[x]

ElegyThat ever-circling hawk you see is death.
It never leaves your sight; is air its home?
Alas, it mastered air so it may hunt.
It may come down so fast and steep one day
that none could see it dive, yet you are gone.
Today you are too big, you are too strong.
But you will shrink, you will become a mouse.

Or death will grow till all your size and strength
are vain, and float mere inches overhead,
then take you with a twitch of its great beak.
It will take all you are, or nearly all.
The love you had for others and the love
they had for you cannot be caught or held
by talon or by beak, cannot be lost.

As death soars up again and

The Butterfly Keeper - ElegyThe Butterfly Keeper

I. Dust (April 2nd, 1992)

Three butterflies arranged by size and I
looked up to where they perched on the side table;
little winged gods glued to a corkwood branch, trapped
in a prison of plastic and metal, stamped in gold
a cardboard base and backing.

The house was dry
like camouflage and pear; walls
an autumn canopy,
degree of death dependant on the dusting.
Crawling in the carpet like a tick
I felt the rise and fall of floorboards
hidden under thick blades
of grass in olive drab.
Curtains drawn, no lights to stir
the air, dyed mausolea-green.

Her face, more distant than the butterflies’,
a blu

A Remembrance

As a remembrance for Veteran's Day and being a soldier, I thought I would write something that is dear to my heart. Something that was an experience I will never forget. What follows is a brief synopsis of the events leading up to the main occurrence.

In April 2003, the men and women of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment (3rd ACR) deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Though these men and women, who will be referred to from now on as Soldiers, were trained in their respective jobs and equipped to the standards of the United States Army at that time, none of them knew what to expect. Some, a small minority, had seen combat before,

Holy Water and Vodka. i“Let’s talk about the girls,” Gregory Neustadter said. "I’d like to start at the very beginning.”

It wasn’t an office with a chair and a couch and warm mahogany furnishings, but it would do. There was no bowl of courtesy mints on the table, and certainly no steaming cup of Earl Grey, but that could be easily justified. There was a fluorescent light and two chairs to be occupied; there was a steel door and no windows, to maintain privacy. The room had enough square footage on it so as not to induce claustrophobia, but was compact enough that the door was within a couple meters’ reach, if escape was necessary

The Long Shot        A flame licked at the end of a cigarette. The silver lighter clicked shut, and Old Man Morrison sat back in his chair. His hair was grey, his face lined with years and miles, his eyes wrinkled and keen. He took a drag from his cigarette, pulled it from his mouth with a deft motion of his fingers, blew the smoke out in a cloud before his face.
        "So you're the deserter, then," he prompted. "How'd you get that name, huh? Run out on some of your friends in the war?"
        The man across the table from him was

The Old Weathervane

The weathervane’s broke
So the wind has refused to blow.
The weathervane’s broke
So the wind has refused to blow.
I wouldn’t have believed it
But my Momma tol’ me so.

The clock on the wall
Be right jus’ twice a day.
The clock on the wall
Be right jus’ twice a day.
I give it a glance and then
I be on my way.

The pool’s run dry
I go swimmin’ in my mind.
Pool’s run dry
I go swimmin’ in my mind.
We could skinny dip on Thursday
But you ain’t the imaginin’ kind.

You got precision and exac’ness
But it – don’t feed your soul.
You got precision and exac’

The stormCartilage-smooth azure extends
above bent heads.
Furrows s t r e t c h b e y o

the edge

Hotel RulesThe lobby and front entrance are strictly out of bounds.

In the car park, if you ask yourself any of these questions – how you're going to get out of a spot, whether you're allowed to park there, if the monster truck beside you will crush your car when it leaves, if you'll crush the motor scooter in the next stall, whether your car will roll onto a different level, if you'll be able to find your car again, etc. – you're behaving normally and you will almost certainly find your car in the same state and location that you left it in.

Use the service staircase and corridor to avoid surprises. The more lush and carpeted a staircase is

My allotment"For a man is destined to but once to live and allotted to each one time to die. This is the way it has been and will always be."
_____________________________________________________

Well, I can't really explain how it all happened or even why, so you'll get no help that way. What I can do is tell you what happened and maybe you can help me with the rest.

I was born the same as everyone else, went to school in Bozeman – hated it just like everyone else – grew up, got a girlfriend, got a job nearby; you know, I was a normal person. I got married and had two kids. I never moved out of the area. When my eldest was just three, war b

The Melting ManI sat by my window, looking out over Summer Street, from the apartment I’d taken after Mary’s death. A potted ivy wilted on the sill - green in the center, brown around the edges. I hadn't had much luck with plants since Mary’d gone. My pipe needed reaming too, but I couldn’t muster the energy for even that small task.

The sky was darkening with the promise of rain as I watched the strange little man who lived down the hall come darting up the walk.

No one knew who he was. He lived in our building but his mailbox was simply emblazoned Occupied. He was a small man with merry little eyes, features indistinct beneath an inc

EnvyMaiden.

The space between us is slant rhyme,
Burning-in, saturation, and exposure time,
Ink curves he drew from a lead line,
The way his fingers fit in yours,
Instead of mine.

Mother.

You are difficult to hone, granite.
I am prone to severing.
You are a vestige made of stone
That I could never be.

Crone.

Are you what is happening to me?
Rain and gravity have
Weathered the weaker parts
They leave you standing
Strong, a pyramid, a mountain.
I am haunted: a cliff, daunted
By the sea.

the process.whiskey-tongued,
we are the delusions of an errant mind;

the mad machine, they called him, back in the days when the sun was worshipped
for his beautiful smile,
and all the virgins worth the flesh of their hymens flocked to die -

glorious against the resinous afterburn of dawn.

cocaine limbered,
we are the sought-after flashbacks of a mad-mans mind;

'the terrible undertaker,' they used to say, back in the days when the moon
was the bosom upon which our tear-streaked faces fell,

'will come with the star-break to take us away.'

delusions, illusion-less, force-fed karma suited for the everyday joe.
when the final coming beckons,

winter has swallowed the worldwinter has swallowed the world today,
his blistering fury biting at faces

and speckling tree trunks and window
panes. he disguises all things, provides

a pure slate of marble dust that blankets
every surface. when he finally settles down,

all things settle with him. the pine forest
has become a herd of mammoths, weary branches

quietly sweeping the ground below.

My WinterCardinals will
                drip
from the branches like
berries
and the sky will turn to smoke.
The ground crunches under your feet and it’s
Almost as if you could
         sail away
across the ice.
Brandished behind screens of glass
are fists of ivory
They are covered in scratches and
         bloom
from the dark like magnolia blossoms.

Cretaceous YardThe call came in at 1500 hours, exactly twenty minutes after Leviner returned from his break. He picked up the phone and listened.

"We'll be there right away, sir."

On the other side of the desk, his partner looked at him. "A homicide?"

"If only we could be so lucky," Leviner snorted, making Ellsie wince.

It was just another case of illegal dumping. Once the 'cera crew had cleared away the overgrowth of ferns, Leviner stalked his way in. "What do you see?" Ellsie called. Although the entrance to the small shed was large enough to easily accommodate Leviner, there was no way Ellsie was fitting inside. Not that it was her fault. Maiasaurs w

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Snowflakes JourneyFrost licks every twig
every blade, topping roofs
with Jack-glitter. Minus
degrees attract
her grey mantle; inhaling
pure ether as she comes.

Sisters float beside me-
let the goddess' gentle
winds brush me; guide me down
to him..

I crafted you with a silver pin
Etching unique patterns. Cherish
your aura,
for he will adore you.

The goddess whispered:
"Snow powders you tonight, find one flake"
My roots tingled with excitement, no
longer shrivelled cold. As skies
turned silver, natures pulse
echoed my entirety.

He presents to me--
each crisp grass blade stands to
attention. I hope he knows
the steps.

She lands--
rest

First Lovei.

Our bench:
rows of fairy lights rope
towards the turbulent city

Warm evenings, playing in the park,
till your mam came shouting .
Every night of summer.

You never cared how different we were.

ii.

Toilet paper decorates leafless trees and
your lungs fill with newly discovered smoke as
You admire your handiwork.
The sexes split. You tease
the girls for attention.

iii.

Those amber lights merely rows
upon rows of ugly terraces all designed by the same architect.

We never talk.

iv.

You were seen
with your hands
down her trousers

tomorrow you will blame intoxication.

v.

Under the red skies, we exchanged memories like

Threadbare Doll

Playing with threadbare doll,
Hestia waits
along a dusty path of rubble and dim lights.
The child hums, sweetly,
her own rhythmic fantasy adhered;
absent from the night of gunfire and blood.

High above on waning clouds
the Goddess is weeping;
she reaches for the girl--
the hearth of home is extinguished.
And the threadbare doll
has pleasure as she dances
between little grey pebbles
and the hands of the child.

Playing with threadbare doll,
Hestia waits
The child will soon see her.
The barefoot child with dirty
dress and dirty face crouched
over the ballroom floor
listening to invisible song.

Child, let me lift

Catkuwrimo 2009

1.

witnessed by stars
cheshire cat
smiles

2.

snow discovery!
kitten dislikes
cold taste

3.

lolling by fire
paws tickle
warm air

4.

mew from kitchen--
empty bowl, again

5.

a cat does not
appreciate
delicate rose petals

6.

window protection
the cat watches
curious world

7.

Little black cat,
lily pollen:
orange stripe

8.

wicked claws strike
on unsuspecting terrier.

9.

slumbering prowess:
it’s a hard
life

10.

yellow eyes yearn,
paw pads
koi pool waters

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Cristian Rosas

by ^Beccalicious, Apr 23, 2010, 3:42:34 PM
Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

Mediterranean breeze warmed my dreams;
cappuccino mornings blended
into Bacardi sunsets.
Tobacco smoulders and I remember-
his name was Cristian Rosas.

Sunset passed. Spirits poured
European measures- unlike tight English twenty-five mil,
relieving the throbs of snow white turned red queen.
The glow led our intoxicated journey. Sambuca fused.
We invaded the dance floor.

yellow lanterns,
blue, red, green
blue,
yellow, red,
green merged with smiles.
Freedom spun me to his arms.

Giggles blushed sunburn. Cristian Rosas
whispered his name.
Fingers caressed my shoulder;
pulses shot down my back.
Lights,
music people blurred
into echoes. His words
a treat richer than coffee. Citrus
perfume infused the heat; hunger took control.
Honey seeped into locked lips.

His wink broke the spell.

Notes flew off key. Samba swayed
a desperate grind of genitals, disgust
erupted in my throat. Honey
tinged saccharin;
backhand met cheek.

On patio furniture I sucked cigarettes.
Cappuccino froth sank with my lust,
imagining Cristian Rosas.

Cristian Rosasby ^Beccalicious

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

Updated 09/10/10- thank you to the lovely folk in the ladies of lit chatroom hosted by `LadyLincoln and especially to ^GaioumonBatou

Updated 24/05/10- Thanks to `fllnthblnk, `salshep and ^nycterent, this poem has been stripped bare naked and put back together in hope my prosey ways have been slayed by the secret wannabe poet

Thank you guys!

Updated 23/05/10- tweaked a few bits which weren't working and probably need to tweak it a little more too.

Okay this poem has been my distraction from script frenzy all week, and it's been frustrating me as I've been going along, hence why the second half is weak, but if I didn't put it up I would be still sat here is a rut with it.

The idea spawned from a friend who is currently stuck in Madrid because of the volcanic ash and the subsquent flight delays. Her facebook said she was giving up waiting for a flight home and instead trying to work out how to find footballer Cristinao Ronaldo so he could live with him in spain. So I wrote this to cheer her up.

Daily Deviation

Given 2010-10-23

Reality and romance spin an evocative dance in Cristian Rosas by @Beccalicious. ( Featured by `Memnalar )

Critique by *ThornyEnglishRose Apr 25, 2010, 3:29:32 AM

I like this a lot, but I do think it could be better. A couple of technical things first. In British English, it is 'smouldering' rather than 'smoldering'. Also, there is no such word as 'genaltalia'. I think you mean 'genitalia', which I think may be both too bald and too technical for this poem. It does come at a transition point in terms of the tone, but so far the language has been soft and poetic and somewhat euphemistic. Having said that, it is very difficult to think of words to substitute 'genitalia' that will match the tone of almost any piece. But I'd at least think about it.

This brings me to a general point about language. I think sometimes your word choices could be better. I'd keep the long words to a minimum. In moderation, they can help the poem to feel long and slow and sensual, but too many wordy lines get kind of tangled up in each other and eclipse the narrative.

The third stanza, I think, is lovely; good images, and fairly simple language. Then the following stanza is much weaker by comparison. The first and last sentences - 'Giggles behind me blushed the sunburn' and 'I fell into intensity' - both trip me up; I think both compromise on good grammatical sense in favour of flowery language. That first sentence in particular feels very drawn out. That is not to say that the images are bad; I think if you chopped them down and rearranged them a bit, this poem could work really well.

Already the heady atmosphere of a holiday romance, and the sense of nostalgia, are coming through. With a bit of pruning, I think this piece could be really great.

What do you think?

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*katarthis Aug 16, 2011 Hobbyist Writer

Interesting. So, someone didn't get the man she was imagining and when she saw it wasn't him, she smacked him?

lol. Probably left the bloke wondering what the heck he did wrong. Ah well, things happen. Or don't. But it's pretty neat.
And oh yes, congratulations on netting a DD.

k

~PTDaHood Nov 21, 2010

I missed that volcanic ash by a few weeks xD I was in Italy and Greece but left before it myself.

This is...a very beautiful structure. And lovely imagery. A treat richer than coffee; cappuccino froth, sucking cigarettes, European measures, and the uses of honey...

Gah, God, this is beautiful *__*

*SilverWynd Nov 13, 2010 Hobbyist General Artist

Wow I love this! I thought the concept was brilliant, and it set such a vivid scene. So original, and captivating.

~chadwood Nov 12, 2010 Writer

Hello Beccalicious - this was a great read, and I like all of the alcoholic beverage references. I generally like the use of food and drink imagery, because it created a quasi-olfactory response! Well done.

~lonelynightrain Oct 23, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

Wow you did a marvalous job on writing the poem!
All the words just really describe, and show a very detailed theme of the poem!
Marvalous job!
The Lord has blessed you with a wonderful talent, and gift for writing such beautiful poetry!
I hope that you have a great and blessed week, and may the Lord keep you and your family safe! ^_^

*Robenix Oct 23, 2010 Hobbyist Writer

I really like the imagery here. Great job!

~AnnamaeTezuka Oct 23, 2010

Wow. Great job!

~AlecWolfe Oct 23, 2010

Eeee, pulling this to pieces was well worth it. This is wonderful. The rhythm is so easy to read but somehow intense, if that really makes any sense. The colours and the simple descriptions are just what I associate with the Mediterranean and I find I can relate to the persona in this. There is an oddly understandable story here. Great work and congrats on the DD.

~mangaluverXD5 Oct 23, 2010 General Artist

Wow! Nice job! XD!

$namenotrequired Oct 23, 2010 Student Interface Designer

Wow, congrats on the DD hun

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