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Poems & Words
I feel so attacked right now...
"You want a love that consumes you, you want passion, and adventure, and even a little danger"
-Damon Salvatore S3 E22
do they remember me...
“ The first boy I loved is thousands of miles away on a stage-
strumming his base
just like the day I knew I loved him.
The first girl I kissed as she held my hips
had blond hair and pretty eyes. I don’t remember her name but-
I remember how she felt dancing in a Chicago club.
The first time I promised the world to someone,
they were dressed as a pretty fairy. They put their hand in my back pocket and I pushed them up against a wall my tongue tracing their lips.
The first time I had sex it was with the tallest ,darkest, most handsome guy you could imagine,
in the back seat of a parked car on a dark street. If I close my eyes in the quiet I can still hear his accent as a whisper in my ears.
I guess-
I wonder not how they're doing, or even where some are now,
really only if they remember me the way I think of them...”
Poems & Words
Casey at the Bat
ERNEST LAWRENCE THAYER
A Ballad of the Republic, Sung in the Year 1888
“The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We’d put up even money now with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey’s getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey’s manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile on Casey’s face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt ’twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Casey’s eye, a sneer curled Casey’s lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
“That ain’t my style,” said Casey. “Strike one,” the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
“Kill him! Kill the umpire!” shouted some one on the stand;
And it’s likely they’d have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey’s visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the spheroid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, “Strike two.”
“Fraud!” cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.”
source: poetryfoundation.org
Quotable – Susan Dennard
Read more about the author here
I don’t believe i will ever pick typing over writing with a pencil
Poems & Words
Do you know of any middle grade books with a main character who identifies as bi on page other than Star Crossed and The Trouble with Robots, or are these the only two that exist? I'm really happy to see more queer MG books being published, but there still seems to be frustratingly little bi rep.
Drum Roll, Please by Lisa Jenn Bigelow and the upcoming Lulu Sinagtala and the Tagalog Gods by Gail D. Villanueva, and not the main character, but a major character in Small Town Pride by Phil Stamper. I haven't read Camp Quiltbag by Nicole Melleby and AJ Sass, but I would guess the word appears on the page in it just based on the premise of the book, and there's definitely bi rep in the anthology This is Our Rainbow. I'll also mention Fight + Flight by Jules Machias for pan rep.
I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you're able to write loads & make lots of progress <3
"Would You Come Home"
I don’t see enough of this moment and its by far one of my favorite in Roswell New Mexico. A great song is at its core pure poetry and this is a great song that captures queer love and the adversity it often has to overcome.
Roswell New Mexico Season 2 Episode 13
“My father taught me home is where the hurt is So I built a fortress, where I lived alone He said ships were never meant to have a harbor So I've worn this armor, I've fought and flown I was raised a soldier Put my weapons down to hold you Is a kiss an act of war I just tried to keep you warm Even though I couldn't stay No you never looked away Now I can't look away
Would you meet me in the middle Could we both stop keeping score There's a battle I must fight alone It's you I'm fighting for If I call off the battalion Break my walls down stone by stone Tear down my defenses I can build your heart a home And if I did Would you come home
Together we could quiet all the noises Drown out the voices, play our own song Boys becoming men under the desert sky But something dark inside said it was wrong I was raised a soldier Put my weapons down to hold you Is a kiss an act of war I just tried to keep you warm Even though I couldn't stay No you never looked away Now I won't look away
Would you meet me in the middle Could we both stop keeping score There's a battle I must fight alone It's you I'm fighting for If I call off the battalion Break my walls down stone by stone Tear down my defenses I can build your heart a home And if I did Would you come home
I still find my fathers shrapnel Buried beneath my skin But I've begun to heal in all the places your hands have been Would you meet me in the middle Could we both stop keeping score There's a battle I must fight alone It's you I'm fighting for If I call off the battalion Break my walls down stone by stone Tear down my defenses I can build your heart a home And if I did Would you come home
Wish I found the words when we were seventeen You were the best of me You are the best of me “
My cartoon for yesterday's @guardian. p.s. my new book of literary cartoons is out soon: https://tomgauld.com/comic-books-v2
My skin is a well-read book. Worn, seen, felt, marked, coffee stained.
unfinished poems