Was I there in your arms? Or someplace unfamiliar? Let the world slow down. Let me break my crown. Because you wrought it from guilt, my dear, forged with jewels made of tears.
I am bad at hiding. If you are my friend, you might recognize me. For that, I apologize.
You may call me anything you like. I enjoy and encourage nicknames. But if you need a name, Mica works.
If you would like me to write something for you, you can request it, and I will if I can. It may not be immediately. But I will try.
A warning, my descriptions can sometimes be graphic, or a little violent. It is usually metaphorical, though, don't worry.
I like both storm and calm. Chaos and comfort. I enjoy things that invoke thought, or creativity. I love hugs, snuggles, animals (especially dragons and cats), tea, fiction, and poetry.
Please do not bring up politics here. It's not that I don't care. But I've anguished myself enough over them and honestly, I need a break.
Never assume hostility! It was probably an accident. My tone comes across weird sometimes.
Tags:
#storm's eye - things that strike me, and I'd like to come back to.
#mica speaks - anything original, by me.
#mica reblogs - empty reblogs.
#mica elaborates - reblogs that are not empty.
#mica rambles - I have rambled.
#mica rhymes - my poetry.
#mika doodles - my art.
#mika's music - my favorite songs.
#mica recites - my favorite poems or stories.
#mika inquires - I ask questions.
#mika responds - I answer questions.
Credit for the image goes to @poetryforall.
My wonderful mutuals:
@kimu-dem - Keeper of comfort.
@thatrando13 - The wanderer.
@carrotsinnovember - A gentle friend.
@hersurvival - Blanket fort against thunder and snowstorms.
@caustic-splines - Writer of old love letters.
@abiethewizardduck
@randomshowerpoems - The wise wordsmith.
@poemsofanentomologist
@galaxys-universe
@literaryvein - The bright storm outside.
@same-skies
These titles can always change, as I know you better. If you'd like me to use a different one I certainly can.
Some of my favorite songs are;
One Day You Will Fly Too, by Aimee Carty,
Come Along, Does the Swallow Dream of Flying?, Egg and Soldiers, Pelicans We, Half Past Three, Run, and Linger Longer, by Cosmo Sheldrake,
Glow in the Dark by Vian Izak,
Rush of Life, My Neighbor's Car Alarm, Desire, and Rain, by Tony Ann. (Classical.)
Experience, Fly, and Eros, by Ludovico Einaudi. (Classical.)
Ilomilo by Billie Eilish,
Two, Sun, Eight, and Light by Sleeping at Last,
Big Black Car and San Luis by Gregory Alan Isakov,
Passing Through by Kaden MacKay,
The Mountain Song, Be Nobody, and Better is the End, by TopHouse,
Changing Days, Irish Eyes, I Can Never Give my Heart, and Rocket, by Rose Betts,
The Sound of Silence, by Simon and Garfunkel,
Walking in the Air, Time, Orinoco Flow, and Carol of the Bells, by Libera,
And many more.
Some of my favorite poems are;
Tug'o'War of Heartstrings, The Night Sky, Together, With a Window Between, A Heavy Wait/Weight, A Veil Not Yet There, Sharks in a Zoo, A Faustian Deal, Denial, The Voice of a Loved One, Explosions, Tribute to the Ocean, The Vast Expanse of the Ocean, Nurturing, Stalagmites in my Brain, and How Can I Put Those Boxes Away? by The Shower Poet,
Fire and Ice, and Walking by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost,
The Sunshine Kid, Paper People, and 59, by Harry Baker,
The Spider, by Robert P. Tristam Coffin,
Run With You, by Atlas,
A Litany, by Gregory Orr,
Landscape with a Blur of Conquerors, and Details of the Woods, by Richard Silken.
And many more.
Some of my favorite books are;
The Chronicles of Narnia, by C. S. Lewis,
Breadcrumbs, by Anne Ursu,
Ella Minnow Pea, by Mark Dunn,
Holes, Wayside School, Small Steps, and There's a Boy in the Girl's Bathroom, by Lois Sachar.
Hoot, Scat, Flush, and Chomp, by Carl Hiaasen.
Where the Mountain Meets the Moon, Starry River of the Sky, and When the Sea Turned to Silver, by Grace Lin.
And oh, so very many more.
Poems I have written;
Teach Me, Silent Serenade, Space Can Die, Weak Resolve, Boundaries Drawn, The Candle, Vacuum, One Pace, Adventure With Me, Stagnant, Workaholic, Sirens Can Cry, Dreamt of Loss, The Chalkboard, Shush, and many more to come.
Once was a girl, who would talk to herself. Stories, tales, thoughts in passing, of the past, future, of the sky and leaves, wind and breeze, of storm and calm. She longed to speak in a cadence. One to soothe. To heal. Doesn't everyone want that, to heal? To be somebody to someone, to have a voice like an anchor, eyes like a vice, that soften, that go warm like a bird's shelter?
Storm seeks calm. Calm seeks storm. They find a balance. But never, never do they stay still. She couldn't stay still. Her mind was a hurricane. And sometimes a breeze, sometimes a song to put you at ease, and sometimes, tight, coiled like a spring.
The calm wasn't who she was. Nor was she as much of the storm as she thought she was. Dear, she was a fire. She'd dim, and grow brighter. Her voice would get high when excited, she'd smile. Her embers couldn't rest. She'd smoulder. Then big stewing pots would bubble over. She'd speak in paragraphs, eyes like beacons, stumbling over words and not always making sense...
But it was beautiful. She loved, she loved deeply. She wanted to be loved, too. And she was. But when the smoke gets high, water and frost meeting that bright smile all too many times, it blurs out the hands, hearts, the words reaching, seeking...
She was silenced. Of course, the embers still burned. But the very things she stifled were the things she was beloved for. And she couldn't hear them.
But slowly, wet wood dries, my dear. You can't always cry. Time passes by. Wounds heal, scars fade, even when clouds pass over the stars. She was stronger than that.
She learned again to love. And though she had times she couldn't muster the songs, the words, the strength to hold on so tight, she began to heal.
Please, my dear, have patience. She is still healing.
Burnout is a dangerous thing. If you are stuck it never eases, never ceases. And things that brought you peace are no less, then, but grievous. It feels like Sisyphus himself is in charge of pulling you out of that rut. My dear, he can't.
The world moves so fast... I can't help but be dizzy. The facts and the future, like stones, whizzing, past my head, I bustle, I catch them, I'm busy...
The earth turns fast but not as fast as my head. Live, die. Fireflies. On my deathbed. I crave a rest, but I get anger instead. For injustice, for fury, the memories I shed...
Give my hands to the stars, fire for every digit. They fall from the sky when in darkness I fidget. Tear through the clouds, but then cry when I can't fix it. My brain is a void and...
"You're too late to stop me Hero. All of the funds that I've stolen and embezzled have already been distributed to major charity networks all across the globe. The largest Diamond in the world? Already liquidated to help children with Cancer." The villain coughed, bloodied by the Hero's hands.
in the long, smoky, delicious August evenings when the white moths sailed over the tansy plantation and the golden twilight faded into dusk and purple over the green slopes beyond and fireflies lighted their goblin torches by the pond.
Ancardian blunt weaponry--for the homebrew setting!
Probably the most ubiquitous weapon, both for warfare and non-warfare uses, throughout history. Often mischaracterized as a "primitive" and "brutish" weapon, a simple club or bludgeon is the lowest cost to highest effect melee weapon for short-range, far better in this comparison than any sword. While certainly a lot of "quickly/cheaply banged up" clubs and the like exist throughout this setting, the ones made with skill and aesthetic in mind are shown here (and again, there's a lot of real-world cultural influence, especially of the higher-tier bludgeoning weapons made throughout ancient and medieval Africa, the Americas, and East Asia). Some of them are very function-oriented, while others have clearly been made with the same attention to detail and dual decoration/function ideals as a swordsmith does.
