rakasha: (Default)
Prayer to Persephone

Be to her, Persephone,
All the things I might not be:
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a little lonely child
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee:
Say to her, "My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here."

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

Poetry

Sep. 28th, 2009 10:38 pm
rakasha: (Default)
Just trying to get back into the swing of things.

Pausing: For Halloween

There's an echo close beside me, when I'm walking in the evening
When I'm walking down the sidewalk, right before the bus-stops close.
Just the crack of dead old oak leaves, and the rasp of fallen timber
On the slope just one step sideways, where the old dim forest grows.

If I stop for half a moment, it'll just go one without me
So I hurry up to catch it, skittering 'cross nook and knoll
Because it is just damn eerie to be walking in the evening
And to hear footsteps beside you and to never see a soul.

It won't pause if I am lagging, and that makes me feel better,
Makes me sorry, too, for what it is that's waiting all in vain
For a bus that just ain't coming - cause it pauses by the stop-sign
Where the old three-fourty used to stop before they closed the lane.

I don't know, and I don't want to, but you won't fine me waiting
When I'm walking in the evening, leaning forward 'neath my load
I can hear echoes beside me
Hear the sound of footsteps guide me
As I'm walking, walking, walking, walking down old Forest road.
rakasha: (Default)
Have I mentioned recently that I hate midterms?

It's not the work, really - I don't mind working hard, though I'll complain about it none the less. It's actually the sheer amount of time
it takes to study - I can't help but think of all the other things I could do with that time...

At any rate, I digress.

Here's a poem I wrote a while ago - when I was bored sick in class and out math teacher was giving us a lecture on religion, philosophy, and mythology (he certainly seemed to be trying to exort the virtues of the First Church of Math).

On spokes of a wheel, and the language that is as sharp and clear as a diamond in a bowl of clear glass globes.

Hub )
rakasha: (one-winged Sephiroth)
Title: Shades of Glory
Author: owleyes_arisen
Rating: T
Length: 375 words
Warnings: Spoilers for Vincent's background.
Summary: A poem on Vincent - his story, his sin. For just as Sephiroth is called the One-Winged Angel, Vincent has another name as well - ChaosWinged. This is a poem on how he aquired the name.

Shades of Glory )
rakasha: (Default)
Much to my surprise, I have found that my best poetry and writings in general seem to emerge when I should be paying attention to my lectures. I try not to give in to the urge - education's important - but sometimes the muse beats me over the head with mallet-sama and forces me to write. This poem came about as a direct response to a teacher's half-hour rant on "What I Did During My Summer Vacation". I'm serious. He actually took a good half-hour of class time to tell us about his holidays, and displayed Hughes-like attitudes with his photos. ("This is me by the glacier - this is my dog on the glacier - this is my wife - isn't she pretty! - on the glacier...")
At any rate, this is poem about falling into the darkness, about a choice that really isn't a choice at all - of ice and darkness and the last flickering traces of warmpth.

Embers in Ice )
rakasha: (Default)
Another poem - I have no idea how to summarize. I'm particularly pleased with the strucutre - and the way it darkens over time.
Note - the "Singer in the Silence" reference is a common motif in my works.

Midnight Eyes )
rakasha: (Default)
Finally got my hands on a copy of the FMA movie today. The picture wasn't very good, and the sound was hazy, but I absolutly relished it. I was in a happy haze for hours after - finally, so much stuff makes sense!

Oh yeah - and a poem I wrote earlier. Set in the anime series Magic Kaito (fun, really - I recommend it to all.)
While it is good to laugh at magic's games, still, never forget magic's price. A poem about the division of character, of an ancient, silent grief  of masks and temptations, and the moon over all.
Janus )
rakasha: (envy)
It should come as no suprise to the reader that my favorite passages in the bible are contained in the book of Revelations. I love the prophecies that are written there - the fine, dramatic writing style. And I love the images presented there.
So here is my latest work. Chilling and cold, almost playful in its viciousness. Subtlties unseen, and dreams long dead. And a simple phrase, whispered over and over again - and phrase that annouces the End of All,
So come and see.

Revelations )
rakasha: (Krad)
Based on the quote "The child is father to the man". A poem that explores the relationship between Hohenhiem and his eldest son, the Sin whom he created. Spoken by a distant observer, it delves into the meaning of family, blood, and hope. Please R+R.

Father to the Man )
rakasha: (Default)
Another poem vaguely reminiscent of Ishbal. I don't know exactly who is speaking at the moment - but I got a sense of Kimberly when I was writing it. A reflection, somewhat, during the endless, still moments before violence is unleashed and fire splits the sky.

Control )

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