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Get closer, and see.
Two, of course there are two. It seems perfectly natural now --- The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded And balled¸ like Blake's. Who exhibits The birthmarks that are his trademark --- The scald scar of water, The nude Verdigris of the condor. I am red meat. His beak Claps sidewise: I am not his yet. He tells me how badly I photograph. He tells me how sweet The babies look in their hospital Icebox, a simple Frill at the neck Then the flutings of their Ionian Death-gowns. Then two little feet. He does not smile or smoke. The other does that His hair long and plausive Bastard Masturbating a glitter He wants to be loved. I do not stir. The frost makes a flower, The dew makes a star, The dead bell, The dead bell. Somebody's done for. Sylvia Plath, Dead & co. |
something about me
ruefully sketched out
Hello. My name is Edda "Lottie", and I inhabit the world wide web in my free time, the classrooms on weekdays, my austere bedroom in the early morning,
evenings and on weekdays, but in the filled hollow of my mind I tarry there permanently to fill it up with important memories. I reside there daily,
examining the drawings framed nicely and hung on the walls, noting the departures of the forgotten and arrival of the new things and counting my fingers
in the living room. Enjoying the lurid details of a recent novel play back repeatedly, and as I watch the mundane going-ons of the world outside I gradually
descend into listlessness. And then I write, drawing strength and simple pictures from the rooms I had visited, the lurkers in the corridors, without an intimation
of what is next but unlikely to stop, as I pen stories about—say, a veterate liar or a bubbly affirmative classmate—much lies in progressive discovery and revelation. I enjoy
writing about many people at once, switching characters and personality as quick as the slipping on and off of a nightgown, taking great care that they do not melt into one another.
The aftermath: some of theirs leak into my life, and owing to this, sudden spasmodic spates of emotion that leave me withdrawn and thoughtful of my next move.Greetings to you from Vertical Nautilus, my story weblog. Find me too at fictionpress: thepapercult. Bite me. |
links
Books & Literature ClassicsShakespere Sci-Fi/Fantasy Quotations Psychology Fiction Writing The Work of Plath Edgar Allan Poe: Biography & Works notable works
AnntoniiTheory of Nothing credits
layout: (supervillain)codings: inksplash inspirations: minty-peach |
Thursday, December 11, 2008 @11:41 PM
Dancing light
 Across the sky I will come for you If you ask me to Demystify Your uncommon dreams Stranger things have come true "Across The Sky" -Emilie Autumn Dancing light Waving skies Partly obscured The sun shines
Sunday, November 9, 2008 @7:24 PM
A soppy Valentines' Day poem. Not what I could do, but I found it in a notebook I thought lost. Digging up memories. Written: 11 June 2008 Dashing, running with all fears abandon Straight into the day of all hopes Lest that dream become a fragment Of wistfulness, of life eroded Gazinf with wide eyes at the passing crowd In the covered walkway, in strong sun Though a smile would set hearts aflutter Waiting still seems to be better Maybe therw would be another meeting today Yet, in the empty day's retrest Though the hand might be lonely The heart only warms of 'if only'. Labels: poems hope and emotion.
Written: 7 June 2008 I have been trying to find myself all along Looking at images finding a semblance among figures wrapped in dresses crossing the street books with all pretty stories laid in it getting caught up with chasing dreams winsome things tired little bothersome things the colours and sights spin so fast 'tis hard; to catch breath and make it last I see the end as I turn around and everything looks the same as it sounds Been hiding in corners watching prowling shadows of past friends and lovers Wondering who would give and try saving the last dances for someone like me Or would from vain reverie wake me tenderly Forgetting purposes, drifting ad infinitum looking forward to something Yet looms the uncertainty and fear of finding nothing I turn weary, time stops still Be guided into joys or sorrows The tiny voice still says to anticipate a tomorrow Labels: poems fog
the fog treads noiselessly on soft kitten paws frolicking amongst rolling waves wisps curling round corners reasons.
He looked up at her with empathy the size of a marble. There were reasons to almose everything--including why she handed in her resignation letter this afternoon. Over a simple lunch, her superior had demanded an explanation to it. She had tried, although not in the most polite of attempts, to tell her the aftermath of the incident, of which had caused a major commotion among her colleagues, had left her feeling too abashed to even set foot past the automated glass doors of the company for a second time, hearing the hushed whispers grate on her ears. Moreover, the situation was made even worse by her bosses, them having abdicated all responsibility in this affair. Hackles were reaised throughout the company and information spread like wildfire, some even leaking out to the press, heralding greater humiliation. It was all too much for her to take. Besides this, Belimda Sandlers had also many current issues, many of these being annoyingly disturbing to the extremes. One such issue was that of her son Jeff, who, according to the teachers, had displayed abberant behaviour and was swiftly becoming a problematic student. She had already tried to explain but after not being taken seriously, desisted. If Jeff was not committing an offence or abetting someone else to do it, it was fine. Maybe he was just as sick of life as she was. Well, there was no cause for concern. There were reasons to almost everything. Almost. Labels: scraps
Wednesday, November 5, 2008 @11:37 PM
a prayer.
Written: nearly two years ago. Dear Lord thou art whom in heaven, As I get through this day If it is Your Will, keep me in thy sight In every possible way Help me to put stormy skies Out of my sight always Trusting and relying on you To lead me to better days Help me to do thy Will No matter how strong lures may be To put you first in all I do The heavenly view in faith I see When at times I snare my foot in a thicket Or thought your care wasn't enough Teach me patience, lead me away As I tread the narrow path Not only for me but my friends Who walk this way with me Take them also into thy mercy and care For a friend is as close as a friend can be For the oppressed and the poor The sick and the dying I pray that you'll give them comfort Neath the shelter of thy wings Also for the lost in this world today Is it nothing but a blessing to bo Your children If only they could know you Help them Lord with wisdom to learn Lastly I pray that if it is your Will That your blessings you may send For this I sincerely pray dear Father In Jesus' name, amen. Labels: poems unimportant notice of change
I would need a relink, if indeed people do link to this blog. Willow Swans is Willow Swans no longer! Vertical Nautilus, a revamped name. I used to think that revamped meant...oh nevermind. If I confessed, people would laugh. Labels: updates |
