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Story coming in a bit... [14 Apr 2005|12:31am]
[ mood | peaceful ]

I've decided to post a poem instead of my usual installment of Ilomia Dunhirea. More of my poetry needs to get off my harddrive. ;)

Anyway, this one is called "Haencam". Haencam (pronounced HINE-cam) is the Aeniithian Lady of Music (specifically sorrowful or haunting music, as the Gotevians had two words for music, one being for sad music and one for joyful).

This was written last fall, I believe.


Hear the lute,
Of Haencam,
Singing mournfully,
For a dead lover
Drowned in the sea,
Swallowed by the white waves.
See the moaning surf leap.
And a tear may be given
To the tragic harp’s notes,
Of burned cities under the night,
Of the devoured queen
In the red inferno,
Terrors told,
And terrors felt.
Sweet and haunting flute,
Innocent note of a spring bird,
Betrays its promised song-telling,
And sings of a killer,
Murderer of the dawn,
And the flying dirks.
And of justice that was not,
And the woman weeping
By a dying fire.
But spilling night into the sky,
The west-flame cools,
And hence Haencam tells
The listening sprites that gather.
A grey funeral in the fall rains,
Marks the end of a dynasty of the sun.
Now cold brick world, tells Haencam,
Golden strands torn out and taken
To be traded for rubies.
And forest killed and Lady stabbed,
A roar in the North;
All perished in dread and terror.
For Haencam tells
Of that which is,
But haunts like only song.

Tomorrow I will be posting the next section of the second chapter of Ilomia Dunhirea, so check back

2 tales// tell me a story

Ilomia Dunhirea...the latest... [30 Mar 2005|10:16pm]
[ mood | creative ]

Of many odd things.Collapse )

Hey--everyone who is reading this, let me know if you still are interested in actually reading any of the stuff I put here. I know it's long and boring, etc. but if you do regularly read (or at all), please tell me, as I may at some time be doing some narrowing of friends-listage.



4 tales// tell me a story

[16 Nov 2004|05:10am]
[ mood | calm ]

Soft as spring grass,
Warm as the dying embers,
Smoother than love
As it leaves its winter phase.
Like the touch of a petal on my cheek,
The wind that plays in my hair,
Waving the hands of the trees in the sky.
A fingertip drawing near,
And I can feel it before it touches,
Barely there,
The tender winds that hug me,
When the world beats down,
The waters that love me,
When I am alone.
The sun that strokes my hands
When my heart is rained upon.

~Maggie xoxoxo <3

tell me a story

[14 Nov 2004|05:06am]
Yes, I just could not help it. :3

~Maggie xoxoxo <3
1 tale// tell me a story

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