Entry tags:
Mikey's Fluorite
I gave a pretty rock to Mikey once. Just a little thing, but so much about it reminded me of him. These are the words that went with it.
( Read more... )
( Read more... )
Entry tags:
Half past two in the morning
The hour is late
The moon is bright
My Husband snores
As do my cats
I was too warm
And now I'm chilled
No sleep tonight
Despite the pills
Poo.
The moon is bright
My Husband snores
As do my cats
I was too warm
And now I'm chilled
No sleep tonight
Despite the pills
Poo.
Art is dead. No, wait, listen. Did you hear that? OMG! Run!
Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
punktortoise who pointed out that in this age of the zombie, no art form ever truly dies. To which I responded (perhaps hastily):
( A pome )
punktortoise who pointed out that in this age of the zombie, no art form ever truly dies. To which I responded (perhaps hastily):( A pome )
Rumbles
I was drawn outside by the still and the hint of a rumbling purr in the sky. As I stood, head thrown to the heavens and senses alive I felt the stirrings of a giant's heart. It's alive! Slowly but certainly, each beat from the clouds formed a living pulse.
The earthbound radar revealed the armies of the gods massing on the horizon, poised to unleash themselves on sweltering suburbia. Teased by the touch of potential electricity, the magic things emerged from their hiding places in the trees and shrubs.
Tonight. Tonight, things might come. Things might happen. Things might fly. The lucky ones might die.
Wait.
The earthbound radar revealed the armies of the gods massing on the horizon, poised to unleash themselves on sweltering suburbia. Teased by the touch of potential electricity, the magic things emerged from their hiding places in the trees and shrubs.
Tonight. Tonight, things might come. Things might happen. Things might fly. The lucky ones might die.
Wait.
Entry tags:
It's got rhythm, otherwise your guess is as good as mine
.
A misanthropic antelope
drank a cup of tea.
While pondering the universe,
he was all at sea.
"Why are we here?" he thought to self,
while searching for a bite.
"And who made all those ugly people
clogging up my sight?"
A misanthropic antelope
drank a cup of tea.
While pondering the universe,
he was all at sea.
"Why are we here?" he thought to self,
while searching for a bite.
"And who made all those ugly people
clogging up my sight?"
A pome
London-Based Sister (LBS) made the short list for a sonnet competition and so will be published in the anthology. With her permission I reproduce the work here.
( Actually, here )
( Actually, here )
The Big Day
After many delays, BB set off for his first round of radio and chemo this morning.
( Read More. WARNING: May contain traces of limerick )
( Read More. WARNING: May contain traces of limerick )
Song for Trevor: The 12 Days of Treatment
BB starts radiotherapy and chemo on Monday Tuesday (changed *again*), and so I dedicate the following song to Trevor the Tumour, who will be leaving us shortly.
( Screw you, Trevor )
( Screw you, Trevor )