Just a small selection from the poem Ulysses by Lord Alfred Tennyson. I’m not sure I’ve EVER posted a poem or poetry oriented post before, as that is just not my thing. But poetry is the expression of the soul and sometimes it speaks where our own words fail us.
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Title: The Book of Atrix Wolfe
Author: Patricia McKillip
Rating: 4.5 of 5 Stars
Format: Digital Edition
Atrix Wolfe, a powerful mage, is drawn into a conflict between 2 Kingdoms. One fateful night he uses his magic to put an end to the conflict and things go horribly wrong. He conjures The Hunter, a living nightmare of pain, terror and death. One king dies, the other flees, broken completely.
Many years later, the 2nd son of the dead king, is attending the Wizards School. He is recalled home and takes a book with him. His elder brother, unable to have heirs, makes him the heir and wants him to settle down and begin stabilizing the royal line, ie, get married and start making babies. Prince Talus agrees but still wants to study the magic book he brought home, little realizing it is the Book of Atrix Wolfe and the words contained are twisted by Wolfe’s despair at what he had done all those years ago.
In his mucking about, Talus calls the attention of the Hunter again, gets kidnapped by the Queen of the Faeries and is the fulcrum upon which turns the fates of many. The Hunter’s nightmare must end, the Faerie Queen’s daughter returned, Atrix Wolfe atoning for his misdeeds and Talus saving his brother’s life.
Just like a fairytale, there is a satisfying ending, even if not a happy ending, for everyone’s storyline.
The Book of Atrix Wolfe was my first McKillip book. I read it back in ’05 and over the next 2 years gobbled up her back list of books. I had never come across an author who wrote like this and it blew my mind. I became a fan of hers with this book and it holds one of those special places in my mind.
So it was with trepidation that I began my re-read. Things change in 12 years. My “little cousin” was in first grade and a bossy little boy when I first read this. Now he’s 6’4” and graduated highschool. I am now married, bald [well, shaved. Receding hairline isn’t fun for anyone] and about 25lbs more muscular [hahaha]. Of course, most of the changes are inside and not always easy to see or for me to even know. * insert Zen aphorism about mirrors and the back of one’s head *
My concerns were well founded, unfortunately. The story was just as good, the writing even better. But I could not accept the lack of communication between the various characters. The Faerie Queen’s lover and her daughter have disappeared on the fateful night and she has been looking for them ever since. She knows that Atrix Wolfe is responsible, but instead of asking for his help, she kidnaps Talus, uses him as a go between and even then STILL doesn’t actually tell him what is wrong. Atrix Wolfe won’t tell anyone about the Hunter, even while it is active again. Talus won’t tell his brother about the Faerie Queen and just goes off and does his own thing.
It was all extremely fairy tale like, so that type of thing is expected. But it really bothered me this time around and I couldn’t get past it. I knocked off half a star for that. It didn’t help that I’d been dealing with a sore back, lack of work and issues at church. I didn’t have the patience or reserves to accept the foibles of fictional characters.
Other than that issue, this WAS just as good as before. McKillip is a master wordsmith and her use of the english language is enchanting. She doesn’t just use words and sentences “correctly”, she knows them and the rules well enough so that she can “weave” them. It is the difference between a paint by numbers picture of the Mona Lisa and the actual Mona Lisa.
Oh the deep abiding loneliness, the deep, black abyss of despair
You are gone, taken from me, rending my heart in twain
How will I go on knowing you are not there?
My poor soda bottle is empty
the awful void within.
the emptiness consuming all.
Massive nothingness in us all
Not to bad, wouldn’t you say? I was actually kind of down when I started, but when I actually read it, I started laughing. What a bunch of pretentious phooey. That’s what emo is all about after all, wallowing selfishly in ones own pathetic nature without trying to change it.
Hahahahaa. I feel better now 🙂
Poor Preborn Baby
fully aware of the Past
the Now, the Future.
Strug’ling against the madness,
sweeping Coriolis storm!
Left by your mother,
feared by all who know of you.
Maud’Dib did love you.
Yet he could not save himself.
So you were left to yourself.
Voices crowding in.
The Baron silenced them all.
But he took control.
Thus you were lost to the good.
A danger to Maud’Dib’s heirs.
You fell and you died.
Let us lament your beauty.
You were doomed from birth.
I cry for your wasted end.
I shed water for the dead.
This Saying Is True.
It makes me laugh very much.
I hope you do too.
Oh So Beautiful
My wonderful hot potpie
It fills my hunger
Now THERE is some disposable info for you all 🙂
2am and I’m still awake, writing
a song and if I get it all down
on paper it’s no longer inside me
threatening the life it belongs to
and I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
cause these words are my diary screaming outloud…
Now that is melancholy. Sometimes Haiku are not enough. Thankgoodness for songs…
The Sun I did love.
So bright, shining Free on all,
and I wanted it.
So I called “Dear Sun, be mine;
let ALL your light on me shine”
The Sun laughed and sang
“Foolish man, wrong that would be!”
The Sun went away.
Cast down, a strong vow I made.
The Light of Day I’ll not see.
every window, every door.
No light did I see.
Living in darkness, content.
‘Til one night I heard the Moon.
“Oh man, please come out.
Talk with me. I’m not the Sun.
Do not punish me.”
I peeked out the door.
I saw the Moon, her glory,
Wrapped in dark, dark cloud.
Everyone inside, asleep.
Not one being, out, about.
I slipped out the door,
hiding in the Moon’s shadows.
“Speak!” I cried aloud.
And so she spoke, on and on.
The Moon said so very much.
I listened, entranced.
Like one bereft of reason.
til I pled “Enough!”
The Moon smiled down at me,
“I like your company, Sir.
May I ask your name?”
“Dero Xones” I did reply
And the Moon did go away,
but she would come back again.
This will probably be very deep and esoteric, so be warned.
I wrote the following Haiku at lunch after a hard morning’s work and other stuff. It was very real to me that although happiness might be considered a transitory, fleeting, emotion, it is a very real one and should be taken full advantage of when it pops its little head up from the depths. So, without further ado:
A Lost Battle
I tried to be sad,
gave it the ol’ “college try.”
Tried, and tried again!
That frown just wouldn’t stay put;
gave up, grinned like a cheshire.
This next piece, originally entitled
Es wÃ¼rde scheinen, daÃŸ ich bin die Stalker Art nach allenÂ…
is a very melancholy form. It is so sad in fact that it was originally composed on the back of a mileage chart, can you imagine the pure sadness to be in such straits? But I realized that the title would never catch on with Mainstream America, so I retitled it and present for your sad viewing:
Name of the Butterfly
and yet no fire for me
nothing but the cold
every man deserves a flame
so I wonder where is mine
silence answers me
announcing nothing at all
This choice I’ll honor.
As you can tell, the author is describing the inner torment inflicted upon him by some other human being, and while crying out against such evils, promises to endure and be the better man. He starts off in the depths of the frozen fire and ends in the stratosphere with the Ideals of Honor and Compassion! Truly a masterpiece of literary taste.