Estelore's Poetry

[zaprowsdower]

Iechyd da!

[Estelore]

Unwedd , da hiachâd atat!

[Estelore]

This post is officially titled "If I Weren't Obsessed With Wakko Warner".



This chick looks a LOT like me, just with shorter hair. The colours are all perfect, hair, skin, and eyes.



Rain makes lovely music.



There is an entire army of these little guys inside my brain.


Teehee!


This one says it all.



Me = book addict.



One that celebrates folks like me.


Okay, I laughed for a solid 5 minutes after reading this one.


Last but not least, one that could apply to ANYONE in RAF:

[Estelore]

MARY-SUE MUST DIEEE!!!

[Estelore]

Untitled #2
---
Wanderer, drifting,
nameless lost soul on an endless path,
why do you cringe away
from the one that reaches out to you?
Oh, would that you had eyes to see those endless wings.

The warmest embrace means nothing,
if you always turn away.
I cannot give you patience or wisdom;
those are only won through suffering and time.
I cannot give you courage or hope;
you may only find them within yourself,
and the one dies without the other.

I cannot give you anything that you do not already have,
but I can be here,
constant.

I cannot hold back your fears and loneliness,
nor can I fight off your pain and anger,
but I can wait here for you.

I can be here when you need me,
constant and distant as a star.
---


You know who you are.

[Estelore]

Recurrence
an aisling
---
Shimmering dark water closes softly over my head,
and my bare feet graze the thick, rough sand.

A silent, ripping shriek empties my lungs, and
clouds of bubbles carry my life away,
rushing past my face.
I hear my last breath fleeing,
hissing and clapping noisily in my ears,
pleased to escape.

Finally, I wrench open my eyes,
lifting my gaze.
The last light of desperate hope dances on the distant surface,
sun-gold and brilliant, but fading,
growing pale,
iridescent and silver where it glances off the foam.

I kick wildly at the iron bonds of the undertow,
and water rushes past my parted lips,
scorching and unstoppable,
filling my lungs again.

As the light fades from my sight,
I see a pattern on the waves,
like a death's-head, a dessicated corpse,
grinning madly.
It's shrivelled, bleached-bone hands
reach out to me,
welcoming,
beckoning.

My eyes close, and the after-image lingers,
not a corpse, but a woman's face,
pale and beautiful as the skull was terrible.
Graceful black wings close around me,
welcoming,
beckoning.
My Death greets me, and She is beautiful.
I stop fighting.

I gasp, drawing deep draughts of air,
my eyes wide open, staring into the dark
familiarity of my bedroom.

Tears leap, unbidden, to my eyes.
I don't know anymore why I am crying.
Maybe I weep because I am afraid.
Maybe I weep because I am relieved.
And maybe I weep because the dream is over,
knowing that eternity is only as near and as far as the next room.


Maybe it's a little of each. Yeah.
A little of each.
---



Note: I have a particularly nasty dream of drowning that recurs to me fairly frequently.

[Estelore]

I've decided to start a new project, based on a particularly interesting piece of work by Beethoven:
The Diabelli Variations.

For those who do not know, a man named Diabelli once wrote a particularly awful little waltz, and Beethoven took that idea and RAN WITH IT! He wrote 33 heartbreakingly beautiful separate pieces of music, all varying on the central musical theme of Diabelli's wretched tune. These Variations are considered by many to be the single most difficult (to play) group of piano solos ever written.

I've decided to do my own...poetical...ve rsion, using the central theme of RAF...

or rather, the MEMBERS of RAF.

One by one, in no particular order (trust me, there is NO reason to these, only rhyme, and probably not much of THAT, either), I intend to write a piece on all of the RAFians with whom I am most familiar.

Please do not be offended if you do not see your name on this list, or if it isn't at the top of the list. Order doesn't matter. If you don't see your name here, and you REALLY want me to make a poem for/about you, you can PM me, and I'll add you to the list if you are familiar enough to me. If your name is on the list, and you sincerely DON'T want me to write about you, PM me NOW and say so. I don't want to waste my time.

If you don't know me, or if I don't know YOU, there simply won't be one about you. Period.
Sorry. *shrug*
I can't write what I don't know.

I'll strike the names off as I go.

Jayne
Phoenix
Duff
Anna
Shanker
Tyler
Toomin
John
Ken
Morfowt
Blue
Richard
Estelore
Claire
Touquie
Dameg
Jen
Esplin
Charlie



Edit: Oh, right. Disclaimer.
Don't expect these poems to necessarily reflect your personality as YOU see it. It's poetry. I'm not going to sacrifice rhyme for meaning, nor meaning for rhyme. If the words fit the idea that I wish to convey, then those are the words I'm going to use, by George!

[Estelore]

Jayne
---
Every day, I greet the dawn,
twelve more hours to carry on,
one more night survived and gone,
wondering if I'm Knight or Pawn.

Darkling things surrounding me,
I'm the one that stands between
the Human dreams, so pure and clean
and Creatures no one else can see,
the horrid Things that shouldn't be.

Every night, I face the threat.
One more time, a trap to set.
I venture forth and spread the net,
then hurry home without regret.

Swiftly fades the sky to grey.
With clearest Sight and surest aim,
the trick is made, I win the game.
So when the light reveals the day,
only I will walk away.
---

[Estelore]

AnnaEstelore(Claire)
A poem in three voices.
---
The only difference between
angels and stars (and everyone else),
I think,
is that
angels can fall
stars can fall
(everyone can fall)
sometimes.

Each of us has
a message to convey,
a story to tell,
(a mystery to follow,)

but sometimes
it gets too lonely at the top,
it gets too quiet out here,
(it gets too scary down here,)

so we fly a little bit too low,
so we fly a little bit too far,
(so we fly a little bit too high,)

just a little bit too close to the sun,
and our wings just
burn away.
fade away.
(melt away.)

And we fall.

The only difference between
angels and stars (and everyone else),
I think,
is that sometimes
angels can fall,
stars can fall
(everyone can fall)

but we can't get back up again on our own,
but we can never get back up again,
(but we can try to get back up again, even when we're on our own, and sometimes we even make it,)

(but we can't go back home again)

and still call ourselves angels
and still call ourselves stars
(and still call ourselves a part of everyone else, just like everyone else)

(and still remain what we were.)

The only difference between
angels and stars (and everyone else),
I think,

is that when angels fall, they weep,
when stars fall, they make a wish,
(when we fall, we get up and try again, and they praise us, write songs about us, and call us "Heroes",)

but we're all the same,
because sometimes we fall,
(and none of us is ever the same again.)

[ANna]

Ooh I loooooooooooooooooo ooooooved it Estemoolore!!!!

[Estelore]

Aww, jeeez. Thanks, Anna! I hope that Claire sees this in time to comment, before I post another one.

*hint hint, Claire!*

[Nateosaurus]

Yays I made it in time

That was really awesome Este! I can't even describe how cool it was.
When I saw your PM I started smiling, and then I was smiling even more when I read the poem, coz it was just so great!

[Estelore]

Thanks, Claire!! I'm REALLY glad that you liked it. You have no IDEA how glad I am that you BOTH like it!!

On to the next segment. If I don't have time to finish this, I'll put it all in a different font face to show that it is unfinished. Caution: One minor curse word ahead. Like I said: if the words fit....
---

Shanker
With Courtesy to Douglas Adams and John Milton
---
Sometimes, I wonder if this whole deal,
Life, the Universe, and Everything,
isn't just a big, cosmic Joke.

I mean, there is just way too much irony in everything.
How is a person supposed to get around it?
You can't escape the tiny, infinitessimal, coincidental details,
and you can't overlook the great, big, glaring puns
that just jump out at you,
like binary code in the middle of a thesaurus.

Sure, I guess that you could look at it the other way,
like entropy and everything is wearing us all down
to little, useless bits of matter
with no energy...

...but isn't that really just another kind of sarcasm?

Oh, yeah, you could say that the Universe is a mystery,
a Question (what is 6 X 9?)
waiting for an Answer (42),
but I'll bet you ANYTHING
that the Question for the Answer
is nothing less than a Joke in Base 13!

(Nobody writes jokes in base 13.
I may be a pretty sad person,
but I don't make jokes in base 13.)

Anyway, I don't CARE what anyone else thinks.
You can just go on and live your sad, lonely, colourblind lives.
You can keep looking at me like I've grown another head.
You can stand with the crowd on Judgment Day, and feel righteous about it.
I really don't care.

So go ahead, follow the rules, obey the laws,
obey Gravity,
and line up single file on the stairs
while you walk toward those Pearly Gates
(or the other ones, if you really think that it matters),
I don't care.

I don't care, because
I won't be in that line with you.
Oh, no.
You see, I learned a LONG time ago
that rules were made to be broken,
and laws were made to be defied.
Facts to be disproven.
I also learned how to throw myself at the ground and miss...

...to 'fall with style', so to speak.

So when you're on that Stairway to Heaven
(or the other one, there's no difference, really.
Heaven is a state of mind, you know.),
just keep your eyes open.
Look out for me.

If you're paying attention,
I'll be the one you see flying
high above you,
far ahead of you,
beyond your reach,
but just within your sight,
ignoring all the rules and laughing his disobedient ass off.

I'll be the one who knows the Punch-Line to the Cosmic Joke:
The only real difference between flying and falling
is which way you choose to go,
how committed you are to getting there,
and how certain you are that you'll make it.
---

[Estelore]

For Richard, the silent-yet-ever-present, tranquil-yet-stern Artifax of RAF...
how could I do anything less than Haiku? I'll stick with one, for now, but I may do a counter-point haiku after every few longer poems. I'm not sure yet.

By the way: Don't you DARE call me lazy for doing a short poem. I had to figure up quite a few in my head before I EVER put one down in actual type. It's just as tough to find the RIGHT Haiku as it is to keep setting accurate metre for a sonnet.
---

Richard
---
You may not know me,
but that does not mean that I
haven't noticed you.
---

[ANna]

Those are awesome, too, Estemoolore. You gots the skillz.