Aww, deb.
Mal: We're still flying. Simon: That's not much. Mal: It's enough.
'Serenity'
The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Liese S. - Mar 02, 2005 7:44:23 am PST #344 of 10001
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."
victor infante - Mar 02, 2005 8:02:01 am PST #345 of 10001
To understand what happened at the diner, we shall use Mr. Papaya! This is upsetting because he's the friendliest of fruits.
New poem, written in the "Written Right Now"contest at a local reading:
Light-Up Plastic Tiara
The apocalypse is a cable gameshow,
wears Vegas like a tiara,
smokes tobacco straight like scorched earth,
recycles in the late-night slots,
only the stoned will see it coming.
SailAweigh - Mar 02, 2005 8:06:50 am PST #346 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Aw, deb! You're not supposed to make me cry at work! Sniff.
ita, Liese, I loved both of yours. They make one stand back and go "whoa."
I'm particularly bereft of words for this topic. It might be because all I can think of is a pair of yellow shoes with black heels that I had in Spain. Loved those shoes. Never wore them in the states. They didn't fit.
erikaj - Mar 02, 2005 8:13:58 am PST #347 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
still thinking, too.And "I work alone." to get all noir about it, so I could cry or strip or whatever, but otherwise Sail is me.
Ginger - Mar 02, 2005 8:43:05 am PST #348 of 10001
"It didn't taste good. It tasted soooo horrible. It tasted like....a vodka martini." - Matilda
Yellow
Daffodils have no sense. The slightest hint of warmth and they push up through ivy, kudzu, unraked leaves, and the beer bottles and condoms on vacant lots. Sometimes they are the last visible sign of a house long gone. Kick at the dirt around a misplaced patch of daffodils and you may find a well, a foundation, a blackened hearth where some girl waited for daffodils and for spring. She shivered by the fire and dreamed of melting snow and tiny sprouts, the bright yellow of daffodils, the color of optimism, the shade of hope, the sign of unlikely survival.
Pix - Mar 02, 2005 9:26:47 am PST #349 of 10001
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
Deb, so sweet and sad.
Thanks for the tag, Erika! I adore it. I may keep it for a long long time.
Victor, I like the new poem.
erikaj - Mar 02, 2005 9:37:28 am PST #350 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
You wrote that last night, Victor? OK, another reason to be a Victor fangirl.
Pix - Mar 02, 2005 9:41:04 am PST #351 of 10001
We're all getting played with, babe. -Weird Barbie
Oh Ginger, I just read yours. I love it. The first sentence really just says it, don't you think?
victor infante - Mar 02, 2005 9:55:45 am PST #352 of 10001
To understand what happened at the diner, we shall use Mr. Papaya! This is upsetting because he's the friendliest of fruits.
Thanks, Erika and Kristin. Yeah, the "Written Right Now" contest is weekly at the Frantic Rabbit reading, here in Worcester. The host, Gary, presents a strange-ass prize, and everybody has ten minutes to write a poem about it. Hopefully, Thessaly will post hers, which won, on her livejournal.
Steph L. - Mar 02, 2005 11:47:36 am PST #353 of 10001
the hardest to learn / was the least complicated
Ginger, your drabble reminds me of an ee cummings poem that I love:
In Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring
when the world is puddle-wonderful
the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
it's
spring
and
the
goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee