Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Homage to Kiera's Echo

I could feel myself dying. The firmness and clarity of the world slowly ebbed away, all color, all joy, all substance slowly condensing into only my love, Narcissus, who reclined at the edge of the pool. He was weak now as well, his once sun kissed skin clung to his sharp cheekbones, taking on the pallor of those who neither slept nor ate. In the beginning he would plunge his arms outstretched into the depths, attempting to embrace his godlike visage reflected there. Now his perfect fingertips limply hovered above the water, not daring to disturb the glassy surface lest the slightly ragged, yet all consumingly beautiful youth portrayed there disappear forever.

Now and then I felt the cool palm of the goddess lightly rest on my forehead, sometimes the soft delicate touch of a child, other times the firm callused hands of the women she could become. I knew she was keeping me alive somehow, forcing me to absorb some of the nature of the forest that sustained me, but even she could not permanently tether me to this life. I cared not for such things. In piercing my heart, Eros's arrow may have well pinned me to the ground. I was content to remain here, in completely blissful agony, absorbed in the soft curve of Narcissus's neck, the sharp angle of his jaw, his parted lips and now shallow breath.

The other one used to come as well. She would sit a ways from us twirling her long golden hair and emitting peals of (what in any lesser being) could be considered raccus laughter. She would exclaim to her cohort as they fluttered around her, buffing her nails, braiding her hair, and angling mirrors so that she could also observe her ever subtly changing and flawless facade that we were "Just so perfectly tragic"! If Narcissus completely sapped of all strength from hunger ever unattractively flopped to one side she would order one of her attendants to arrange his form more gracefully, or to fuss with my now ragged dress, and strew the both of us with fresh flowers, removing the decaying remains of the ones from her last visit to an ungainly heap out of sight.

On one of her visits, she too had disturbed me, cupping my chin in a perfectly manicured hand, tilting my head from side to side. "See darling! Didn't I tell you it would all be worth it! Aren't you just so exquisitely grateful to be part of such a heartbreaking and perfect tale! We'll all be gossiping about this one for ages. Vain Narcissus and a stupid unrequited little Echo".

At her touch, I was filled with an all consuming rage. Not from her mocking, but because she had diverted my gaze from my love, if only for a second. I summoned up a rare burst of will, the small part of me that existed before Narcissus (what a ridiculous thought!) snapping my head away and snarling at the perfectly composed golden being. Her hand was back like a vice, her face transformed by anger, a terrifying cold beauty that struck fear through even my ridiculously occupied heart. I was transfixed. Her eyes were old, so so so very old. And cold. And heartless. We forget sometimes, mortals and gods alike, that Aphrodite was one of the first. Distracted by her beauty, and complete lack of any responsibility ( she's the only goddess with only one dominion!) we forget that she's from a completely different generation. Aphrodite was born of Uranus, before Zeus, before the Titans. She is ancient, and all the more powerful for it....

(Sorry Kiera, couldn't resist! Will finish later)

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

A Childish Apology - A Poem on 'regrets'

My mother told me to apologize to you,
These words are things I’d rather not say,
But here I am, at your door,
Saying sorry for what I did that day.

I regret pouring my juice on you,
Even though you were being a brat.
I regret tugging on your hair,
After you called me fat.

I regret coloring on your picture,
Even after you colored on mine.
I regret putting mud in your shoes,
After you lied about ‘everything being fine’

I regret yelling at you,
Even after you stepped on my sandcastle.
I regret refusing to talk to you,
Because you are really quite a hassle.

I regret storming out of the room,

After you blamed your shenanigans on me.
I regret stepping on your foot,
After you made fun of me.

I regret trying to ignore you,
Because it only made it worse.
I regret kicking you in the shin,
After you poured ink into my purse.

Really, I think you are rather wicked,
I don’t want to be near you at all,
But I’m being the bigger person,
And paying you a call.

The one thing I don’t regret at all,
Even though our relationship is a chore,
Is that right after I apologized,
I snuck a tarantula through your door.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

"The Cow Goes Moo" :)

When I was a child, I knew a secret. Something I assumed nobody else was smart enough to figure out. You see, there was a cow in the supermarket. Grocery shopping is an unfortunate chore for any youngster, and I was no different. Walking around in seemingly pointless directions, having my suggestions (mostly of sweets or candy) constantly denied, and I wasn’t even able to take the cart for the occasional joyride up and down the aisles! All in all, a dead boring waste of time (at this point in my life, I didn’t care to make the connection between the food in the store and the food in my stomach).

But one day, I discovered an abnormality that refused to be ignored. As my father rolled the cart to a gentle stop in the milk aisle, he turned the other way to choose between two different brands of cheddar cheese. I settled down for a wait, (as my father, the ultimate frugal shopper, took hours to compare prices and quality) rocking in place and looking around absent-mindedly. That was when I heard it. A sudden and unexpected noise had ripped through the silence of the moment like my kiddie-scissors through wrapping paper, leaving an intoxicating stillness in its wake.

Entranced, I moved closer to the wall of milk, concentrating on my latest discovery. “Moo.” This simple onomatopoeia left an incredible conundrum for my self-proclaimed dizzying intellect. I thought for a moment, coming up with an extremely scientific conclusion. It was elementary, that of course, there was a cow behind the milk aisle. I had been in the waiting room of the doctor’s office long enough to know that ‘the cow goes moo.’ As no other being I knew of made that particular noise, it was simple to put 2 and 2 together and say that there was a cow in our midst. Immediately after coming to this conclusion, I was overwhelmed with pity. That poor cow, alone with no cow-friends to play with. What an unfortunate situation. Suddenly filled with a sense of comradery (for I was devastatingly bored as well), I ‘moo’ed back, to let the cow know that it was not alone.

This is what I miss most about being a child, what I wish I could have back now that I have changed. Those simple senses of imagination and childish naivety, they make the world a more interesting place to live in. Nowadays, whenever I walk into Foodtown, and hear that tinny old speaker moo at me, I smile. For I have a new secret. Every now and then, I still moo back at the milk. You never know, perhaps my child self was smarter than she appeared.

Monday, March 21, 2011

If I Were In the Movies

If Put Into the Movies . . . by Kiera Wolfe

A person often wonders, how their life would go,
If they lived inside a movie, the pictures, or TV show.
Well, I’ve done some speculation and it just goes to prove,
Your thoughts go in some crazy directions, once you’re in the groove.

A chick flick comes to mind of course, I know what I would be,
The witty best friend, the comic relief, helpful and rather artsy.
In a zombie movie I’m not too confident, my chances could offend,
I would probably turn right after the cheerleader, way before the end.

If placed inside a drama, you might not want me on the staff,
I often cannot watch something so ridiculous without a single laugh.
A cop show sounds like a good time, yes it looks rather fun,
But I don’t know of anyone that would just hand me a gun.

If we are talking franchises, I will have to intervene,
For in Star Wars, I already know my light saber would be green
If put in Harry Potter, I’d quickly befriend Loony Luna,
If I’m stuck inside The Office, I’d hang with Pam and Tuna.

A musical? Of course I’d participate, and probably have a blast,
But I feel that after High School Musical, that genre has blown past.
A western would be hilarious; if I get to ride a horse,
Really anything would be cool, if I was in it of course!