-El was in a heightened state but was careful not to show it. She did not want to overshadow the young elf's big day. Anterra gleaned that the healer was caught up in all the excitement though, she usually waited to be addressed. This attention to detail and ability to recall were some of the characteristics that made Anterra the special elf that she was. Not many held her skill with a blade and no-one else in the tribe had the gift of wood-speak. She didn't realize how set apart she was from her peers. No-one had made mention of it. She received her training in the ring with them all. However, she alone had class time with Grai-El.

"Peaceful morning to you, too, Grai-El!" She couldn't help but have a little skip in her step, so keyed up was she with the anticipation of tonight's ceremony. "I could hardly sleep last night but when I did, it was a dreamless sleep. Why do you think that is?" She looked over to her mentor, and only then noticed the strands of silver woven into her hair. This was one of the only signs that Grai-El was an elder. The elf looked as hale and hearty as any other, but had wisdom in her eyes and a sprinkling of snow in her hair.

"I think you may not have remembered your dreams because you are anticipating tonight's ceremony. It's perfectly normal for the conscious to over-ride the subconscious. You will find that in times of stress, before an important occurrence, your dreams may become suppressed. There is nothing to worry about, young one. All your dreams are still in your head, just waiting for the right opportunity to manifest."

Anterra nodded in acknowledgement. The two continued on in silence until they were swallowed up by the others in the glade. At a series of dining tables arranged around the large clearing used by the elves to take meals, socialize and rejoice, as well as to host travelers and other visitors, they all gathered. Small groups of elves gravitated toward this table or that. Some were animated and excited. Others seemed slightly somber at the idea of having to say goodbye to their loved ones. But tonight all would be merriment and celebration.

Upon filling their bowls with fruits, nuts, freshly baked breads, and honey, they wandered over to the scattered tables. Anterra saw that Fenian was waving her over to join him and some of the others. She looked to Grai-El. The healer smiled and nodded her head. She rarely joined in the mealtimes. It would be pleasant to mingle with the young ones on this, a most joyous of days.

The table rang with laughter and voices shouting over each other. There were silly antics and good-hearted ribbing. All were in fine spirits at this dining table on this fine morning.

Breathe easy

Dancers twirl and whirl
As a singer paints the world
With words both deadly and sweet
And you never can tell
If you're going to hell
And the parting will be bittersweet

So take care my dear friend
This isn't nearly the end
We've got miles until we can rest
As I've said to this day
We'll never go astray
So breathe easy and know that you're blessed

The beginning of the Saga of Anterra - IN PROGRESS

Her parents were dead. She was a child and she was alone. Grai-El, the tribe's elder and healer, took it upon herself to watch over Anterra until she could be assigned a function within the tribe. Or, if she had her way, she would be sent to Ilthrae, the academy for elves who show aptitude for the natural arts and the ways of combat. She couldn't tell with certainty yet, but Grai-El had a strong feeling about this young elf. She exhibited more maturity and skill in many ways than young elves already in training.

First, she placed the youngling in the dormitories with the adolescent students, who were all at least twice her age. She settled in quietly. Every day, the young elves clamored down from the trees and did what they were told. She fit in well and flourished in her new surroundings. But she never forgot why she was there.

Anterra excelled at her history and other classroom learning. But it was in the battle arena that she found her calling. She was agile and quick. She was also fearless. That made her a formidable opponent to both male and female elves. The females learned to fight in case of large scale assault where they may be needed on the battlefield. When it became time to choose, or have chosen, one's function or position within the community, the elves then went off to a more specialized training, apprenticeship, guidance, and the like.

Anterra thrived. She also began to grow tall and strong. She got to be as tall as the boys in her classes, where they were considerable years her senior. She was looked upon with favor and respect by all. Very few knew her history, but everyone could see the fire of determination and passion flash in her eyes.

Grai-El watched Anterra exceed her expectations and surpass the majority of her school mates in both academic and combat skills. Arrangements were made for her to complete her classes. She was now able to spend all her time bettering her combat skills. She was quite adept with the wooden sword, continued to improve her swordsmanship, and was now becoming accomplished with the bow and arrow.

She recently received her bow and arrows with the rest of her peers during the ceremony that marked passage from childhood to young adulthood. Daily practice was now part of the everyday regimen. She was excited to learn a new skill.

It did not go without notice that Anterra was quickly becoming the one to beat in sparring matches and archery practice. She was able to fend off two and three opponents at once with her sword, always fighting intelligently. She could hit a target squarely with her arrow, both stationary and in motion. She was humble in her accomplishments and the other elves felt at ease coming to her for advice. They asked about her footwork and her ability to stay cool in a conflict. They asked her many questions, most the young elf could not answer because she was merely acting upon her intuition when she fought. It was if the whole world slowed down a little. She was able to see her opponent's next move before he or she even thought of it. But she showed them anyway, her peers. She wanted them all to become their best. Her competition was one from within.

Grai-El would have Anterra to her cottage on the forest floor from time to time. There, they walked  the forest and spoke of esoteric ideas and tangible matters. Her depth of empathy was astonishing. Although the elder was eager to accelerate her teachings, she remained pragmatic, knowing that slow progress and the natural unfolding of elf wisdom was more important to Anterra's development than haste could afford.

She was becoming the youngling that Shalheira, the tribe's wise elf maid, had envisioned during one of her full moon trances many sun cycles earlier. Not long after, the discovery of a small survivor among the remains of a viciously murdered family.

Anterra was barely a moppet when they found her. She was in shock but, other than that, unharmed. Grai-El was called to attend her with tinctures and herbs. She wouldn't speak, would not make eye contact with her nor anyone else. Several days in, the healer noticed the young elf swaying in rhythm to the song of the forest. She noticed her observant eye when it came to spotting the creatures of the wood. And she saw how the animals had no fear of her whatsoever, in fact, came right to her as if to greet her. And she greeted them.

Storm rolling in

Roll of thunder
Flash of light
Piercing through
The black of night
Setting branch
in dancing motion
Calling forth the
Angry ocean
Mermaids dive
And fairies light
To keep from harm
This harmful night

A TIRADE ABOUT MY CHILDHOOD - 20 Haikubes words pulled and used!

cover - melodic - around - wicked - charm - she - stick - dynamic - limbs - stay -
grace - livid - desperate - balance - curvy - boy - ground - return - trouble - mouthful

Desperate for acceptance, and perhaps attention
I was livid with the boys, resentful of the girls
Always out of balance, always out of time
I hit the ground running, limbs flying and flailing
Crashing through at Red Rover, competitive and fierce
I never wanted to stay, never wanted to return
Why would I want to return to this wicked place
My heart, though entirely broken, still held to grace
He never considered, she never considered that
Beneath this cover of flesh, whatever you may see
There is a vicious wit that would cut you in half
Should I choose that as your fate
Or a dynamic force that would weave notes of beauty
So melodic it would make you weep
If you'd have let me stick around, you may have seen
Past the troubled and frightened child to understand

It was never thought of back when I was a child
Now there are national campaigns to stop bullying
And laws against parents who beat their children
But back then, I was just biding time until I gave up
And I decided to end it all, one way or the other
That's the inexplicable charm of growing up
You either give up, give in or go crazy
You can't just think it, you have to muster up a mouthful
And either cause trouble by exposing the lies
Or by charming the snakes or by letting it slide

Ode to Jean-Pierre

My precious little boy
I love you to the moon and back
I love to stroke your golden hair
And kiss and cuddle you


And I don't mind when you
Get the fire in your eyes
And set your claws and
Bare your teeth
Dig into my flesh

And I don't mind when you
Wake me up in the
Middle of the night
Because you just
Want to talk to me

Dixit Card #3 - Poppies

                                                         

A lush field of bright red poppies, and in the midst of it all a little clearing. In the middle of that clearing, a white flower.

The poppies stayed away from the white flower from the moment it began to emerge from the bud. It was different and new and unlike them. They moved away from it, giving it wide berth. They mustn't get too close.

'What's wrong with it?' Whispers in the surrounding crowd. "Stay away from it!" They fearfully shout.

One day, MEN came to the meadow with machines. They all wore matching hats. Except one of them. His hat was different. He walked carefully through the meadow, taking care not to disturb the poppies.

When he came upon the white flower, his eyes grew large. "Oh, now here's something you don't see every day!" He took out his camera and captured many images of the white flower. He made notes on an official looking form.

After that, the MEN and their machines went away. Signs went up around the meadow. The poppies didn't know this but that white flower, one of a very rare strain of poppy, saved all of them from death and destruction.

Anterra - A poem...perhaps a ballad or lilting song accompanied by lute or dulcimer

Where she walks she leaves a trail of light
So others may see and find their way
Bare flesh glistening with spider silk
She weaves her path through night and day

Her gown, diaphanous and glittering
Sweeps clean her footsteps behind her
Modest in her beauty and her grace
She sings a song of larkspur and fern

She glances toward the dappled sun
That darts and dwells between the leaves
The burnished highlights from her hair
Gold and amber through heavy air it weaves

A legion of wild things follow close and near
Innately knowing that she will keep them from harm
She coos and speaks their languages softly
The creatures are beguiled by her sensual charm

She genuflects by water, clean and swift
Offering libation to both wolf and fawn
They linger in a glade puddled with sunlight
She sings along with the wildwood song

She moves like her steadfast steed
Sure footed and nimble across the forest floor
Needing naught but what she can forage
Leaving what she can for others who explore

Only when unavoidable or set on her edge
Will she somberly don her battle tunic and vest
Her skills quite keen, her vision clear
She'd not cross swords nor draw arrow unless

No other alternative can be conceived or wrought
Or in some quandary she found herself
She drew her gleaming blade, her bow and arrow
And all beheld Anterra, the warrior-maiden Elf

CHALLENGE - Magic & Fairy Tale Dice - 1st roll

Sword, poison, bow & arrow, explosion, prison, ring, troll, broomstick, invisibility cape

*These are the words that were the first roll of the Magic & Fairy Tale dice. Use what you can, embellish, leave things out. Whatever.

If you can imagine someone else, you can leave yourself behind.

I can't sleep

and if I can't sleep I can't dream
And if I can't dream I can't live
I've got too many monsters left to forgive
______________________________________

Each time I close my eyes I enter another place
It's sometimes day and sometimes dark
I am myself only I am different and unfamiliar
I can scarcely make myself out of the crowd

    A splendid hall, a sumptuous feast
    A revelry for the slaying of the dangerous beast
    A God save the king, a dancing girl
    Who makes us all forget our violent world

Rabble in the pubs, rabble in the streets
With my silver tight against my chest
Rushing from town to town as if my life depended on it
Perhaps it does, perhaps it does

Singing for my supper, running through the rain
Keeping my secrets tight against my chest
I have no idea where tomorrow will take me
I just don't care, I just don't care
  
    A splendid hall, a sumptuous feast
    A revelry for the slaying of the dangerous beast
    A God save the king, a dancing girl
    Who makes us all forget our violent world

Try as I might, I feel I cannot escape
With all my belongings strapped to my back
I dart from darkened corner to the next
I keep on moving, I keep on moving

I hear the dogs, I hear the men
They are tight on my tail, just behind me
I am lucky to escape this time again
I pray my thanks, I pray my thanks

    A splendid hall, a sumptuous feast
    A revelry for the slaying of the dangerous beast
    A God save the king, a dancing girl
    Who makes us all forget our violent world

She feels the lightning strike

trunk - whispers - body - ravenous - heart - shape - touches - realize - salty


Her ravenous ways devour every moment of your existence
She touches her body and whispers your name
She feels the love like fire
Fire from a lightning strike

Her shining face is something to behold, you realize
Her chiseled body, the torso of some Greek heroine
She feels your eyes like fire
Fire from a lightning strike

Her desperate ways beg for your passion and charm
Your silence deafens her alone in the room
She feels the pain like fire
Fire from a lightning strike

Her salty tears wash away any leftover trace of you
There is a heart-shaped hole that shoots straight through her
She feels her freedom like fire
Fire from a lightning strike

Temporary or Eternal

Did you ever think it might be you
Dancing fast or turning blue
Finding jewelry in the sand
Asking for another's hand

Did you ever think it would be you
Watching it crumble all around you
Losing battles and missing friends
Seeing your world come to an end

Did you ever think it could be you
Fighting against your point of view
Pointing out the things you know
Thinking you have nowhere else to go

Did you ever think it should be you
Allowing your dreams to come true
Remembering the things you'll never forget
Forgetting the things you said you'd regret

Words from Candy

recline

-willow

us

-beloved

-mask

-thus

-with

-lark

We met and talked and talked some more
And thus one day we fell deeply in love
Myself with you, and yourself with me
Like the morning lark or the turtle dove

My beloved, your mask is the morning lark
Perched in the willow tree where we would meet
In the morning mist and the morning dew
In the park with the lark calling whistles and tweets

My beloved, my mask is the turtle dove
Both sad and content to be alone
If I should ever lose you, my one love
I'll waste away, my song becoming a moan

Dixit card #2 - Twins

                                               

Abigail and Amelia were sisters as far back as they could remember. And they remembered long ago and they remembered a lot. They shared much, the girls. They shared the same birthday. They shared most of their internal organs as well as their arms and legs. They shared their own language, both verbal and silent. Most twins do, but not to their extent.

The girls grew up at a hospital at the end of a spit of land. And there they continued to live. Only those with incurable maladies lived there. The girls assumed they were there because their mother had died giving birth to them and their father had gone and shot himself in the head, dead. They never considered the fact that they were two people sharing one body. It never occurred to them.

The people that knew the girls were cautious around them. Those who did not know them, but knew of them, were downright suspicious. For one, they were always together. That was inevitable. The main reason the twins gave their friends and neighbors the 'willies' was that the girls never spoke to each other, yet always seemed to be in sync. They were callow girls even though they were in their early adulthood. At least that was the illusion that was presented.

The one thing that Abigail and Amelia were moderately famous for, besides the fact that they were one body, was their singing. It was a difficult task for them. Even though they each had voice-boxes, they shared their lungs, and that made it problematic. But when they sang, it was as if the heavens had opened up to a chorus of angels. Their voices were crystalline and true. And they sounded identical. And they phrased their words identically. But they had to measure their breathing in a particular way in order to get the most out of the effort.

This is how they earned their keep, the Siren Sisters, and paid their room and board at the hospital. They toured sideshows and churches around the region in which they lived. They became somewhat of a celebrity, a curiosity, an oddity. But they brought in the patrons and that is what was important. Their appearances became more and more popular due to word spreading around the land by travelers and pub-goers. "You must see the singing Siren Sisters, if you are able. Don't miss the opportunity!" was repeated throughout the populace. They weren't wildly popular but they were embraced by the rabble, due to their peculiarity.

Soon word spread far across the land, and the Siren Sisters became the stuff of legends and campfire stories. The girls began to experiment with how they could change up the act a little bit. After a while it began to be boring to sing the same songs again and again. So Amelia decided to learn to play the guitar. She learned quickly and was quite adept.

Abigail, slightly chagrined, concentrated instead on more and more complex vocal harmonies. She felt ignored as an individual. She felt jealous of her sister as the spotlight was on her, or so she perceived. She did not share her feelings with Amelia, nor did Amelia pick up on them, so busy was she bettering herself on guitar and then mandolin and then lute to notice.

Only one of them could play an instrument at any given time, and that would be Amelia. So Abigail became a brilliant, but slightly obsessed, vocalist. She could never understand why no one wanted to hear her singing solo. If Amelia was playing, why couldn't Abigail be the only one singing? It didn't make sense to her. She just couldn't comprehend that all that accomplished was to make them like every other singer/guitarist. It made them common and not special at all.

One young man saw the sisters perform as they traveled through his town. His name was Ivan. He was enthralled. He was entranced. He was in love. In love with Amelia, for even though the sisters sang like sirens of the sea (hence their name), his love was for her playing of the guitar and then mandolin and then lute. He began to travel in unison with the sisters. but surreptitiously. He went to every performance. He contributed what he could when the basket was passed. Sometimes he gave what he would have used to purchase a dinner pasty at the local baker.

Soon he began to write to Amelia. He wrote her poetry and letters that forthwith professed his love for her but never did he send them off to her. For he was too bashful and introverted. He felt the need to express himself but could not find himself clear to share his feelings with the person who was unknowingly his muse. He was lovestruck and starry-eyed.

One day, Ivan got brave. On that day he mailed a letter to Amelia. He nearly fainted from the anxiety. Not long after, a postal carrier delivered a crisp envelope to the hospital. It was addressed to Amelia.

On that particular day, Amelia and Abigail were out of sorts and not speaking with each other. How they could, I do not know, but they ignored each other throughout the day. When mail call went out, the girls paid no attention. They never received anything through the post. Never ever. When they returned to their room for the day, they were surprised to see that there was an envelope that had been slipped under the door to their room.

Amelia picked it up and saw her name on it. 'Odd', she thought. Then Abigail snatched it out of her hand. She had a cruel look on her face.

"Oh! Hey, what's this? What's this?" Abigail sneered. "Look who's getting fan mail!"

Amelia was slightly panicked. "Just give it here, Abigail. Stop being so mean! What is wrong with you anyway?" She didn't understand her sister's behavior.

The girls continued to argue while Abigail was holding the letter aloft. Amelia was helpless to get at it. She took control of the girls' legs and off they ran. Out onto the end of the spit, out near the water's edge. Among the rocks and low brush they ran and stumbled. Abigail tried to throw the letter in the water but Amelia was finally able to wrestle her left arm down. The girls fought viciously for a few minutes, each coming up with a scrape and a bruise. But the letter remained intact, merely stepped on repeatedly and wrinkled during the fracas.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Amelia yelled sharply. Abigail abruptly stopped. "You know this is probably nothing. Let's just read it and find out." Abigail agreed with a shake of her head and by handing over the envelope and then helping to open it. They both began to read:

Dear Amelia, you don't know me. My name is Ivan. I feel like I know you, having seen you and your sister perform around the countryside for the past 6 months. I never have done this before but I have to tell you that I've become quite smitten with you. When I see you play your guitar or mandolin or lute, I am amazed at your skill and the grace with which you play. You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I just wanted to tell you that. There is no need to reply. I understand your need for privacy. Until I am able to see you perform again, I remain faithfully yours ~ Ivan

Amelia sighed. Abigail harrumphed.

Dixit card #1 - Clock tower

                                                          


The clock tower is at the center of the town. It is by far the tallest building in this bustling hamlet. Sturdily built of deep, red brick, it's spire points up into the sky and can be seen from anywhere in the surrounding area.

All day and all night, the clock tower keeps the time for all the citizens. It sees everyone that passes by. They all glance at his face, but they never look long enough to see him. He smiles as he ticks and tocks. He waves hello, but the people only see his hands move slowly around his face.

He is at his proudest at night, with all the citizens tucked in securely in their beds, just before midnight. He keeps the community safe under his watchful eyes. He can see up into the trees on the outskirts of the hamlet.

His only companion was the owl that comes to roost at night. It wasn't much of a talker but was good company. The owl was his friend but never stopped questioning him. Always with the questions.

The clock-keeper keeps his lamp burning after dark to help those still out and about find their ways safely home and to bed. Every evening he checks to make sure there is enough oil in the lamp to keep it burning all night.

The moon spills its quicksilver over the landscape. The woodland creatures come out at night. It's safe and quiet then. They can feed and play, having the whole of the forest and meadow to themselves.

My face

Rain across my face
And I have no place to go
My face wet with tears

Wind across my face
And I have nowhere to be
My face polished clean

Day across my face
And I cross a thousand miles
My face looking on

Night across my face
And I sleep under the stars
My face to the heavens

Time across my face
And I have wrinkles and scars
My face is my map

Out and about - written at the coffeeshop

Folks scurry to and fro
Interacting sporadically and
with some suspicion
No one knows my story
They just assume
No one knows her story
They just assume

It's easy to make assumptions
It's hard to pay attention to
someone's life other than one's own

It's kind of sad

A perfect haiku and random lyric bits

The music in you
forever in Harmony
with the words in me
======================
The leaves rain down
Their season is through
There is a nip in the air
And each morning is new
======================

Moved by her voice, I
followed her through the forest
Music trailed behind

The dreamer and the dream
Both at the mercy of each other

The slow dance between birth and death
Can be done alone or with others

we will love
Forever more
and ever more

Grai-El teaches Anterra the importance of meditation in the hydrothermal pool - not finished

Deep in the forest there was a clearing and in that clearing there was a deep, cold pool. From high above, water thundered over a sheer basalt cliff, columnar and odd-looking. The water became froth and mist as it tumbled into the lagoon. Deep beneath the cliffs, underneath the wall of water, lies a labyrinth of caves. In the subterranean keep there was a pool, saturated with healing salts and heated by geothermic means. It was here that Grai-El brought Anterra.

She was becoming more centered, realizing her powers more and more each day. Grai-El was eager to see how she would react to having her senses blocked out. It would leave her with naught but her racing mind to command. The healer was certain she would react strongly, but in what way, she did not know.

The caves were deep and dark. Anterra could not see. She could not smell anything but the warm, slightly sulphurous smell of naturally heated waters. She disrobed and slipped into the warm pool. The air, the same temperature as her skin, caressed her with the very least of breezes. She lay back to relax and was delighted to find that she was buoyant no matter how she moved. She tipped her head back in the water so that her elfin ears were submerged.

So deep were they into the mountain, that no sound could be heard save for a slow drip, echoing off the walls and surface of the water. As Anterra tilted her head back to lie prone in the warm waters, she was taken aback at how loud her own heart sounded in this environment. She listened to it beat. She took deep breaths and heard the air go in and out of her lungs. She did what came naturally to her. She slowed her breathing and controlled the beat of her heart.

As she began to drift in and out of consciousness, Anterra became aware of a musical tone. A single note. It was sweet and piercing, and brought to mind sunlight and raindrops. She felt the tone vibrate throughout her bones. She felt a warm, inner glow begin to pulsate. Po came into her mind and she thought 'love.' Then she thought of Grai-El and she thought 'love.' She thought of her family and she though 'love' but noticed that her pulse quickened and her eyes teared up beneath her closed lids.

As she came out of her reverie, she realized there really was a musical tone resonating within the cavern, bouncing off walls and vibrating her solar plexus. She extracted herself from the pool after a while. She felt refreshed and vibrant and hyper-aware. She could see vaguely in the cavern. Near the center of the room, she made out Grai-El with her back turned toward her. She approached her mentor as she pulled her tunic on over her wet body.

Up into the center of the room came a large solitary amethyst, growing out of the substratum. Out of this massive crystal was carved a large bowl shape. Grai-El was tending to the crystal bowl with a baton made of elvish steel around which she rimmed the bowl's edge as she circled round and round. This was what produced the magical timbre. The crystal was vibrating from the friction of the baton. The sound was both heavenly and earth-bound.

Anterra was mesmerized. She was nearly moved to tears. Grai-El slowed and then stopped. She stood, lighting her torch, and turned to regard the girl.

"How do you feel, Anterra?" The elder asked her young pupil. "Did you have any visions, any epiphanies while in the pool?" Grai-El invited the girl elf to walk alongside her as they made their way slowly out of the cave system.

"Well," she began. "I thought of you and I thought of Po and I had very warm feelings and felt pleasant in the pool. Then I thought of my family and I started to feel like crying. And fighting! Grai-El, I think I must avenge my family's deaths." She continued after a few moments. "I realize this is not a normal thought for me to have, as an elf. I'm concerned because this is something that I've thought about very seriously for many years. Is my hatred for those who did it, who murdered my family, is that destroying my soul? Am I to still go to Ilthrae?" She wrinkled her forehead with worry. "Please tell me I am still to go to Ilthrae!"

"Young one, I believe there is still a place for you at Ilthrae. I would not worry so, if I were you." The old elf smiled as they walked, side by side, toward the wall of light and water ahead of them. She could tell Anterra had the maturity to know right from wrong and the courage to do what was right.

Elves as peacekeepers - unfinished

Elves were known to be fierce fighters and loyal to the death, but deep inside they were a race that craved peace and harmony in the amidst all beings. Because of their advanced state, they understood that there is always war. For reasons unfathomable to elves, the other hominoid species fought between themselves and each other. It made no sense to the elves. It never did and it never would.

Elves show exemplary skill and deep understanding of the arts and earth sciences. This carries through to battle talents. Being deft of skill, the next step of course is to challenge oneself to become laudable. This was the kernel that held the secret behind the Elves' fierce fighting. Each was in constant competition to better him or herself.

Elven song for travelers

All magical creatures that share in this earth
May you travel safely and in no hurry
And never you suffer from lack of mirth
And never you suffer from pain or from worry

Travel well - well rested and well shod
Travel well - well rested and well shod

Sing out o'er the hillsides and down in the dell
As you travel safely and in no hurry
And ever your wayfaring days and nights
And ever your trek and your journey

Travel well - well provised and well prevised
Travel well - well provised and well prevised

Welcome all weary travelers to my doorway
You, who travel safe and in no hurry
And rest well and with contentment
And travel on when you are ready

Travel well - well fed, well received and welcome
Travel well - well fed, well received and welcome

A Vision For Our World - Haikubes, not haiku poetry though.

Subject: A Vision - For Our World
Words: sleeping - cover - charm - her - every - away - trouble - after - fire - whispers - body - spirals

Every body whispers
Every fire swirls
Every heart gets broken
Every person hurls

Through space on this rock
Though no-one can feel it
No trouble can brew that will
Keep you from spirit

She'll charm you with poetry
With music and kisses
She'll wait 'til you're sleeping
Then steal away your wishes

You never will know
You never will see
She breaks up your heart
She'll cause you to bleed

Tears of hurt and anger and pride
Until you are turned inside out
Your soul will sing and shout
But you will be broken and burning

Grai-El teaches Anterra the importance of the hummingbird

Anterra sighed, stretched languidly and opened her eyes to the misty morning of a new day. She felt refreshed and eager to spend time with her friend and teacher, Grai-El. As she stirred and extracted herself from her silk and gossamer bedding, she noticed a tiny hummingbird hovering at her window. It observed her with glossy black eyes set in brilliant plumage. It's iridescent throat, fluttering red then green. It's wings beating nearly faster than Anterra could perceive. The two peaceful beings regarded each other with respect and awe. And then, with a flit of his tail, the hummingbird flashed away.

After washing her face and donning her leggings, boots and tunic, she descended to the forest floor. She knew Grai-El would provide her with fruits and nuts to break her fast. Her mouth watered. She stretched her arms out wide and tilted her head back as she walked a zig-zag through the trees. She hummed and whistled along with the song of the forest. She felt fantastic this morning.

Grai-El indeed had her tiny table set with fruits, nuts and freshly baked elven bread, still steaming from the oven. A pot of hot tea and a pitcher of clear, cold water from the nearby stream rounded out the feast. As Anterra approached the healer's dwelling, she smelled the bread and she smiled. A special treat this morning from her friend.

Grai-El insisted on living on the forest floor. Most of the other living quarters were scattered throughout the branches of the grove, Grai-El chose to live on the ground, take her meals alone, indeed she preferred to prepare her own food rather than join the tribe as they gathered twice daily. No-one seemed to think anything of it. It was just her way. Her privacy was respected.

The creatures of the land seemed to know she was friend, not foe. They gathered or passed by in complete comfort and assurance that she was, above all, like them. A benevolent being.

Anterra reached the threshold of the elder's dwelling as the elf elder opened the door wide. "Peaceful morning to you, Grai-El." She bowed slightly as she entered her home. She answered, "And peaceful morning to you, young Anterra. Morning meal is served. Help yourself. Tea is ready to pour."

And so they sat together and chatted while they took their repast. Anterra told Grai-El of her chance encounter with the hummingbird earlier between bites of apple and bread. Grai-El asked the girl if she'd noticed how the wings of the hummingbird moved as they fought to keep the creature stationary in mid-air. She admitted that the wings beat so quickly that she could scarce see the motion. Grai-El said, "And so we have today's lesson." Then she bit into a blushing apple and threw the rest of it out the open door. Before Anterra could say a word, Grai-El said, "Your beast is outside."

"Peaceful morning to you, Po!" Anterra said aloud to which Po responded with a quiet whicker and the crunching of the apple. He ambled down to the crystal clear water of the stream and drank his fill.

Grai-El and Anterra walked out to the clearing. "So to begin. The hummingbird's wings move in an ellipse turned inside out, a lemniscate, an analemma. It's shape symbolizes eternity, empowerment, and everlasting love. It hints of a sum that is larger than it's parts. The hummingbird alone knows that one must push and pull equally in order to maintain balance."

The completeness as well as the permanence that the infinity symbol represents weaves in and out of many different cultures and beliefs. She knew of this through her studies with her peers. The classes she took in the day arena. Suddenly it made sense. She connected the abstract idea of "eternity" with a realism that she understood. Anterra, eyes closed and breathing lightly, suddenly understood that eternity can be held in one's hand.

Older poetry/prose

You tell me that you love me
when I recite poetry to you
and yet
when I sit on my stool
and you sit on the floor
at my feet
looking up
you ask why I only read to you
from Baudelaire and Cohen
and you can't understand
that their pain is mine
and I am trying to tell you
about my pain.
______________________________________

A place where one could never go
might well be the place I go with you
At times I find myself there alone
but I do not recall how I got there
and I am not aware of the exit.

So I look about until suddently
I've come back to where I am now

and I am feeling confused
because you have gone elsewhere
and I realize I'm back where I began
and I do not recall how I got here
and I am not aware of the exit.
______________________________________

The next time you hear this song
I'll be dead and gone
and on to the next adventure.
The next time you read my poetry
it will be carved in stone
and six feet above me.
And I won't care what you think
of it or me
for I will no longer have
any use for you.
As if I have any use for you now.
______________________________________

I am reading the painful words
of a poet before me and I feel him
beside me, introverted and wet-eyed

Sometimes it's just good to know
that someone else has felt the pain;
that you are not the only
unknowing sadist.

65 songs

Your blistering touch
is sometimes too much
to handle
but it doesn't hold a candle

to your smooth way with words
your smooth turn of a phrase
your magic way with your hands
your beautiful face

And I wonder if you ever think
I wonder if you ever think of me
of the way I play and sing
of the 65 songs I've written
65 songs and they're all about you
Do you ever think of me
or only about you

Lyric - ongoing, random

You go your way and I'll go mine
I hate to tell you but I'm doing fine
You need to gather your dreams
and bind them tight
and lock them away - out of mind, out of sight

Stars fall down - stars fall down
dance your dance - round and round

You're the worst kind of snob
your fear keeps you angry and impotent
no one lives up to your false ideals
and you always belittled my art
my songs - my sounds
because you were jealous and afraid
not because what I did was shit

You were young, handsome & full of potential
but you crashed & burned & were swallowed by your inertia

Rhyming - bad timing
you blew it
you didn't have what it took to be okay
you knew it

Minced words and eggshells
We turned into room-mates
who despised each other
You don't get to have me again
As it stands, you got your second chance
And you blew it

I used to love you
I used to adore you
but you always pushed back
and you did it one too many times
I walk away alone
I walk away intact
but you say you want me back
and you know your time is up

Someone close the shutters
there's a storm blowing in
Sometimes the skies open up

Keep your hands to yourself
Your opinions too
If I want you, I'll tell you
Hold your breath 'til you're blue

I'm not trying to be mean
We're just at an end
I gave all I've got
I don't need another friend

A band from the 80's on the radio
makes me want to jump up and dance real slow

Sometimes you look like you just make a mistake

Body surface quickly shines
embracing journey slowly
spiral shelter

Streetlight shimmer
on wet pavement
Don't let success be your suicide

I fell all the way
I have fallen completely out of love with you
I moved all the way
I have removed you from me and myself from you

Seconds before that final flash
I say all the things I should have said
I let go control and wait for that splash
of smoke and glass

I'm like a landscape looming over the horizon
You keep wanting to get there
You keep trying to get there
But I'll keep pulling away
Soft focus and cunning smile
You deserve it, you know
After all the hell you've caused the others

You're all talk
You're small talk

Each of us
Moment after moment
we need to be reminded
of what we already knew
Morality
what do we mean when we say what we say
wipe your mind if you want to be free
observation and insight
let go of the baggage that keeps you in chains

You have that look on your face
like you think I'm going to kiss you

I'm looking for a good boy with a bad side
Or a bad girl with a good side

Sometimes it takes a little
Sometimes it takes a lot
Sometimes there's something to you
Sometimes there's just not
Sometimes it's the blues
Sometimes it's the reds
Sometimes I'd rather just
keep mine an empty bed

life is a balance of holding on and letting go

More Haiku

Empty window eyes
parallel moonlight dripping
open heart watching

his woman dancing
mouthful of shivering leaves
ritual torture

watching her heart break
peace is no alternate home
if she does not choose

gleeful whispering
moonlight on midnight pathways
adventure awaits

Across the tangle
Glorious pregnant shiver
Sleeping grass tiger

Friendly dilemma
Watching doctor balance dreams
That look like screaming

Ribbing a friend is
one of the funnest things to
do on a slow day

I can't fathom life
It's too precious to shake off
Too painful to stay

Try to get inside
my head and you'll soon see that
There's nowhere to go

Sticks and stones can break
my bones but my spirit will
take care of itself

Faster and faster
I cannot stop the progress
My body's breaking

We talked today and
I have to say I'm pretty
proud of you right now

Random words from Candy - 8/19/16

amber

winter

rose

play

kiss

delight

subtle

until

My love is tender, a newly picked rose
It's subtle perfume unleashed for your nose

My love is the warmth of the winter fire
It will kiss and play, all the while growing higher

My love is the sticky amber of earth
It captures its victim upon its birth

My love is the rope that I loop and tie
It takes great delight in saying goodbye

My love knows nothing and not even that
It will continue until the mountains fall flat

Why doesn't Po have to prove his abilities?

They were sauntering through the dense forest, brushing aside waist-high ferns casually, and blinking in the dappled sun that caught their upturned faces. "Po?" Anterra inquired, "Why is it that I am fighting for position for 3 days, apparently all I've learned has led to this, and yet you, my spirit beast, you have only to bear me aloft during ceremonies? Do beasts not have to prove themselves as we elves do?" They stopped to drink from a clear stream. 'Terra, we beasts do have to prove ourselves, but in different ways. Our gifts are strong but sub rosa. For example, I rely on your actions and then I react appropriately and in the highest order needed to complete the task at hand.' Po put his head down for more crisp, cold water. 'It sounds more complicated than it is. The answer to your question is we do have to prove ourselves and we are only as good as our elf is. So you must remember to always perform to your best ability.'

Elf-maiden warriors

Anterra fights to place high on the Academy roster

Anterra emerged from the crowd. She was unassuming in tan and sienna. Her sash of blue silk setting her apart from her competitor, sashed in green. Her opponent was slightly smaller than her but she knew from class that he was quick and true with his blade. She felt her confidence rising. She could take this boy. She knew she had bettered him while practicing. But he was good. She would not underestimate him.

The elf looked cocky. And yet Anterra could see a tiny glint of fear in his eyes. He was aware of her abilities. They were to fight with proper swords for the first time. She could see that he was wearing new footwear. 'He wants to look good', she thought. 'That is going to work in my favor.' The terrain was a mixture of dirt and grass. The morning dew made the grass slick until midday.

Anterra had attended her studies with these children. They were her friends for the most part, and she was nervous that she might hurt one of them. She knew that she could best most, if not all, of her schoolmates. Again and again at play, she bested them. As they grew, she became even better.

"That is what the practice is all about, Anterra!" Grai-El exclaimed one day. "You must learn to avoid being hit by the weapon of another, not just to hit another with your weapon. This is very important to remember." Grai-El was impressed that Anterra's empathic impulse was so strong. But she had to advance in the tournament if she was to go off to Ilthrae for her next block of studies. It would not serve her well to stay back in the forest with the tribe, no matter how much Grai-El would have it.

So here she was, at one end of the small arena, her challenger at the other. They bowed to each other and both of them recited silently the elven code of mercy. The flag dropped and both elves rushed forward, pulling their blades in the process. Anterra cleared her mind and every moment seemed to grow long. She was able to plant her feet well, swing and leap out of the way, dance out of reach of her opponent. She became aware of the song of the trees. It lulled her into a trance. Her body and her sword knew what to do. Before she knew it, she'd had 3 strikes on him and the match was over. His face was dirty and sweat stained. She was breathing heavily but was not undone by the game.

The boy elf, Fenian, returned to his clique of friends, only slightly visibly upset. After all, all of the elves headed for Ilthrae at this time go through this barrage of exercises that showcased not only their skill, but their maturity.

lyric ideas

Never really knew what I was running from
Never really knew what I was running to
Never really knew what I was running for

You can call it a drone but it's music to my ears - sprinkling softly around my head like jungle mist

I've got a bad disease - i hear them talking through wall
I've never been at ease - and i won't answer your calls
I've always got to please - don't tell me they are not there

You've never taken your place or faced it head on

No matter what i think i have to say - You've written all the best lines

Emotion Poetry

Sadness leans on every corner
Looking into the sun
Squinting out the light
Snuffing out a cigarette
Wishing things were different

When I'm excited
I feel the fire
of a newborn star
deep inside me

Silver strands inside of me
dripping liquid, slow and steady
I close my eyes and tip my head back
The liquid pools and overflows

My heart has wings - it has wings to fly
My heart is torn - it is torn nearly in half
My heart has armor - it keeps you out, keeps me in
My heart finds something to beat for every day

Anterra and Po discover that the trees are allies

In these woods, the trees hold a kind of magic. If one is quiet, a discernable song can be heard through the treetops, carried on the wind and plucked note-by-note by branch tip, leaf tip and evergreen needle.

Those with the gift could read the winds by listening to the song in the trees. Beautiful melody with haunting harmony and the coast was clear. A cacophony of sounds or the absence all together of both bird song and wind song, and trouble was clearly within one's immediate vicinity.

All spirit animals had the sight. It was simply a matter of being conscious of the environment and other creatures in proximity to oneself.

Only the special few elf-folk had the gift. Whenever an elf-child showed proclivity, it was immediately noted and training began for the youngling. No matter what age, the training began. Usually, the student knew not of the teachings and knew not of his/her special talent. To learn pure and true, the child is encouraged by elders of the tribe and those older that have the gift. It becomes part of his or her everyday routine.

Anterra was very young when her perception was discovered. She was taken quickly to the threshold of Grai-El, the tribe's herbalist and earth spiritualist, and subjected to long periods of time, roaming the woods and talking with the elder. They became teacher and student, and soon friends. Grai-El delighted in having such youthful energy to interact with and pass her wisdom and insights on to. Anterra was happy to be taken seriously as a warrior-to-be. She enjoyed learning the gentler arts but relished the study of combat and trickery. Grai-El understood this and made sure her training encompassed all that the young elf needed and desired to reach her goal. The goal that only she and Po were aware of.

When she was young, Grai-El noticed that Anterra easily hummed and harmonized along with the song of the forest, seemingly unaware that she was doing it. That was the very sign she was hoping for. She knew that the girl's bond with the beast, Po, and her gift for wood-speak would take her farther than she had ever hoped for.

Haikus from Haikubes

war
opens
fortune
baby
along
me
grass
tangle
sleep

War opens your eyes
We've been sleeping like babies
Tangled in the grass

Tangled in the grass
We've been sleeping like babies
War opens your eyes

Along the way we
Graze the sky with our blue eyes
And never get old

The wind whips sawgrass
into a slicing frenzy
Blood drops on the blades

Fortune helps the blind
Babies in new fallow grass
Helping those in need

Every day's the same
Every day is different
Every day's the same

The manner in which Anterra receives her sword

By anyone's guess, Anterra was a young elf in her early 100s. She had much to learn and much enthusiasm. But there was more to her than the dream if becoming a warrior. Anterra had the burn of vengeance in her throat. She slept with her sword. She dreamt of cutting down those responsible for the deaths of her family. She barely got to know them, she'd been robbed of that. She meant to even the score. This was unlike elf-folk. But then she was unlike any other.

While she may have hidden this dark desire from her people, there were two beings that knew of her true agenda. Po, her spirit beast and best friend, and Grai-El, the elder and sometimes mystic of these elven folk within the realm of Morthar. The fact that Grai-El had the gift of fore-seeing was something she kept to himself. No matter how peaceful the society, there are always going to be those that want to destroy rather than create. She was able to work more efficiently without the sway of the populace interfering with her actions. Outward appearances put Grai-El as an herbalist and healer within the hamlet.

Once she began her education, Anterra knew that the sword was her weapon of choice. By the powers that be, it felt good in her hands! The weight pulled her into its power and its power pulled her into the dominion that she was sure it claimed. She wondered if the sword would have been gifted her on the day of her first tournament, had they known she meant to do harm to others in retribution. She'd been young and self-centered enough to never question where the sword originated, who paid for it's creation, but she did admire its beautiful and intricate silverwork along the tang and pommel and how the hammered steel curved around to create the perfect hand guard for her size. The blade was of the finest Damascus steel, worked in a way that only elvish craftspeople can. It was also thinner and slightly shorter than a normal student sword. Little did she know this was intentional, as her upper body strength would never develop as strongly her male counterparts'. It was not unfair to allow her to be matched more evenly on the playing field.

She awoke on the morning of her first real tournament as a novitiate. For the next 3 days, students would parry and attack each other in succession, jostling for position within the Academy. Excitedly, she washed her face and pulled her tunic over her leggings. After pulling on her boots and secured her belt, she looked at the wooden sword she'd been using to practice and spar. All the students used wooden weapons prior to leaving for Ilthrae. It was a day of celebration. She would receive her true sword today! Anterra nearly skipped out of her room in excitement.

The novitiates had been encouraged to fight as hard as they could against each other, to not pull short with their slices and thrusts. After all, bruises and fractures are quickly healed with an herbal tincture whereas true knowledge of the power of the sword stays with one forever.

Anterra and her spirit beast, Po

'Po! I need you!' Anterra was rushing up the hillside above the tree line. She was exposed and she knew it. She called again in her mind for her faithful, if not cynical, unicorn. They were one and they could communicate across great distances. 'Po, I'm running out of time!' Her footwear slid in the loose gravel.

'I'm coming, I'm coming. Should be there any moment." There was her answer, and she felt a burst of speed in response to her companion's proximity. Any second and she'd be swept away on the strong back of her friend through the ages.

Anterra received Po upon her induction into the field school as a youngling. Po had bonded with the elf-child upon first meeting much earlier, the gift of Po to Anterra was saved for her pre-education celebration.

Po cleared the crest of the hill within mere footfalls of Anterra's trajectory. Seamlessly, the elf leapt, never even breaking stride, to land squarely on the back of the rare, majestic beast. With one last glance down the scree-sided hill, and her pursuers who now had fallen farther behind, she and the unicorn turned as one and thundered down into the dale and towards the woods below.

"Cutting it a little close this time, Po," Anterra said aloud. "I almost got concerned there for a moment." Then she laughed as Po threw his head up and snorted. 'Terra, you need to have more faith in me. I knew just where to get you. Anyway, it's no fun if you don't get a little scared.'

Anterra was a tall and rangy elf. That worked in her favor. Since she'd gone to school as an orphan, she was able to reinvent herself. She took on the mannerisms and trappings of her male counterparts. She never questioned why she chose to do this. It was a compulsion, just as it was to keep her true self secreted away from all the others. Therefore, her size and her strong jaw and brow kept any one from questioning her choices.

They rode furiously until they made their way into the edge of the woods. It was in their favor that the morning dew had burned off the fallow grass. It would make them harder to track. They moved parallel to the woods edge for a time and then stopped, choosing a vantage point that would put her pursuers' eyes to the mid-morning sun. They were nearly invisible from where they were.

'Anterra, you should have known better than to sneak near that camp. Your luck will run out one day if you don't stop tempting the fates.' Po nuzzled her shoulder. He knew that she was well aware how he worried about her when they were separated. "I'm sorry, Po" said Anterra. "Really I am. I just wanted to hear if they are plotting something." She absent-mindedly pulled her fingers through her unicorn's mane, untangling the flaxen tresses. Po let go a contented sigh.

"I say we go up to the next ridge but stay to the trees. We have to get back to Ilthrae by nightfall." Po looked at Anterra. "Stop it. We're closer than you think we are. We're taking a shortcut." Po chided the elf-girl, 'We are only as close as my top speed can take us. And you know it. But I'm ready when you are. I really don't think the others are coming after you. They just wanted to chase you off.' Po sauntered off, looking for a patch of clover.

The woods, dark and close, were loamy and lush. Plenty of rain fell this time of year. The earth was saturated and the rich smell of life was everywhere. Anterra was practiced at the arts of silence and stealth and Po's hooves moved noiselessly along the carpet of wet needles. They made their way through the grove, stopping only to drink from a swift stream.

They emerged from the final copse of trees moments before the sun dipped below the range and out of sight. 'You're lucky this time,' Po teased. They entered the gates as those on guard duty lined up to secure them for the night. 'Oats and dark beer, Terra. I'm exhausted.' Anterra responded, 'You are getting a full rubdown tonight, my friend. And yes, oats and dark beer for you.'

They continued to silently converse while moving through the streets toward the stables.

Rhythmic exercise

The girl
walks home
alone
at night

She tries
to take
the safer
path

The chill
night air
swirls round
her legs

The road
turns back
upon
itself

No one
else
can tell
her tale

Smoke and Fire - Double Drabble

Pen's face looked strange. She gazed at the glass, confused and slightly put off by what stared back at her. Where there were once faintly dimpled and rosy cheeks, there were now deep hollows. Where once were laughing eyes, quick and sparkling, now were worried and vacant sockets, staring in quiet horror at what she'd become in so short a time.

They'd been told that first levels had no perceptible radiation increase. The president had gone on the Public Address system to confirm this. They'd been assured that all was well.

Penelope stretched slightly, dropping her eyes from the haunting visage. She had other things to worry about besides what she looked like. Like keeping everyone on the first levels safe and calm.

Because of her prior experience with managing people, she'd been chosen to help lead the peace mission. She felt wildly out of place. But she recognized that the president and his advisors would only charge her with the task if they had confidence in her abilities.

She gained solace from knowing it was someone else's duty to keep the people fed. That was the hardest thing right now...finding enough food to keep the citizens from starving.

Autumn begins with that very first leaf

Detail from the Franconia Sculpture Garden

I like the detail of this sculpture. I think it shows a lot of emotion, futility, submission.

Haikus

A cinder block wall
My head leaning on your arm
A time and a place

A warm, sandy beach
My head resting on your lap
A time and a place

A day in the life
Holding my head in my hands
A time and a place

_______________________________


Put down your windows
Time never clears the cobwebs
He touches your hand

His glancing hand touched
You're consumed by that fire
Time slows to show peace

__________________________________


A call to action
Inertia often wins out
Attempt to rally

Helen Becomes Famous For The Wrong Reasons

This is a not very good attempt at conjoining a Writer's Toolbox exercise with a Drabble exercise. In this case. I think I hit all three Drabbles BUT the story lacks any interest. I like my title though.

Sticks Exercise
FS: After only 2 months, Helen decided to become an exotic dancer.
NS: It wasn't so much that I had been blind to the truth. It was just that I had seen the truth differently.
LS: The tear in her dress.

Drabble:
After only 2 months, Helen decided to become an exotic dancer. She was pretty enough and built nicely. Her current circumstances had made the decision easy enough. She was broke.

Helen Davis, 26, moved from Boise, Idaho, to Los Angeles on a whim. She'd had enough of living in the land of potatoes. She yearned to be where the action happened, where you could be somebody. She decided to become famous. That was her plan.

Spending her first days soaking in all the wonder that Hollywood can hold for a tourist, she found it all so intriguing and exciting.

Double Drabble:
Helen soon discovered that Los Angeles was a lot more expensive than Boise. She temped as a receptionist, a file clerk. She waited tables. She auditioned.

A friend told her about what used to be known as a "gentleman's club", suggesting that she get a job there. The tips were good, getting better the more you flirted with the clientele. She decided to give it a try. Poverty erases shame.

She soon got over her shyness and was raking in the big bucks.

After a time, she began to feel cheap and dirty. It was how she was being treated.

Triple Drabble:

She began to hate the job that she felt trapped in. She would show up with a tear in her dress, stockings torn.

After one particularly rough night she told her friend, "It wasn't so much that I had been blind to the truth. It was just that I had seen the truth differently. I just don't understand why people do what they do." She'd had to visit the hospital emergency room that night. She wouldn't talk about it. One night changed her from a young lady to a hardened woman. One night she decided to take her own life.

Haikubes freeform words

I will attempt to use these more often. Very effective for kick-starting a haiku or quick lyric.

sang
specific
gentle
wise
moonlight
ground
hand
tried
flying
smooth
quickly
over
me
she

She gently sang over me
Smooth like an unfettered stream
She gently sang over me
Smooth like a placid wind
________________________

I now close my eyes
I am off of the ground and
I am flying high

Specific and wise
She gently sang over me
She watched over me

Moonlight and shadow
She gently sang over me
She watched over me

Conga story

One day, while living in West Hollywood, I was walking home from the New Beverly movie theater and came upon a guy having a little sidewalk "garage" sale.

Among other treasures, he had a full size set of congas. I had to have those congas.

I made him swear not to sell them to anyone. I rushed home to my apartment I shared with Sheryl and grabbed my bank card and car keys. I had to get $125 in cash NOW.

And I had my fingers crossed that a pair of full sized congas would fit into a 1972 VW Beetle. In case you are wondering, they do...just.

He was still there with the drums when I returned. I became the proud owner of a set of congas for probably 2 or 3 years. They were loads of fun. I used to drum to all sorts of ethnic music from around the world.

When I left California for good, I sold everything. I was really sad to have to let them go. But as it turned out, my next adventure had no place for congas. I was off to Alaska. But that's a story for another time.

Across the sky - random lyric bits and a couple haikus to boot

Moonbeam dances a bridge across the sky
    (the moon is out tonight - the moon is out tonight)
Starlight twirls and dances across the sky
    (the stars are out tonight - the stars are out tonight)

It's only fair that something turn out right
Venture into uncharted and unfamiliar space

A bleak hotel room
Cracked mirror reflects sadness
Scuffed and worn baggage

Books to protect me
Venture toward the unknown
Close my eyes and plunge

Sticks exercise from Toolbox

FS: I put tulips under all the pillows, and then I set fire to the house.
NS: "There you go, making up lies again." That's what they told me.;
LS: that weekend in Duluth.

I put tulips under all the pillows, and then I set fire to the house. The thing with the tulips; that was the reason I was in the loony bin instead of in jail. Suited me just fine. I was trying to make a statement but I don't think anyone got what I was trying to say. I'd rather be in this hospital anyway, the people are more interesting. By far.

We have group therapy twice a day, morning and before dinner, and a one-on-one with our assigned psychiatrist once per day. My input in group has gone from active to non-existent. All because they don't believe me. "There you go, making up lies again." That's what they told me. And more than once. If I am not going to be listened to then what's the point of contributing at all. Why can't they believe me when I tell the stories of my past, replete with detail and imagery? Why does my psychiatrist not talk to the staff and make them understand that I've had a very colorful life?

It's getting to be spring here and the bulbs are sprouting. They love their tulips in this town. I notice things like that. It's something you have to be aware of if you are going to understand me. I guess the abundance of them is what prompted me to use tulips instead of carnations, a flower I despise. Anyway, you see why they didn't understand. You see why I'm in this place. That's what I get for spending that weekend in Duluth.

Someone's red leather journal - Sixth Sense card from Writer's Toolbox

An estate sale at a big dusty old house.
A box of random items for $20.
Several items including someone's red leather journal: Old, scuffed and stained with time.
Smells of musty attics and basements.
Who's to know where it has been over the years.
Should I open it or keep it's secrets safely tucked away forever?

This leather: worn and faded, scuffed and scratched, soft and pliable.
This paper: worn and faded, raw-edged and tea-stained, brittle and musty.

I give in to my curiousity. I open the book reverently.
Pages filled with scrawls and sketches. Page after page after page. What an adventure this shall be!

Pic from a couple years ago