Poem Spam

[brigdh]

You know, I am smart enough that it really shouldn't have taken me this long to make the connection that, if I keep getting upset and depressed on Sundays, it probably has something to do with the fact that all my social contact is on Mondays and Tuesdays. Even I don't like to be left alone with my thoughts for quite that long.

I'd say the problem would be helped if I had more schoolwork to do, but I certainly don't lack for that.

Regardless, I need to think of something to do about it; these days where it takes until after 5 in the evening before I manage to get dressed aren't helping anything. Though I suppose I could blame it all on the rain and chilly weather instead, as it can't really be November unless I've already made quite clear to everyone in range of hearing exactly how much I loathe the winter. I mean, it's dark by 4:30! The hell kind of day is that? I don't appreciate needing to turn on lights when it's that early, o seasons, or the turning of the earth, or whoever I can accuse of doing this to spite me.

I could quote poetry to make my point, too, as you all would probably appreciate that more than my whining (IMPORTANT NOTE: do you realize I could legitimately have Alec and Richard quote poetry in a story?! Clearly I have to stay in the fandom until I've made use of that at least once. I mean, come on, Hisoka and Sanzo would scoff at the very idea of poetry). Though I should lose my habit of posting this poem at the beginning of winter, as it's so much better suited to February or so.


My Worst Habit
Rumi

My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I'm with.

If you're not here, nothing grows.
I lack clarity. My words
tangle and knot up.

How to cure bad water? Send it back to the river.
How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.

When water gets caught in habitual whirlpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. There is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so hard
they can't hope.

The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.

Look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back toward you.

***

Don't let your throat tighten
with fear. Take sips of breath
all day and night, before death
closes your mouth.

Comments

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Dude, yes. How could I forget Goujun? He would be excellent in a poetry contest. Though if Kenren starts it, I have to wonder what the prize for the winner is. *laughs* You might end up with more than UST.

...and why have you not written this yet? Poetry + Clayman + plotty Get Backers fic = genius, I'm convinced.

Heeeee! "The claws that catch"? Yes, that works very well.

Yes. If only so I can read the stories that would result. We could always do it in April, for National Poetry Month.

[ranalore.livejournal.com]

You might end up with more than UST.

I'm not seeing the problem, here. *G*

I haven't written because it'd be plotty, and possibly long, and take brainspace I currently don't have. Possibly when I'm done with certain other projects. *G*

"The claws that catch," just so. *G* Of course, the image that just popped into my head was Akabane reciting "The Cremation of Sam McGee," so possibly I shouldn't be in charge of that department. ;-)

Oh, hey, that's a good plan! And gives us time to think about the format. *G*

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Of course, the image that just popped into my head was Akabane reciting "The Cremation of Sam McGee," so possibly I shouldn't be in charge of that department. ;-)

Ha! I adore that poem (possibly because I used to try to memorize the bits where Sam's complaining about being cold), so the idea of Akabane reciting it cracks me up. That is genius.

Also, April is my birthday. Clearly everyone should write poetry-fic for my benefit. *grins*

[ranalore.livejournal.com]

It's my father's favorite poem, so I heard it a lot growing up. Akabane reciting it would be priceless. *G* Then there's the part of me that'd like to see Frost as interpreted through Akabane. "I have been one acquainted with the night," indeed.

Really, though, I betcha Akabane writes his own haiku.

All the more reason, clearly!