Roses, Glitter and Faerie Wings

~*~

Roses, glitter and faerie wings

Is what of which I am made

The thorns of the roses may sting

The wings do not always lift me

When I clutch the roses too hard

When too heavy to be lift I be

But it is worth the stings of the thorns

To be a rose-clad, glittering faerie

To then be fully free of mourns

It is worth to not always rise

To sometimes be left on the ground

Far beneath the freedom of the sky

To be a rose-clad, glittering faerie

And to then no worries carry

~*~

The Bird in the Birdcage

You have no idea

What it is like

To be me

Likewise,

I have no idea

What it is like

To be you

I am tethered inside my own, clustered mind

And I am afraid that if I ever were to leave

I would not find my way back

Into this clustered mind of mine

Maybe you feel the same

Or maybe you feel comfortable where you are

In your mind

Perhaps you are not tethered to yours

Perhaps it is not clustered

In which case, I wish I could be you

To know what it is like

To be where you are

Inside your free mind

As I have never been to such a place

Or perhaps

You do not wish

To let my clustered mind in

As yours is perfectly comfortable

Whilst mine is not

But I will never know

In fact

I have no idea

What it is like

To be you

Likewise,

You have no idea

What it is like

To be me

They say that the eyes are the windows of the soul

They say that the eyes are the windows of the soul

Which is incorrect

Yet, a small truth in it lies.

You see, in the eyes

You can see no soul,

But you can see the dreams.

As people believe

That they are safely concealed

Inside their minds,

They actually live vivid lives

Inside their eyes.

But then again,

What defines a soul

If not its dreams?

So maybe it is true

What they say

When they say that the eyes are the windows of the soul.

The Light Within

There is an old house down by the moor
It has a rumour of being haunted
Perhaps you have heard the story before?

In which case, I shall not bother to tell it
But I have made some interesting observations
Involving a spirit

Now, you might from this have concluded
That I believe to have seen a ghost by the moor
But no, I am not yet quite so deluded

For, you see, it is not a disembodied person
Which has caught my eye;
It is not it's previous inhabitant, Mrs Anderson

No, this house holds
Something quite more extraordinary;
As is told in none of the tales of olds

At night
The whole house will shimmer
With an inward light

For the spirit of the house
Is the house itself
And not the deceased spouse

You might ponder
Why this seemingly simple house
Is filled with such wonder?

That, I cannot answer
Yet, depending on your preferred ideology
There are some suspicions
Some involving ancient, alien technology

Image source

Sunday afternoons with smoke from incense and steam from tea

As the smoke from the incense
Interweave with the steam
Of the newly brewed tea
And the sun sets in the distance,
Emitting an orange light
Which wraps the world in a glowing light
Coordinating with my misty room
I think of no one in particular
For I have no one in particular to think of
Instead I pick down from a shelf
My favourite book,
Open the cover
And fall down through the pages
To the circus in which I wish I could live
Or to space, to distant lands
Where adventures roam everyday
But as I am there,
Just where I want to be,
A sudden, loud bang
Reaches my ears
And I am yanked back from the world of the book
To my dull, ordinary room
Thinking of no one in particular
As the sun disappears beyond the horizon
Leaving the world in darkness
The tea cup stands empty
The incense burnt out.

I cannot produce an adequate title

I try to write,
To create magic
By combining letters
Yet my ability seem lost
The letters drift in front of me
In a blur of my confused mind
As I try to grab them, to form them,
They drift but further away,
Even more concealed in my mind's foggy mist
And I am but left alone,
My wand stolen,
My inability
To practise the magic
Of words
Lasting evermore
Never faltering
Always
Just
Here

If trees could talk

I wonder, if trees could talk, how would that be? Imagine, if you are walking into or simply near a forest, and you hear the trees chatting away.

Would it be bothersome? No, I don't think so. See, just as the whistling of the wind, the twittering of the birds, the sound of a train passing by in distance and so forth, we would be accustomed with the tree's chattering. Never would you walk around in a forest in complete stillness, but you would be surrounded by voices and life.

Of course, that would remove the pleasantness of a quiet and still walk in the forest, but simultaneously it would open up a new, previously unknown dimension. Imagine walking into the forest, sitting down on a big piece of rock, and having a chat with a tree. All the things you could learn, and not only from the tree to whom you are talking; I rest assured that that tree has been talking to that other tree, who in turn has been talking to the third tree, and so on, which might result in you hearing a 200 year old story from Mali.

And meanwhile, in a parallel universe in which trees do talk, parallel-universe me writes a blog entry about how awful, yet rather relaxing, a world in which trees do not talk would be.

How to write "strong", female characters

There are probably plenty of aspiring writers out there in cyberspace, and being an aspiring writer, one can probably use with a couple of nice tips. Therefore, I have completed this list of tips (or, if you wish your piece to be famous, rules) about how to write strong, female characters. Enjoy!

1. Make sure she is rather bad-ass, except when it comes to that one guy (aka the hero*), who makes her change completely, so that suddenly she is oh so weak. It is also important that this guy makes her lose all her bad-assness like *that*. The guy does not necessarily need to have as passionate, or even any at all, feelings for her; in fact, it makes him cooler if he does not.
2. Do not give her a proper personality. She only needs to consist of her bad-assness and passionate love for the hero.
3. This bad-assness must consist of at least 90% sexiness. Ergo, her only power must be to be able to flirt with various male characters (I mean, her flirting with a female would imply some sort of bi-, pan- or homosexuality and that is something we simply can not have).
4. The previous point implies that, naturally, she has to follow media's idea about what "being sexy" means.
5. Whenever she has a conversation with another female, it has to be about one/some of the male character/-s.
6. She must not do anything for her own sake. Remember, it is all about the hero.
7. Giving her a name is not a high priority. The hero could always simply call her "babe", "sexy" and so forth.
8. If you do give her a name, at least make her the only female character with a name.
9. She has to be naked at least once (preferably more than once though).
10. When she is not naked, make sure her clothes are revealing (as oppose to the hero, who should be properly dressed at all times).

*Note about the hero: Make sure that the hero is a male. A female hero would completely brake the norm and it just would not be sane (again, remember what I wrote about bi-, pan- and homosexuality).

There are, of course, plenty of other things (/rules) to have in mind when writing strong, female characters, but I hope that this small guide helped you in some measure. Good luck with your writing!

This sarcastic entry has been brought to you by Hedda, aka panphobic.