Patt'ring of wings, like cloth o'er silken skin; 
The horses hooves, the rains that seldom came.
He think to himself: will you let me in
to chain the giants in your heavy’d bones.
Within those wan blossoming eyes, one could
View the clouds and the skies - echoes and ex-
Soaring red kites among wire flights and swords
Piercing, but gentle, controlled yet frantic,
Owl-ick, but all the same, a great feline temper of wars.
Give my heart your wings. Free me from my walls. 
I do not pray, Maria, I do not.
As much jailer as the dark, you love me not.
I long to fly with the birds, and now they 
Rest ready in your father’d hand. Can you?
How long, my love, will this glance last
How long, my love, ‘till we are just past.

My Favorite Spellbook:

“The Complete Works of William Shakespeare”

Not only is it full of rhymes (a favorite for spells for many witches) about every subject under the sun, but it’s also written in iambic pentameter. For those who don’t know, iambic pentameter is a way of organizing syllables in a line of poetry. I won’t get into the nitty-gritty of it, but basically when you write it out you end up with a beat that goes just like a human heartbeat. To me, this makes the spells more powerful, and it makes it easier to get myself into a bit of a trance with them; I actually sing the fairies’ lullaby from A Midsummer Nights Dream every night in my head until I fall asleep.

There are multiple Shakespeare plays that include spells already, such as A Midsummer Nights Dream, Macbeth, and The Tempest. But there are many other monologues, lines, and even sonnets that lend themselves perfectly to spellcraft!


Solange - Lovers in the Parking Lot

I am kind of fascinated by this song, especially the rhythm in which she sings the verses.  At first I thought it was just catchy, but after further analysis I realized that it is almost entirely iambic.  As follows:

(audible breath) Left your heart behind when I laid eyes and said I’m up and done
The young just live and don’t look back or wait for anyone

I couldn’t help but think of a certain phrase of Shakespeare (because who doesn’t think of him with iambs) from Romeo and Juliet (I don’t know why this particular phrase, but it works in my head) that I can imagine her singing in this rhythm (I have altered the line breaks to fit her pattern since her song is not in pentameter):

O, be some other name! What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo

You have to imagine the words being spoken at the same speed as her as well, with the second lines delivery being slightly faster, with a slightly different cadence.

After this, of course, Solange changes up her rhythm for a few lines before returning to such a steady, iambic rhythm.  Looking at Shakespeare, the lines could be edited to fit her rhythm, but I just liked the way they seem to fit together.  I like the idea of a Shakespearean play being done in the style of this song and what she does on her EP.

Wrote a Valentine's poem while working retail at 10pm

I love to help out handsome guys
With big, brown beards
And bright, blue eyes.
I catch their gaze and find a prize
With whom I’d spend my life.

Undressing him inside my mind,
His big, brown beard
Entwines with mine…
My daydream halts as I help find
Some chocolates for his wife.

I do not want to be the kind of friend
who only calls you with a new request.
I want to be a friend you can depend
on, one who’ll help you be and feel your best.
I want your love and trust to be deserved;
I want your compliments to be the truth;
I want your health and happiness preserved;
I want to look back later at our youth
and feel all warm and fuzzy thinking of
the friendship we have shared however long,
and know that I’ve done justice to a love
that kept me right when so much else was wrong.
So, please, if there is anything you need,
don’t hesitate to ask as much of me.
—  “Unsung”
After the Storm

foreboding dark clouds roll on through her eyes
    oppressive shadows flicker ‘cross her face
the calm before the storm I would surmise
     will soon give way as rain clouds fill the space

the floodgates of her mournful eyes will break
     in salty raindrops falling from above
a streaking rambling trail on cheeks they make
     the sadness welling in her soul of love

but just as suddenly as it appeared
    the troubled look has passed - a smile breaks through
with beaming countenance my heart endeared  
     her cloudless eyes now brightly shine anew

I  know the reason for this sudden change     
twas but the softest kiss we did exchange

These damn musical theatre kids are always in the lounge

It’s a student lounge. I’m trying to lounge. Calm your asses down with that singing. If I could get wifi anywhere else, I would. But until then, I’m like 

But these bitches don’t know what quiet is, so I have to repeat myself in some kind of simple pattern until they get it.

But they don’t understand anything not set to iambic pentameter. 

Bastion, or I Wish This Were Actually About Somebody

It is like the Infinite Architect
Spent all his energy on your blueprint.
With perfect revetment and parapet,
All lines loophole and form a carotid.

I spy your dog-legged geometries,
Coming full circle at a single cusp,
Your outer walls are beautiful chemise,
Not besmirched by weapons nor by Time’s rust.

And on the inside, with arch after arch
To walk through just to sit in the great hall,
I’d lead no less than all my men to march
For a tiny glimpse of your corniced walls.

You’ve proven how mighty your fortress is,
Now I implore you, let down your drawbridge.

Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time, I wrote things that people would read.

I would write for newspapers. I would write for classes. I would write horrible fanfiction for LiveJournal groups and The Pit of Voles and Gaia and anyplace online that would have me.

Now I write for my job, but nothing that means anything, nothing of substance.

What good is it to write if you can’t even use the word “obliterate” in the details? I miss my iambic, my euphemism, my personification. I wrote a whole case summary in as an alliterative-running-trochee just to see if I could do it. I find synonyms for words like “short;” “explain;” and “said.” I turned off every spelling and grammar aid on my work PC and I still can’t fight this feeling that I am losing every bit of writing prowess I ever might have claimed to be in my possession.

I am drawing again. But I need to start writing again.

Soooo…should I write more fanfiction?? ~:D

An Ode to 2011 (by me)

Inspired young who shape magnific ends

Go forth to meet their journeys, still untold.

And while they render tears from loyal friends,

Their mentors sob, emotions uncontrolled. 

The clouds which swept across the field in threat

Were shone upon by God’s majestic light.

Expected rain contained till gath’ring’s end

Has shown that good shall stand to win the fight. 

A mesh of blue and gold that prospers forth,

This class of great integrity and strife,

Must march unto these years of brilliant worth

And strain to live the mighty wolv’rine life. 

A class so unified in selfless heart

Now learns that story’s end is but its start.


I think of all the things we never shared
and memories that we have never made
no quiet moment when our souls we bared
beneath the starry skies we never laid

no warm wet kisses of a long goodbye
no sweet embrace upon a safe return
we never shared a soft contented sigh
nor felt the flaming fire of passion burn

but though we may have missed so many things
and unfulfilled our dreams we never caught
my broken heart with sorrow always sings
declares the truth for which it should have fought

with tear-filled eyes I share why I am sad
you are the best thing that I never had


So roughly a million years ago I said I’d do a crash course in how to scan Shakespeare. Today’s that day.

We’re going to use Constance’s speech from the opening scene of Act III of King John. Not Shakespeare’s most popular play but a hell of a speech and a hell of lady and I like it and this is my blog and I do what I want. 

Anyway, here’s the text. Sorry you have to cope with my handwriting, but one of the best ways to learn a speech is to write it out long-hand, kind of like Umbridge’s demon quill. When your hand is spasming in pain that shit will stick with you. But if you can’t read my writing I won’t be surprised and you can find a more legible text here.

Keep reading

Robert Frost, a poet, once wrote....

“that sometimes trying to write poetry outside of "iambic pentameter” is like driving “without a steering wheel.”“

Well Mr. Frost… now days, trying to write with iambic pentameter is like trying to drive with the steering lock still on. Good day Robert.