:(
My bestest tumblr friend has deactivated. She's the reason I found tumblr and made a blog. (And, sadly, the reason I subject you to my crappy poetry).
Will miss you, lafonna.

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:(
My bestest tumblr friend has deactivated. She's the reason I found tumblr and made a blog. (And, sadly, the reason I subject you to my crappy poetry).
Will miss you, lafonna.
you glow so brightly
if you shone, the sun would fade
and one day you will.
---
I think this is the first serious thing I've ever written for someone else, and I hope she sees it because it's the truth.
Where is Trystus, where is heeeeeeeeeee?
Natalie, what have you done to the poor man?
The Tenth Muse
The Tenth Muse
My muse is not one of the nine nubile daughters of Mnemosyne in diaphanous nightshifts with names that linger in the air like scent of jasmine or magnolia on Mediterranean nights. Nor was any supple son of Zeus appointed to pollinate my ear with poppy dust or whispers of sea-spray. My muse lands with a thud like a sack of potatoes. He has no aura. The things he grunts are things I’d rather not hear. His attitude is ‘Take it or leave it, that’s the way it is’, drumming his fingers on an empty pan by way of music. If I were a man I would enjoy such grace and favour, tuning my fork to Terpsichore’s lyre, instead of having to cope with this dense late-invented eunuch with no more pedigree than the Incredible Hulk, who can’t play a note and keeps repeating ‘Women haven’t got the knack’ in my most delicately strung and scented ear.
~Sylvia Kantaris
My lovely lafonna understands my irritation with the 'muse'. This poem sums it up brilliantly.
Replies to quite a few of you
mademoisellechapeau replied to your post: Us
Lunacy. Contains ‘luna’ and it’s just as beautiful as her and the reflection in the sky of a night. ;)
I ... still don;t know what to say to this, my lovely Mademoiselle, but merci beaucoup
dimasmoonbeams replied to your post: Sunday truths
In best Who-from-Horton-Hears-a-Who voice: I am here, I am here, I am here!
You say that, Mr Sundae Machete, but your appearances are ever fleeting on Sunday. Like ice-cream, you quickly melt.
lafonna replied to your post: Sunday truths
Bahahaha! Poor Trystus can’t hide in peace.
He can't run and he can't hide - not from us!
dimasmoonbeams replied to your post: ahhhaah, 'sunday truths' :) i love trystan's...
It was probably me in a fit of shameless self-promotion. Only it wasn’t. :)
Hmmm, then who could it be? Who could it be? *ponders*
roggyscanvas replied to your post: Aberration
ENID BLYTON!
Good old Enid and her Malory Towers books and tomboy George.
theowlet replied to your post: Aberration
sad and gorgeous and I can’t quite find the words for this
Thank you.
Sunday truths
They seek him here they seek him there The tumblr two seek him everywhere.
But on Sundays It doth appear Trystanmoonbeams is never here
irrelevanceisbliss replied to your post: I have also seen the wind
Beautiful.
lafonna replied to your post: I have also seen the wind
I can find myself in these words.
Thanks so much ladies! I appreciate your comments. <3
Cava Supernova
The words were there before me. ‘You are my brightest star’ I grinned, laughter writ on my face. Inspiration finally struck, after days of hopeless apathy the spark whipped frozen fingers and numbed thoughts into a frenzy of fire. Ideas shaped their translucence and words weaved their tendrils around a mind long dulled into apathy.
“Bright stars are those which burn through the sky. Bright stars are luminescent in their utter glory. Bright stars are close to supernova, hightailing to comets, rendering all life oblivion.”
But this is no champagne flurry. This is not a star scorching with a tail of fire behind your wake. There are no glittering tears studding the black velvet night, or diamonds glistening their sorrow.
The brightest star is Sirius So ...
You callin’ me a dog, bitch?
(Backstory. The lovely lafonna said I was a bright star. I got rather excited and inspired thinking about supernovas and phrases like 'dying generations at their song' (WB Yeats) and then decided to check my facts . . . )