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I have no idea ... I don t really know what I plan to write about...i think it may vary on my mood...Sometimes it could be autobiographical ,other times it could be random thinking...what i know is that it won t be updated often...


Liber Chronicarum
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Very Silly Poetry of the Ungifted .
This contains some poetry of mine , which I know , is truly horrible. But I put it here for safe-keping . And so that I can come back, read it , and then laugh . There are both poems in english and french .I don t want to translate the french poems because it will lose all the stylistics effects I tried to work on . So ...deal with it ? whee

I don t know what this could be called , but it sprouted this morning in my head :
............................
Paris , 1848 .

Et le crane se fendit
Sur l' asphalte ravit .
Le myrmidon sourit
De mes sens engourdis.
............................


Then ! oh ! the beginning of lyrics for one of my songs (BEWARE ! EXTREMELY CHEESY 8D !Read at your own risks ! ) :

............................................
Someday the dream will end ,
And I will be walking alone...
Did the stars looked so brilliant ?
I don t remember .

My heart aches , I don t want
To get rid of this burning feeling ...
When I close our book ,
Black butterflies come flying.

The dream has ended .

Was snow ever like angels feathers ?
Or is it this feeling the taste of heaven ?
There is just someone that I don t want to forget
In this endless dream.
..............................................

Told you so. It was cheesy . Whatever .
Oh ? You want another one ? Here you go :
...............................
Lagon de larmes,
Courant le long de l' abysse ,
Esprit dilué par la peur ,
Grande est ma tristesse , grand est mon espoir.

Le rire clair n' est qu' un souvenir
Et lente est la plainte
Du crépuscule éternel .
J' attends le jour.

Coeur glacé dans la neige figée
L ' écho de l' avenir
Court devant moi,et
Je tends la main .

Vers l' invisible .
Longue nuit où l' orphelin pleure ,
Les yeux du loup brillent
Et retiennent le passé . Douleur .
.....................................................

Oh , and in the 'Show some Creativity' Thread of the Wg , I couln t help but write on Daffodil ' s character , a 'little faun that will sing you a song for a gold coin ' . As you can guess , the leopard characters are somehow inspired from my OC , Sierrus . Here it is :

The fable of a greedy faun Or how to think before speaking gravely.


Music was his daily passion
A little faun fresh and plump
That had played for all coronations
Since his precious harp he could hump.


But the kind little herbivore
Never restrained by a harness
Had one default that could devour
His kind little soul : greediness .

When he played before a king ,
'Gold' was the answer of the youngling ,
When he played before a pauper,
He would eat to his only butter .

Gradually , the faun matured,
And in many shady taverns ,
'Power' was the name uttered ,
And to blood he came from ferns.

He was invited to a kingdom,
Revolution there was a master
Where people lived martyrdom ,
Land of the noble snow panthers .

The king , shut in his palace ,
Lamented over his son s illness
First born without malice
Cursed by the Snow Priestess.

'Heal him through your music ' he asked
'Give me something of equal value'
'The cadet will be yours ' he implored
And in his eyes was a red hue .

The prince healed .

His bloodlust rotating like an helix
When his greediness was almighty
The faun readied his calix.
But...He wasn t dead really ?

The second-born, his father in tow
Came to meet his new master
And ,worse than dying ,his vow
Was to give up his name and banner .

Dumbfounded ,that s how the troubadour
Learned about honor s death and how to play
Around one s words.Double-dedged ,
They gave him a new apprentice.



The Big Book Of Gaian Myths ,Volume II,page 47.




 
 
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