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When the calendar brings in the cuckoo
For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remember'd is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
—Algernon Charles Swinburne, Atalanta in Calydon (1865)
It's the first day of spring. My poem "If Fallen Angels Dream of Flight," written in 2004 for a dream of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lesser_celery's, has been accepted by Ideomancer. There is still an impressive amount of snow in the front yard.
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remember'd is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
—Algernon Charles Swinburne, Atalanta in Calydon (1865)
It's the first day of spring. My poem "If Fallen Angels Dream of Flight," written in 2004 for a dream of
lesser_celery's, has been accepted by Ideomancer. There is still an impressive amount of snow in the front yard.
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I must get my Swinburne out and re-read the whole poem.
"Come with bows drawn and with emptying of quivers...."
What wonderful language!
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It's very handily online.
The ivy falls with the Bacchanal's hair
Over her eyebrows hiding her eyes;
The wild vine slipping down leaves bare
Her bright breast shortening into sighs;
The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves,
But the berried ivy catches and cleaves
To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare
The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies.
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Yay, you. My dreams are usually boring, but that one was cool, and the poem is that much better. I'm glad other folks will get a chance to enjoy it.
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*would .. you like to .. play a game?*
Last night I dreamed of a dozen stacked laboratories where experiments in evil and subjugation were taking place, and sneaking in to one of them and using one of their weapons to destroy the facility and, sadly, the eastern seaboard ( :@ ). At that point I got a ghost's eye view of everything that followed, set to Thom Yorke's Cymbal Rush
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Yes, and you should have received my e-mail about it. Damn you, webmail!
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Have some more!
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Thank you!
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Your dreams are hardly boring. You should turn more of them into poems.
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That's marvelous.
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Congratulations.
There is still an impressive amount of snow in the front yard.
I'd gladly take some of it off your hands.
Magnet, "Opening Music / Loving Couples / The Ruined Church"
I burned the soundtrack to CD and have been listening to it whenever I drive somewhere. Lately I've been noticing how Christopher Lee puts a subtle emphasis on "man" when he mentions Howie's "appointment with the wicker man." It makes me wonder if there's a big wicker duck somewhere . . .
Sure wish I knew why the links to your poems are making my browser crash.
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Thanks!
It makes me wonder if there's a big wicker duck somewhere . . .
That would, actually, be awesome.
Sure wish I knew why the links to your poems are making my browser crash.
That's not good. Which ones?
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I read to fast--the only link here crashing my browser is actually the link to a Swinburne poem in your reply to
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And, by the way, I recently finished reading Singing Innocence and Experience, and enjoyed it very much. I especially liked how you would set a story in our world but make it distinctly other. Yours are the greatest number of short stories I've enjoyed that are set in our world; usually I prefer my fantasy set in other worlds. (I did love the one other-world story, but loved some of the others just as much.) Your writing has a particular flow to it, one that made your stories and poems a joy to read.
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I think this is one of the most complimentary things anyone has said about my writing.
Thank you!
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