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 Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2004 12:18 pm
DO NOT POST UNLESS YOU ARE TOSHIHIKO. Welcome to the scrapbook of Absalom. This message thread is for the simple purpose of allowing Toshihiko to record information and keep photographs and such of his Elemental Spirit child, Absalom. Please be mindful and do not post in this thread unless you have been given explicit permission by Toshihiko. Are you interested in discovering just who or what an Elemental Spirit is? You can visit the shop!
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 2:02 pm
Quote:
1. Introductory Post
2. Index
3. The Beginnning
4. Absalom
5. Toshihiko
6. The Children
7. Growth
8. Story
9. Additional Gallery
10. Poetry
11. Pets
12. Items
13. Other
14. ...
15. ...
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 2:05 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 2:06 pm
Quote: Name: Absalom
Stage: Young child
Gender: Male
Position in Village: Young child
In Care of: Toshihiko
Faith: Undecided
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 2:11 pm
Quote: Name: Toshihiko (Toshi)
Age: 27 (approaching 30 at warp speed)
Gender: Male
Position in Village: Teacher
Guardian of: Absalom, Earth Fae
Faith: Christianity
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 2:19 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 4:32 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 6:10 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 6:13 pm
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 6:16 pm
Quote:
"Mushrooms"
Margaret Atwood
In this moist season,
mist on the lake and thunder
afternoons in the distance
they ooze up through the earth
during the night,
like bubbles, like tiny
bright red balloons
filling with water;
a sound below sound, the thumbs of rubber
gloves turned softly inside out.
In the mornings, there is the leaf mold
starred with nipples,
with cool white fishgills,
leathery purple brains,
fist-sized suns dulled to the colors of embers,
poisonous moons, pale yellow.
Where do they come from?
For each thunderstorm that travels
overhead there's another storm
that moves parallel in the ground.
Struck lightning where they meet.
Underfoot there's a cloud of rootlets,
shed hairs or a bundle of loose threads
blown slowly through the midsoil.
These are their flowers, these fingers
reaching through the darkness into the sky,
these eyeblinks
that burst and powder the air with spores.
They feed in shade, on halfleaves
as they return to water,
on slowly melting logs,
deadwood. They glow
in the dark sometimes. They taste
of rotten meat or cloves
or cooking steak or bruised
lips or new snow,
It isn't only
for food I hunt them
but for the hunt and because
they smell of death and the waxy
skins of newborn,
flesh into earth into flesh.
Here is the handful
of shadow I have brought back to you:
this decay, this hope, this mouth-
ful of dirt, this poetry.
Quote:
"Mushrooms"
Sylvia Plath
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
Quote:
"If"
Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
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Posted: Mon Apr 11, 2005 6:18 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 27, 2005 7:58 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 27, 2005 8:51 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 27, 2005 8:53 pm
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Posted: Wed Apr 27, 2005 8:54 pm
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