coyotesuspect | Entries tagged with poetry

Hey bbs~

This happened.

me: so I'm thinking of leaving livejournal for good
familiar: so I'm thinking of making a poetry comm to store poems I like
me: ...can I comod?

So now [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com] and I are running a poetry comm. It is basically just for us to post poems we like so we can keep track of them. But if you're interested in getting some more poetry in your life, we're at [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]. I don't think you can join, but you should be able to watch.

The Age of Dinosaurs

There are, of course, theories
about the wide-eyed, drop-jawed
fascination children have for them,
about how, before he's learned
his own phone number or address,
a five-year-old can carry
like a few small stones
the Latin tonnage of those names,
the prefixes and preferences
for leaf or meat.

My son recites the syllables
I stumble over now,
sets up figures as I did
years ago in his prehistory.
Here is the green ski slope
of a brontosaur's back,
there a triceratops in full
gladiator gear. From the arm
of a chair a pterodactyl
surveys the dark primeval carpet.

Each has disappeared from time
to time, excavated finally
from beneath a cabinet
or the sofa cushions, only
to be buried again among its kind
in the deep toy chest,
the closed lid snug as earth.
The next time they're brought out
to roam the living room
another bone's been found

somewhere, a tooth or fragment
of an eggshell dusted off,
brushing away some long-held notion
about their life-span
or intelligence, warm blood
or cold. On the floor
they face off as if debating
the latest find, what part
of which one of them
has been discovered this time.

Or else they stand abreast
in one long row, side
by scaly side, waiting to fall
like dominoes, my son's
tossed tennis ball a neon yellow
asteroid, his shadow a dark cloud
when he stands, his fervor for them
cooling so slowly he can't feel it—
the speed of glaciers, maybe,
how one age slides into the next.

James Scruton

motherlessguns

motherlessguns

Join it.

It's a comm to post fanpoetry that you've written about the Winchesters, or to post poems in general that remind you of the Winchesters.

Flist, I think you all know by now how I feel about both poetry and the Winchesters.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! with joy. I expect every single thing Siken's written to be posted there.

***

Safely at camp! There's internet and I possibly have more free time than anticipated and my roommate who is not supposed to be my roommate (we're very close, and she had an extra bed in her room, so I moved out of mine and into hers) is letting me use her laptop while she sleeps.

So I decided to pimp WINCHESTER POETRY COMM. As it's very important.

*waves*

omg USA plays Ghana tomorrow and I won't be able to watch until laaaate.

Professor: I watched a man drown once.
Entire class: D:
Professor: *chuckles as if reminiscing fondly*
Entire class: *jerks away from professor*
Professor: I don't know why I chuckled at that.
Entire class: . . .
Professor: *chuckles again*

~~~

Mmm. School. Speaking of, guess what I'm not doing right now? That's right. School. Since yesterday I've written something like 5000 words of ridiculous J2 AU which is not any of the essays or fannish obligations I should be writing.

And, I'm just. I'm almost done. Maybe 1000 to another 2000 words, and it's been so long since I've actually written anything, let alone finished anything (hello oddly productive winter quarter!). That I don't even want to sleep, even though it actually hurts to look at my screen right now and I'll be incredibly busy the next two days because of the Art Festival.

So I'm breaking my hiatus to whine at you about my poor life decisions. Which are poor.

And I still can't write porn. Goddammit.

~~~

ETA: Have a poem:

The Blue Boat

How late the daylight edges
toward the northern night
as though journeying
in a blue boat, gilded in mussel shell

with, slung from its mast, a lantern
like our old idea of the soul

-Kathleen Jamie

Straw House, Straw Dog

1
I watched TV.        I had a Coke at the bar.      I had four dreams in a row
where you were burned, about to burn, or still on fire.
                I watched TV.    I had a Coke at the bar. I had four Cokes,
four dreams in a row.

Here you are in the straw house, feeding the straw dog. Here you are
                in the wrong house, feeding the wrong dog. I had a Coke with ice.
I had four dreams on TV.         You have a cold cold smile.
                You were burned, you were about to burn, you're still on fire.

Here you are in the straw house, feeding ice to the dog, and you wanted
                an adventure, so I said          Have an adventure.
The straw about to burn, the straw on fire. Here you are on the TV,
                 saying Watch me, just watch me.

2
Four dreams in a row, four dreams in a row, four dreams in a row,
                 fall down right there. I wanted to fall down right there but I knew
you wouldn't catch me because you're dead. I swallowed crushed ice
pretending it was glass and you're dead. Ashes to ashes.

You wanted to be cremated so we cremated you and you wanted an adventure
                 so I ran         and I knew you wouldn't catch me.
You are a fever I am learning to live with, and everything is happening
                  at the wrong end of a very long tunnel.

3
I woke up in the morning and I didn't want anything, didn't do anything,
                   couldn't do it anyway,
just lay there listening to the blood rush through me and it never made
                   any sense, anything.

And I can't eat, can't sleep, can't sit still or fix things and I wake up and I
wake up and you're still dead, you're under the table, you're still feeding
                   the damn dog, you're cutting the room in half.
Whatever.            Feed him whatever.         Burn the straw house down.

4
I don't really blame you for being dead but you can't have your sweater back.
                   So, I said, now that we have our dead, what are we going to do with them?
There's a black dog and there's a white dog, depends on which you feed,
                    depends on which damn dog you live with.

5
Here we are
                 in the wrong tunnel, burn O burn, but it's cold, I have clothes
all over my body, and it's raining, it wasn't supposed to. And there's snow
                 on the TV, a landscape full of snow, falling from the fire-colored sky.

But thanks, thanks for calling it           the blue sky
                 You can sleep now, you said. You can sleep now. You said that.
I had a dream where you said that. Thanks for saying that.
                 You weren't supposed to.

-Richard Siken

Current Music: trapeze swinger - iron & wine

Title: This Girl Is a Hurricane
Subject: Jo Harvelle
Notes: Jo is the only character in canon to have chosen to be a hunter. She's tough and she's vulnerable; she's brave, and she's naive and she's tragic. This a fanmix that covers the arc of her story and examines who she is and her relationships to her mother, her father, and Dean and Sam. Implied unrequited Jo/Dean.
Dedicated to:

scorpiod1, not for any special occasion, but because I love you babe, and I love how much you love Jo. Also, I kept thinking of you while making this. Thank you for being such a sweet and wonderful friend.

Fanmix includes front and back covers, lyrics, uploads of individual songs, a .zip of all the songs together, and a bonus poem.

Enjoy! And remember, feedback is good karma.

Huge thanks to

familiardevil for the hand-holding, help, and encouragement. ♥ I couldn't (and wouldn't) have done this without you.

( with a heart full of mess and lore, we were doomed but we wanted more )

1) The beautiful, fabulous, talented, and otherwise perfect

familiardevil has made this:

Don't lie. You needed that in your life.

2) I am thinking about changing my layout. To something colorful and cheerful but not eye-searing. It is something of a hard balance to find.

3) There is no three.

4) A week from now, I will be nineteen. Seven weeks from now, I will have finished my first year of college. Where does the time go?

5)

Who do you ship me with? meme

I suspect unsurprising results will be unsurprising.

6) Prose poem!

Get Drunk

One should always be drunk.( Read more... )

7) My little sister was awarded Student of the Year at her school! :D *cue joyful big sister squeeing*

8) ♥ ♥ ♥

I'm a romantic.

( Happy Valentines Day )

And to revive a meme that I did a couple months ago:

Comment here and I will tell you why I like/love you.

Even if we don't talk much, heck even if we have NEVER spoken, I want EVERYONE to participate. If you want to share the love and do the same at your journal, go ahead. You're under no obligation to carry it on if you comment here.

Go on everyone needs more love in their life.

~*~*~*~

Sonnet 17

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
in which there is no I or you
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand
so intimate that when you fall asleep it is my eyes that close

-Pablo Neruda

Two posts in the same afternoon? D:

But oh well. I FEEL LIKE SPREADING SOME LOVE.

Meme stolen from

lavendergaia :

Comment here and I will tell you why I like/love you.

Even if we don't talk much, heck even if we have NEVER spoken, I want EVERYONE to participate. If you want to share the love and do the same at your journal, go ahead. You're under no obligation to carry it on if you comment here.

Go on everyone needs more love in their life.

I've got class in ten, but when I get back, I'll have lots of love to spread around. <3

And have a poem:

Meanwhile

Driving, dogs barking, how you get used to it, how you make

                the new street yours.
Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like
              everything's okay,
       a feeling that lasts for one song maybe,
                                    the parentheses all clicking shut behind you.
                     The way we move through time and space, or only time.
The way it's night for many miles, and then suddenly
                                                                                  it's not, it's breakfast
      and you're standing in the shower for over an hour,
                                               holding the bar of soap up to the light.
I will keep watch. I will water the yard.
              Knot the tie and go to work. Unknot the tie and go to sleep.
                                                             I sleep. I dream. I make up things
      that I would never say. I say them very quietly.
                                                  The trees in wind, the streetlights on,
                    the click and flash of cigarettes
being smoked on the lawn, and just a little kiss before we say goodnight.
             It spins like a wheel inside you: green yellow, green blue,
                                                                         green beautiful green.
       It's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun. It's green. It's still green.

~Richard Siken

ETA: Remember that paper I was bitching about last week? Got it back today, and- A bitches!!!!

\o/ \o/ \o/

*g* Now onto the love!

So, I promise my next update will be fic. No. Really. It will be. (Yes,

familiardevil , it will be your fic, and I am sorry that it's late.)

Speak of

familiardevil (Yes, that's a pun. Go ahead, laugh. I'll wait for you to finish.), y'all should read The Angelic Sins of Swords and Bloody Echoes. It's the best kind of crack. Completely insane, but still extremely clever, and I literally had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard. It's Sam/Dean, it's rated R, it's not long, and it's hilarious. STARRING GABRIEL TIGERMAN AS THE ANGEL GABRIEL.

familiardevil claims that I beta'd it, but that really just means I ROFL'd while she wrote the story to me via AIM. And I may have made the cracktastical header for her. : X

Now have a meme. I nabbed it from several people. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

Post a fandom of mine and I'll tell you my.

♥ OTPs:
♥ Canon Ships:
♥ DNW Ships:
♥ Guilty Pleasure Ships:
♥ Frysquint and Ponder Ships:
♥ Crack Ships:
♥ Non-Ships that Everyone Else Ships:

Fandoms are: Supernatural, Harry Potter, Leverage, Glee, Entourage, HIMYM, Psych, Bones, CWRPS, and, idk, a lot of others. Just throw something at me and if I don't know the fandom, I'll just make something up. Mmkay?

I (STILL) haven't seen 5.03, but-OMG- IT'S FINALLY UP ON THE CW'S WEBSITE. Except it's my first day of classes tomorrow, and I have to wake up at six in the morning to go jump in the lake (No, really. I do. It's a house tradition.) I was gonna say screw it and spend 45 minutes watching the episode, but my friend called and I spent 45 minutes talking to him instead. So I think I'll just sleep and watch 5.03 tomorrow.

Finally, have a poem:

I Would Remain by Night with You

I would remain by night with you
who, having held me once, wrapped everything I knew
into my sleeping body's hold and held fast and stayed.

( Read more... )

Watched 5.02 and enjoyed it. Have a lot of thinky-thoughts about it that I'll try to type up later.

Oh, and have a (completely unrelated, I swear! >>) poem:

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

ETA: OMG I need to stop hanging out at Fandom Free For All. I have signed up to write so much fic. This is ridiculous. x__x

It is 5:30 in the morning.

And I have discovered something.

Actually, I have discovered something for the second time. Rediscovered, if you will. Like Columbus rediscovered America after the Vikings (and possibly the Chinese) gave it up for a lost cause.

This is what I have (re)discovered:

WRITING PORN IS HARD, GUYS.

And I do not mean that in a punny kind of way.

Much as I love puns.

. . .

That is all.

LESS THAN 48 HOURS. OMG.

Thank you for your time:

Technically, it's still Tuesday in California for a whole 'nother 29 minutes.

The way the author of this poem plays around with language and pop culture references really appeals to me.

Hard Day’s Night of the Living Dead

“Uptick in suicide seen as a sign of recession?”
(poem AGAINST suicide)

Don’t look back, the Morton Salt Girl
cried, There’s a bad moon on the rise…

( Read more... )

I dunno guys. This one always kinda reminded me of Sam and Dean. But which one's Paul Bunyan and which one's Babe the Blue Ox?

Highway 101 Revisited

I want to drive with you
To se the world’s largest Roosevelt elk herd-
Off Highway 101, north of Eureka, CA

I want to see some motherfucking elk!
To make up for a lifetime of broken highway sign promises
Promising elk when there were none

( Read more... )

(The poem alluded to in Flightless Bird.)

Straight Talk from Fox

Listen says fox it is music to run
   over the hills to lick
dew from the leaves to nose along
    the edges of the ponds to smell the fat
ducks in their bright feathers but
   far out, safe in their rafts of
sleep.( Read more... )

Morning

I've got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
( Read more... )

The Burning of Paper Instead of Children

I was in danger of verbalizing my
moral impulses out of existence.
--Daniel Berrigan, on trial in Baltimore

( Read more... )

The Cherry Blossom Proof

The Milky Way is shrinking
so the cherry-blossoms are
growing larger. You write me longer letters.
Therefore, God exists.
-- David Shapiro

The Rivers' Mouth

once:

We've always known. Death
unhinges the jaw.

Ptah, in his feathered costume
of a cast out delta religion,
awash in a protestant nation's
exhibition hall. "Implements
to mouth" a placard sedately
relates a calling out of spells to restore

There was a limbering of the lips
with old world libations, "ritual, known
as The Opening of the Mouth."

twice:

Sixteen and lost in Nebraska
in the ripening confusion here dear
meet some of your kin, your
age. A family reunion
with cousins training
for death. The family biz
out Midwest, of dressing up the dead.

Morticians, the Latin rose
to the surface in that word.
A career fair a week before
beautician, mathematician, no
mention of this

"the body's mouth was then
touched." The spells these young
men with my blood must know:
how to match the lips of the gone
with the memories
looking in: Desert Rose, yes, her
favorite. open casket; closed
sarcophagus. Either way.

thrice:

A boat beneath.
A pair of wings.

"Spells to restore the senses were recited"

Farmland and lace collars, bird
gods and gilt mummiform
statues. Requests across ages

for a final inspiration. Desire
held to the lips of those
who have no need.

Statistician…

~Elizabyth Hiscox