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aigoos · 5 months

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Sweetly, Sweetly Showered the Stars | Oneshot Romance and Fluff Obikin | Rating: T | Words: 3000

Summary: On Naboo, the special star showers occur once every decade, and Padme invites Anakin and Obi-Wan to the event. After years of loving Obi-Wan, Anakin has to decide if he wants to confess his love or continue to keep it hidden.

Inspired by this beautiful art by @human-rocket. Title influenced by a line from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Much thanks to @veloursdor for helping me get unstuck and for @to-proudly-go for being an awesome cheerleader! And huge thanks to @ineffableobikin for betaing!

Anakin walked out to the balcony attached to his room, and he stretched up towards the sky, enjoying the cool morning breeze and the warm sunlight. Crossing his arms behind him and straightening his upper body, he took a deep breath and looked at the view of Naboo's countryside, seeing the Gallo Mountains in the distance and the gently rolling hills in the foreground. The whole place felt like something out of a pastoral fairy tale, making him feel relaxed and at peace, and he welcomed the slower pace for a change.

"Are you ready for the star showers tonight?"

Anakin turned around and faced Obi-Wan walking towards him. His heart fluttered quickly, and he took a deep breath to calm himself as the love of his life came to stand in front of him. How could he not love someone like Obi-Wan? Nobody else could compare in terms of looks, personality, and intelligence. He eyed Obi-Wan discreetly as his master looked out over the balcony, his hands tucked in his sleeves. A peaceful expression graced Obi-Wan’s handsome face, and his perfectly groomed hair and beard tempted Anakin to want to muss it by kissing him and running his hands through those auburn tresses.

"I'm more than ready," Anakin replied, ignoring all his pining thoughts and somehow managing to keep his voice steady. "Padme did go on that long poetic monologue describing the last star showers she saw ten years ago."

"Can you blame her? It must be beautiful."

Not as beautiful as you.

Anakin turned his gaze back to the scenic views, willing himself not to blush and give in to his emotions. "It was good timing that we were able to accept her invitation."

"Very much so. She was very gracious in inviting both of us," Obi-Wan agreed. "Speaking of Padme, we should go join her for breakfast."

"All right."

Obi-Wan headed out first, with Anakin following a few steps behind. Thinking about what was to come later, Anakin wondered about tonight, wondered how he should confess -- whether he should even confess. He dreaded the rejection that may result from his confession, but at the same time, he was tired of hiding his feelings. He was attached to his former master in ways that went against the Code, but Anakin's love for Obi-Wan prevailed with the might of his stubbornness. All he wanted was Obi-Wan's love and heart, Obi-Wan's warm body in his arms, as they cuddled together.

He could still be a good Jedi and not let his love for Obi-Wan get in the way of his duties. That was what he truly believed. He also believed that the Force had given him its approval whenever he had a moment to meditate, feeling their gentle pulses when he became a part of it. But still he hesitated. Will of the Force or not, he didn't want to face this with his usual boldness, for Obi-Wan was much too precious for him to lose by being impulsive. Still, he needed to do something soon; he'd dawdled long enough.

*****

"Tonight will be the perfect chance, you know."

Anakin leaned back against the couch and looked sideways at Padme. "Perfect chance for . . . ?"

She rolled her eyes as she gave him a look and poked his cheek gently. "Don't play dumb, Ani."

He grinned and sobered quickly. "Dunno if I can, Pads. I'm tired of hiding, but I don't know if I can stomach his rejection. What if everything changes for the worse?"

"Didn't you say that it felt right in the Force -- your feelings for him?" she asked, bringing up one of her soft hands to cup his cheek. He leaned into the reassuring touch, glad that their friendship was one where they could show affection and not worry about it being weird or sexual.

He sighed, trying his best to calm his mind. "Yeah, but it's still not an easy thing to do."

"Well, as the great motivational speaker Essel Jaksun would say, 'Stop being a motherfucking idiot and just do it'."

"Pads!" he exclaimed and laughed at the same time. "I can't believe you!"

"Why? Because he looks way too similar to Master Windu?"

" . . . No. Just don't imitate him. Please."

She giggled and reached over to hug him tightly. She whispered in his ear, "Do something tonight. The two of you can have fun at the festival. Just forget about the war for one night and let yourself be happy."

Without saying anything, he hugged her back and buried his face against her shoulder, so grateful for her friendship, understanding, and love. Whatever happened tonight, he would handle it, good or bad, but deep inside, he hoped desperately for Obi-Wan to reciprocate his love. At the least, if he did get rejected, Padme had a huge stash of wine he could drown his sorrows in and suffer from a massive hangover tomorrow; however, he reflected, he’d prefer to get drunk on love rather than wine.

*****

The festival was massive, with hundreds of people out, and it was crowded, but not to the point of feeling crushed. Booth after booth lined the streets, with a variety of smells and sounds coming from them. Exuberant cheering and laughter could be heard everywhere, the excitement drawing Anakin in as the blissful energy grew in his heart and spread throughout his body.

Padme had left them alone, saying she'd promised to explore the festival with her nieces. Anakin had no complaints -- not when he could pretend that he was on a date with Obi-Wan -- albeit a very one-sided date, but it still counted in his book.

Bit by bit, with Obi-Wan by his side, they both leisurely strolled around the festival and took in the whole scene. Anakin personally enjoyed seeing the food booths, even venturing out to try some of the local delicacies. His favourite treat was the carp-shaped pastry filled with red-bean paste with a name he'd never remember. He'd also happily tried some boiled silkworms, which were quite crunchy with a savoury flavour. The look of pure disgust on Obi-Wan's face made him laugh.

"It's not that bad, Master," Anakin commented as he finished the last of it.

Obi-Wan shook his head hard. "I'll take your word for it."

"Oh!" Anakin exclaimed and pointed at the darts game. "Let's play. Best two out of three?"

"You're on," Obi-Wan said, raising an eyebrow while his eyes twinkled.

Anakin didn't remember who won their little competition, for he was extremely distracted by such a relaxed and cheerful Obi-Wan. It'd been so long since they'd been able to just unwind and not worry about the war. Obi-Wan's eyes didn't look as haunted and exhausted as they did a few days ago, his former master's grimaces now turned to light smiles with soft chuckles that didn't sound so forced.

This was the man whom Anakin had fallen in love with; seeing Obi-Wan like this made his heart fill with elated delight and made his stomach do nervous flips. He wanted to pull Obi-Wan into his embrace and never let him go, war and Jedi life all be damned.

But Anakin behaved and kept his hands and thoughts to himself as they wandered around the festival, content to hear Obi-Wan go on excitedly about obscure facts that only he would know. Anakin listened with half an ear, as he smiled and nodded in the right places, hoping he didn't come off with a goofy lovestruck expression.

When they ran into Padme, all three greeted each other before he saw the "knock down the bottles" game, saw the stuffed animals lining the booth, and said, "Pads! I'm going to win you that super ugly stuffed loth cat -- that glittery neon purple and green one!"

Padme blinked and her face took on a horrified expression when her eyes landed on the stuffed animal. "Oh, no, Ani! Absolutely not!"

"I insist! Take it as my gratitude for your invitation to this event." Anakin ignored Padme's sputtering and he gave Obi-Wan a big grin. "Don't you think that'd match her interior?"

"No comments from me," Obi-Wan answered blandly, his face having gone into a blank mask for a brief moment before it returned to one of him looking slightly amused.

Anakin frowned to himself, wondering why Obi-Wan's mood had shifted, wondering why he'd looked off for a few seconds. He briefly pondered if he did something wrong -- was it that bad of an idea to win a prize for his best friend or was exhaustion catching up to Obi-Wan? Knowing that this was not the place nor time to resolve this new mystery, he set aside his investigator persona and went up to the booth to win Padme the stuffed loth cat. He easily won the game and accepted the prize, and he practically shoved the prize into Padme's chest gleefully. "Don't say I never did anything for you!"

Padme's resigned look just made him laugh. Obi-Wan also chortled next to him, but Anakin didn't miss the weird emotions he felt in the Force. But before he could question it further, Padme said, "It's almost time! Let's go to the balcony."

Anakin followed behind them with a mix of emotions swirling inside of him. The star showers would happen soon, and he had to decide what to do with his love for Obi-Wan. He briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would do something -- he just had to figure out the best course of action within the next half an hour.

*****

Before Padme left them on their private balcony, she gave Anakin a "you better do something or I will make you regret giving me that horrendous stuffed nightmare" look, and Anakin returned the look with a smirk. With Obi-Wan, they walked up to the balcony's end; Anakin stood straight and crossed his arms, while Obi-Wan bent and leaned against the bar.

Below them, there were hundreds of people standing around, all looking upwards, eager to see the promised star showers. The thrums of excitement were contagious, and Anakin felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. To hide his conflicting emotions, he turned to teasing.

"Your back killing you, Old Man?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not nice to mock your elders, Anakin."

"So you are admitting you're old?"

" . . . I'm not that--"

Many people below them gasped, and then a hush fell over the entire place as everyone looked upwards to see the start of the much-anticipated star showers. Against the night sky, the stars shone brightly and then fell around them at different rates. Some showered down quickly, much like someone sprinkling salt over them. Others came down slower, like snow gently falling from the sky as it left behind trails of fading light.

Padme wasn't kidding -- the star showers were breathtakingly gorgeous. Anakin stared at them in awe for a minute or so, and then he glanced over at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan's entire demeanour spoke of pure admiration as he stared at the sky with a gentle smile, eyes sparkling like the falling stars around them, lips parting as he took a deep breath.

Anakin turned his gaze completely towards Obi-Wan, as if he'd developed tunnel vision, unable to see anything but his master next to him. He could feel the Force dance and sing around them, completely hypnotised. He was so hyper-fixated on Obi-Wan, that he'd almost missed what Obi-Wan said next.

"They're quite beautiful, aren't they?"

"Yes, Master. Beautiful," he responded softly, eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's face. He swallowed hard against his suddenly dry throat, willing the Force to give him the courage to take the next step. He allowed his thoughts of not as beautiful as you to escape from behind his shields and he reached out with invisible hands, pouring all the love he could bring himself to give into their bond.

Seconds ticked, followed by a long pause as Anakin's eyes never left Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan finally turned to look at him, and their eyes met. Without breaking eye contact, Anakin reached out with his flesh hand and cupped Obi-Wan's cheek while he stroked the sharp cheekbone with his thumb.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan breathed out as his bright blue eyes became half-lidded.

Stepping closer, Anakin murmured, "They are not as beautiful as you, Master."

Obi-Wan leaned closer into his touch, and Anakin felt his heart jump with joy as hope spread all over him. He moved in even closer, the desire to kiss him growing stronger. But then Obi-Wan's eyes opened up all the way, and he took a step back with a confused expression. "What about Padme?"

Anakin jerked back in bewilderment, dropped his hand, and gave Obi-Wan a befuddled look. "Padme?"

"You two are not as subtle as you think," Obi-Wan continued. "I understand you two have feelings for each other, and while it does go against the Code . . . I want nothing but happiness for you."

" . . . How did you come to that kriffing conclusion?" Anakin exclaimed. "Padme is just my best friend!"

"Earlier today, I saw you two on the couch. And you also did win that monstrosity for her."

Anakin paused. Though Obi-Wan had stayed calm and showed no emotions outwardly, through the Force, he felt an undercurrent of . . . was that jealousy?

He thought back to what had happened earlier today and tried to see the situation from Obi-Wan's perspective; he supposed they did come off as a couple from a certain point of view. But he still asked incredulously, "Are you jealous?"

"Jealous? What -- yes, I mean, no -- where did you get that idea?!" Obi-Wan floundered very uncharacteristically.

With the stars still falling around them, Anakin snorted and began to snigger hard. "You are so jealous."

"I. Am. Not."

"And I'm going to live in a sand castle," Anakin said dryly. Then Obi-Wan's earlier words came to the front of his mind, which made him say, "You said . . . you want nothing but happiness for me."

Obi-wan gave him a slight frown. "I did."

Taking a deep breath, Anakin reached for the courage somewhere inside his rapidly thumping chest and continued, "What if my happiness meant being with you? I love you, Obi-Wan -- it's always been you. It was never Padme. I want to be with you."

The frown melted off of Obi-Wan's face as his eyes softened and his lips quirked up in a gentle smile. Anakin nearly jumped in surprise when he felt Obi-Wan's calloused fingers caressing his cheek. "Oh, my dearest, I feel the same way. But the Code--"

"No, no, no. Do not bring up the Code, Master," Anakin begged, eyes closing tight on their own accord, his hand coming up to rest on top of Obi-Wan's, whose hand was still on Anakin's cheek. "Please -- the Code is outdated. Attachment can be dangerous, but my attachment to you is not that at all. Because of you, I want to be a better person, want to prove to you how much I love and care for you. I know you will want some time to think about this, and I will give you as long as you want. Just don't--"

Anakin stopped his desperate rambling when a pair of lips met his own -- soft, warm lips, which were framed by the beard that tickled his cheeks faintly. Obi-Wan was kissing him.

To quote the great Essel Jaksun (thanks a lot, Padme), holy motherfucking shit. He's kissing me! Obi-Wan's really kissing me!

Before Anakin could kiss back, Obi-Wan broke the kiss and moved his head back slightly and said, "You didn't let me finish."

Anakin couldn't bring to feel any remorse as he felt nothing but euphoria inside of him that made him want to yell out to the whole galaxy that Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, High General of the Grand Army of the Republic, the Negotiator, had just kissed him. Trembling so much from the emotions that were ready to burst out of him, he rested his forehead against Obi-Wan's forehead, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and whispered, "Go ahead."

"The Code -- I was raised by the Code and I was determined to follow it. But when I began to have feelings for you, I began to question the Code and all that it states about attachments, and about how there is no passion, but serenity. Why can't we have both, as long as we can balance them?"

"I hope that is a rhetorical question because I can’t think of anything but kissing you again," Anakin admitted with no shame. He turned to look back at the sky, and he saw that the star showers were still occurring. Turning his gaze back to Obi-Wan, he tilted his face and leaned in close until only a hair’s breadth separated their lips. "I want us to kiss again right under the star showers."

Obi-Wan responded by closing the tiny gap, and their lips met once more. They kept still for several seconds and then Obi-Wan -- or was it him -- Anakin wasn't sure, and it surely didn't matter in the long run -- deepened their kiss. Lips parted, tongues met, and Anakin felt like he was drowning in his desires. The kiss was amazing and felt a lot better than anything he'd had imagined. As ridiculous as it sounded later, right now, he really wished time would stop and keep them here forever, under the beautiful star showers, away from the war and all their responsibilities.

He felt the Force sing to him, and it sounded like, "Sweetly, sweetly showered the stars / the wandering souls have come afar / never apart forevermore / as those who love will always soar."

When the star showers ended, Anakin's mind stayed on those words from the Force, and he pulled Obi-Wan into a tight embrace. "I love you."

"And I love you, my dearest."

As the night went on, and when they finally retired to one room, the love and hope the star showers gave Anakin stayed with him. It was a night he could never forget, a night of new beginnings for the two wandering souls amongst the stars.

~ Fin ~

A03 URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52417552

#my fic #obikin #obikin fic #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #based off a fanart #essel jaksun needs to be a thing now #human-rocket is bloody amazing

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gacougnol · 2 years

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Gustave Doré

The Marooned Ship in the Moonlit Sea

Scene from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by S. T. Coleridge

1876

#gustave doré #wood engraving

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cordeliaflyte · 10 months

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top 5 poems !!

the shield of achilles by w. h. auden

niebo złote ci otworzę by krzysztof kamil baczyński

first duino elegy by rainer maria rilke

orpheus and eurydice by czesław miłosz

kubla khan by s. t. coleridge

#answered

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broke-on-books · 5 months

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Got tagged by @threephantomrey on a reading game thing, it got long so it's pasted under the cut.

1) How many books did you read this year?

So many omg!! I logged 34 books on Goodreads but I only started logging there at the end of February. I also read a shitton of comics that I didn’t log there because I didn’t want to skew certain statistics and use a different app to log that. (Going by my rough math using that, I’ve read 360 individual comic issues in 2023, not counting rereads). So like I read a lot.

2) Did you reread anything? What?

Sooo much stuff. I just finished a reread of N. K. Jemisin’s Great Cities Duology like two days ago, which I cannot recommend more. Also reread 17776 recently, as well as a childhood favorite (The Fall of the Readers series by Django Wexler) over the summer. When it comes to comics I’ve also done a ton of rereading, most notably Emerald Twilight (Green Lantern (1990) #48-50) like 5 times for the most rereads, but I’ve also reread other faves (in whole or part) such as Wonder Woman: Historia, Batgirl (2000), and I’m currently doing a Green Lanterns (2016) read which has me brain diseased because I am actually obsessed with them SO bad. And I reread poetry constantly so there’s that too.

3) What were your top five books of the year?

I’m skipping this one honestly. I started thinking about it and it hurt my brain. Some standouts I haven’t mentioned yet though include The Fifth Season by N K Jemisin, The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin, The Last Speakers: The Quest to Save the World’s Most Endangered Languages by K. David Harrison, and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Also like everything Greg Rucka did on Wonder Woman in the aughts (including the Hikateia <3333)

4) Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?

Probably Greg Rucka is a big one, Would maybe count James Baldwin here but that’s iffy because I decided to start reading some of his stuff because I loved a poem of his I had read before this year (among other things). I would also say I discovered A. S. King this year, but I don’t know if I’d say I LOVE her writing, rather that I find it incredibly entertaining because of how batshit fucking crazy it is. Like no one else is on her level when it comes to insanity honestly (and I say this as a comics fan)

5) What genre did you read the most of?

I mean superhero comics probably, but also I read a good amount of poetry (as always) and some fiction.

6) Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?

Sooooooo much! Because I like so many genres I’m always reading like 10+ books at a time, and still a lot of stuff I just don’t get to. Some things I wanted to read include some poetry books I own, specifically my Most Famous Poems of All Time anthology (I think that’s what it’s called?) and my best of Antonio Machado book (bilingual edition!). There’s also a bunch of specific poems that would fall under this category. Also meant to read the Light of the Jedi by Charles Soule (and the rest of the main High Republic series), but that didn’t happen. Also I wanted to read some 90s Flash but it’s soooo long and I couldn’t justify starting it while I’m in the middle of so many things.

7) What was your average Goodreads rating? Does it seem accurate?

My average rating was a 4.2 which is pretty high. I’d say it seems accurate for the books I finished, but when you consider all my DNFs and comics it would definitely be way lower, as I quit a bunch of books halfway through for being terrible this spring that aren’t reflected, and also I read some really shitty comics for my faves this fall.

8) Did you meet any of your reading goals? Which ones?

No I didn’t meet them : ((((((((. I was pretty ambitious with the Goodreads goal (set for 100 books) so I’m not sad I didn’t meet that, but I was using those numbers to compete with my best friend on who could read the most, and I lost that (she had 43 to my 34) due to a slump in the early summer and another during the school year in the fall. For comics I recently hit 1000 issues read, so I’m happy about that mindset, and got my niche fave into my top 5 characters read so I’m pretty happy there. Still haven’t reached my goal of having Wonder Woman beat Batman for my top character yet, but that only emerged as an objective like a month ago so I’m not too upset.

9) Did you get into any new genres?

I’d say so, yes! In recent years I’ve done a lot of expanding my taste of books into different genres, and this year I think I read a lot of memoirs, (both traditional and fictionalized) than I ever did before. For traditional I read Jennette McCurdy’s I’m Glad My Mom Died and in terms of fictionalized, I read and enjoyed both Go Tell it on the Mountain by James Baldwin and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian by Sherman Alexie. Next year I want to read more of this genre, especially getting to Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, which has been on my TBR for a while.

10) What was your favorite new release of the year?

New release… um…. Let me check something real quick. How have I read nothing from this year what. Okay I’m just going to stick to comics for this one and say Spirit World by Alyssa Wong was SO GOOD. Honestly may buy the trade for that when it comes out in April like I was loving that series sm. (also Wong is my favorite comic author currently writing. Although they’re not doing anything I’m interested in in 2024 it looks like : ((((( )

11) What was your favorite book that has been out for a while, but you just now read?

*blinks in classics fan* uhhh actually you know what. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner has been published for 231 slutty, slutty years and I only got around to it now. So that’s a shame. Also I read Huck Finn for the first time this year and that’s been culturally massive for centuries as well. Although the ending for that book was shit I really liked the rest. Tom Sawyer can actually die in a hole though I hate him SO much.

12) Any books that disappointed you?

SO MANY YES. I had a really long dnf streak in late spring of this year, but one of the books I couldn’t finish was one of the most hyped up books I’ve read this year, that being All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. Also I actually finished this one but I just hated Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard. Which like I’ve heard good things about this play and I had just finished Hamlet like a month or so before and just like. Idk it was bad I didn’t like it and thought it was super confusing. Maybe watching a stage production would make me like it more but like. It was not lit fam idk :/

13) What were your least favorite books of the year?

Those two for sure would be in there. Also just like the rest of my dnfs I guess. R & G was the only book I finished that I rated less than three stars on goodreads. OH WAIT COMICS. I read so many shitty comics oh my god. This could have gone in disappointments too but Green Lantern: Mosaic FUCKING SUCKED. Like jesus christ it was so bad I only made it three issues. It was such a disappointment too because it was a spinoff book from a really good arc imo (written by the worst human to ever draw air and write comics. Not an exaggeration) with cool ideas and characterization and then the actual book is like fucking. Horrific. Like he has the main character fucking graphically domestic abuse his girlfriend in front of her kid and then she forgives him and then she comforts him and it's just a hot mess of a book. Fucking awful. This summary doesn’t even begin to cover it.

14) What books do you want to finish before the year is over?

I told myself I would finally finish Muerte Bajo el Sol, the Spanish translation of Agatha Christie’s Evil Under the Sun by the end of the year but I very much lied there so yeah. I’ve been reading that book for so long I just need it over.

15) Did you read any books that were nominated for or won awards this year (Booker, Women’s Prize, National Book Award, Pulitzer, Hugo, etc.)? What did you think of them?

Oh yeah a ton. I like my books thematically crunchy so I generally search out award winners. I’ll be easy and say the Broken Earth Trilogy here, which I did love, although I think the first book was the strongest outside of the three. I won’t spoil but I was in the parking lot waiting to pick up my friend when I reached a certain point and I legit almost honked my horn in the senior parking lot. At dismissal. Also had a few great moments reading it where I realized that the author had read [insert classic here] as well and was drawing some inspiration for certain elements which I liked.

16) What is the most over-hyped book you read this year?

All the Light We Cannot See for sure. It just wasn’t it personally.

17) Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

Maphead by Ken Jennings lmao. I was given a metric ton of Ken Jennings books for Christmas 2022 (because I’m a MAJOR trivia/quiz bowl nerd and he hosts Jeopardy) but this was my favorite, and I really did like it. (especially the quiz in the back haha)

18) How many books did you buy?

No comment. The username is the username for a reason. No but uhhh for real idk. I used the libraries pretty heavily this year, so when it comes to like my own money then just two comic trades I think. Maybe some more poetry. I get given/ask for a lot of books as gifts so that’s where most of mine comes from. I got 9 books for Christmas like last week haha.

19) Did you use your library?

Yee! I used 4 different library systems this year, (high school, local public, college, and college local public) so I definitely made the most of it. Currently I have three library cards as I just applied for a new one in my college town using my dorm address lol. Oh and I got a few books from an informal swap library set up in a bookshelf right outside my summer job so that too i suppose.

20) What was your most anticipated release? Did it meet your expectations?

I’ll use Spirit World here because it actually came out in 2023 haha. I think it both met and surpassed my expectations, as the reasons I started the book were all better or just as good as expected, but also there were so many other elements that I thought were soooo good too so yeah.

21) Did you participate in or watch any booklr, booktube, or book twitter drama?

Nah idc about any of that. I listen to my friend complain about how shitty some of the popular tiktok books she reads are so that should count for something ig.

22) What’s the longest book you read?

The Fifth Season was 468 pages so that one. Shortest was Rime of the Ancient Mariner with 77 pages (although I think it was shorter tbh)

23) What’s the fastest time it took you to read a book?

According to Libby I think like an hour and a half for the Absolutely True Diary which is kind of crazy. (not counting the Rime here obviously) but generally it only takes me a couple hours for most books. Poetry collections and nonfiction are different though.

24) Did you DNF anything? Why?

SO MUCH. Why? Because it sucked. No but like I was trapped with my most accessible library from Jan - May this year being the one at my high school, which just had SO much YA and books for like. Middle schoolers. This was at a time where my tastes were maturing a lot and I really wanted serious books. So even recommendations I would get from the librarians for books during this time would fall flat just because they were too juvenile for what I was into.

25) What reading goals do you have for next year?

To beat my best friend in books read. Also like to try not to slump too bad and just like. Read a good amount. Finish my one spanish book so I can start my other spanish book. Have Wonder Woman beat Batman in my comic book stats. Yeah.

As for tagging uh idk im like really congested right now so like. people do whatever i dont want to have to htink of anybody to tag *thumbs up emoji*

#blah

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detroitlib · 2 years

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From our stacks: Frontispiece "'The Death of Chatterton.' Hand-painted photogravure after the painting by H. Wallis." From English Belles-Lettres. From A. D. 901 to 1834. By Alfred the Great, Thomas Browne, Roger Ascham, John Arbuthnot, George Gascoigne, Lord Bolingbroke, Philip Sidney, Thomas Chatterton, John Selden, S. T. Coleridge. With Special Introduction and Biographical Notes By Oliver H. G. Leigh. Washington & London: M. Walter Dunne, 1901.

#the death of chatterton #henry wallis #chatterton #thomas chatterton #art #book #books #old books #photogravure #library books #death #illustration #book illustration #suicide #detroit public library #tw: suicide

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hamletscalamity · 1 year

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And Hamlet the character has had an especial temptation for that most dangerous type of critic: the critic with a mind which is naturally of the creative order, but which through some weakness in creative power exercises itself in criticism instead. These minds often find in Hamlet a vicarious existence for their own artistic realization. Such a mind had Goethe, who made of Hamlet a Werther; and such had Coleridge, who made of Hamlet a Coleridge; and probably neither of these men in writing about Hamlet remembered that his first business was to study a work of art. The kind of criticism that Goethe and Coleridge produced, in writing of Hamlet, is the most misleading kind possible.

- T. S. Eliot Hamlet and His Problems (1920)

And I have known the eyes already, known them all— The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase, And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin, When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall, Then how should I begin To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways? And how should I presume?

- T. S. Eliot excerpt from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (1950)

Sure buddy, you definitely didn’t make of Hamlet an Eliot. You are sooooo not like the other girls and definitely kept distance from the concept of absorbing Hamlet. Definitely, good job Mr. Eliot!

#hamlet #t s eliot #literature #i hope that his ghost haunts me out of anger #because i think i personally could take t s eliot

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katblu42 · 2 years

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4 and 12? 😄📚

Hello! Thanks for asking!

4. What sections of a bookstore do you browse?

I have wound up frequenting the Sci-Fi and Fantasy shelves as well as general Fiction and Classics. Occasionally I'll also look at New Releases - but I tend to look for particular authors there.

12. Did you enjoy any compulsory high school readings?

I really like this question! Yes I did - I also hated a few! Some of the poets we studied were particular favourites, each with a couple of poems that stuck with me (particularly Samuel T Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Kubla Khan and John Done's The Flea and Holy Sonnet 7.) I liked some of the plays - even some of the Shakespeare ones!! But the novels I enjoyed most were The Cartoonist by Betsy Byars, Taronga by Victor Kelleher, The Outsiders by S E Hinton, and Fortress by Gabrielle Lord.

For the record, I didn't really enjoy Jane Austen or Charles Dickens novels in high school!

#book asks #ask game #ask me things

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tropicalbildung · 2 months

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근데 잔디가 안 좋잖아? 그냥 좋다고 생각하면 돼!

3/22 (F)

Grading - CE2 - 8 left

Brit Poetry - Sorting each student's package

let's get back to the system....

-> Read the poem again

3/23 (S)

Grading - CE2 - 3 left -> What can be added to Monday's work?

-> list the sources I can clearly summarize and know how to use

3/25(T)

Prompt writing + Rubric

Peer Review Sheet - 2

19 British Poetry -> Coleridge -> Ancient Mariner

3/29 (F)

Korg - Earth / particle?

-> follow the sun -> it ends well

Geric -> Uniformitarian position -> present - past -> "uniform"

Earth on Show

Susan Gil,,

several keywords

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weirdlookindog · 1 year

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"Her lips were red, her looks were free, her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was as white as leprosy. The Night-Mare Life-in-Death was she, who thicks man's blood with cold." - S. T. Coleridge

Lancelot Speed - The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

(The Blue Poetry Book, 1912)

#lancelot speed #the rime of the ancient mariner #life and death #samuel taylor coleridge #illustration #the blue poetry book #horror art

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daimonclub · 7 months

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Poetry and Poems

Poetry and poems Poetry and poems, the works of poets, the art of words, an abridged article and some quotes by famous authors, a selection of poems and a comment by Carl William Brown. Everywhere I go I find that a poet has been there before me. Sigmund Freud And as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name. William Shakespeare Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood. T. S. Eliot In poetry and in eloquence the beautiful and grand must spring from the commonplace.... All that remains for us is to be new while repeating the old, and to be ourselves in becoming the echo of the whole world. Alexandre Vinet A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language. W. H. Auden I was reading the dictionary. I thought it was a poem about everything. Steven Wright One merit of poetry few persons will deny: it says more and in fewer words than prose. Voltaire Not only every great poet, but every genuine, but lesser poet, fulfils once for all some possibility of language, and so leaves one possibility less for his successors. T. S. Eliot The study of science teaches young men to think, while study of the classics teaches them to express thought. John Stuart Mill The lunatic, the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact, they have such seething brains, such shaping fantasies, that apprehend, more than cool reason ever comprehends. William Shakespeare Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history. Plato What the dead had no speech for, when living, They can tell you, being dead: the communication Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living. T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink. T. S. Eliot Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar. Percy Bysshe Shelley What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. T. S. Eliot We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. T. S. Eliot We know too much, and are convinced of too little. Our literature is a substitute for religion, and so is our religion. T. S. Eliot A poem contains the same elements as a prose composition; the difference therefore must consist in a different combination of them, in consequence of a different object being proposed. According to the difference of the object will be the difference of the combination. it is possible, that the object may be merely to facilitate the recollection of any given facts or observations by artificial arrangement; and the composition will be a poem, merely because it is distinguished from prose by metre, or by rhyme, or by both conjointly. In this, the lowest sense, a man might attribute the name of a poem to the well-known enumeration of the days in the several months; Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November, etc. and others of the same class and purpose. And as a particular pleasure is found in anticipating the recurrence of sounds and quantities, all compositions that have this charm super-added, whatever be their contents, may be entitled poems. Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Poetry and poems The true spirit of delight, the exaltation, the sense of being more than Man, which is the touchstone of the highest excellence, is to be found in mathematics as surely as poetry. Bertrand Russell Ordinary people are not interested in poets thoughts, much less in their works, real poets on the other hand are not very interested in the fate of the inhabitants of this filthy planet! As Cecco Angiolieri put it, If I were fire, I would burn the world; if I were the wind, I would hit it with storms; if I were water, I would drown it; If I were God, I would make it sink. Carl William Brown The poet sees, at the same time and from a single point, what is visible to two, in isolation. Boris Pasternak To see a World in a Grain of Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand, And Eternity in an hour... William Blake Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility. William Wordsworth, Lyrical Ballads Poetry is a form of imaginative literary expression that makes its effect by the sound and imagery of its language. The word, often used synonymously with the term verse, is essentially rhythmic and usually metrical, and it frequently has a stanzaic structure. It is in these characteristics that the difference between poetry and other kinds of imaginative writing can be discerned. The term derives from Greek and it means "creator", and therefore "Poem" means something created; it is a vague definition, referring, like the word Verse, to literary compositions which are not in prose. Poems are expressed in a language which has been given some sense of pattern or organization to do with the sounds of its words, its imagery, syntax, or any other linguistic element. Poesis (Gk poiesis, from poiein,' to make'), thus poesis denotes 'making' in general, but in particular the making of poetry. The word came into the English language as 'poesie' in the 14th c. Later in that century the word 'poetrie' (from L. poetria) word was also introduced. They were frequently used synonymously. Eventually poetry supplanted poesy. Poetry is one of the most ancient and widespread of the arts. Originally fused with music in song, it gained independent existence in ancient times - in the Western world, at least as early as the classical era. Where poetry exists apart from music, it has substituted for lost musical rhythms its own purely linguistic one. It is this rhythmic use of language that most easily distinguishes poetry from imaginative prose, the other great division of literature, and that forms the basis of the dictionary definition of poetry as “metrical writings.” This definition does not, however, include cadenced poetry (as in the Bible) or modern free verse; both types of verse are rhythmic but not strictly metrical. Nor does it take into account the unwritten songs of many cultures past and present. It is, however, a useful starting point for considering what is now commonly meant by the word poetry. Enough poetry has come down from ancient times, however, to suggest certain enduring aspects of poetic expression, whatever the time or culture. In Egyptian hieroglyphic inscriptions of about 2600 BC are found kinds of poetry (evidently songs, although only the text, not the music, is preserved) still familiar today: laments, odes, elegies, hymns. The many songs relating to religion (an emphasis true also of such other ancient poetries as Sumerian, Assyro-Babylonian, Hittite, and Hebrew) support the hypothesis that the origins of poetry can be found in the communal expression, probably originally taking the form of dance, of the religious spirit. Thus, the dance rhythm could be marked not only by clapping, stamping, or rhythmic cries, but by chanting or otherwise intoning or singing words. Song, then, became the progenitor of both poetry and instrumental music. Work songs (a type also found in Egyptian tomb inscriptions of the 3rd millennium BC), lullabies, play songs, and other songs accompanying rhythmic activity probably developed nearly simultaneously with religious songs. The ritual aspect of poetry is still evident in the songs of many native cultures, as in this Navajo incantation for rain, translated by the Irish-born American ethnologist Washington Matthews.

A child's garden of verses Not just lyric poetry but narrative verse as well may have had its origins in the religious impulse. The earliest narrative songs, or epics, tell the myths of creation and of the gods; later epics treat the lives of godlike heroes; and still later ones deal with the lives of historical heroes. The range is from the Babylonian creation myth and the Gilgamesh epic to the Greek Iliad and Odyssey of Homer, from the Indian Ramayana and Mahabharata to the medieval French Song of Roland and the Anglo-Saxon Beowulf. It is interesting that dramatic poetry was twice born in the West, both times in a religious context: first in ancient Greek festivals, then in medieval church ritual (perhaps with the assistance of much older surviving folk rituals). As the earliest examples of poetry make clear, however, such ritual origins were expanded on very early. Not all songs existed solely for the practical purposes of propitiating the gods, smoothing the course of the soul's voyage after death, assuring the outcome of a battle, or influencing natural phenomena. When the tradition of the sung poem yielded to the written tradition—that is, when words were selected and ordered apart from melodic needs—greater complexities of content, syntax, form, and sound became possible. At the other extreme from music, sound all but vanishes in the new emphasis on the visual, or written, aspect of poetry. Compression, extensive use of imagery, and a strong emotional - and frequently sensuous - component are characteristic of the great grab bag of poems called lyric. The other major divisions of poetry, narrative (epics, ballads, metrical romances, verse tales) and dramatic (poetry as direct speech in specified circumstances), are more amenable to characterization. Lyric poetry, however, covers everything from hymns, lullabies, drinking songs, and folk songs to the huge variety of love songs and poems; from savage political satires to rarefied philosophical poetry; from verse epistles to odes; and from 2-line epigrams or 14-line sonnets to lengthy reflective lyrics and substantial elegies. The content of lyric poetry is as varied as the concerns of human beings in every period and in every corner of the globe. A clear distinction exists between poetry as pure art form and most so-called didactic poetry, which at its extreme is merely material that has been versified as an aid to memory or to make the learning process more pleasant. Where the emphasis is on communication of knowledge for its own sake or on practical instruction, the designation poetry is rather a misnomer; in his Georgics, Vergil actually tried to teach readers how to farm. Among lyric poets, the Japanese are unequalled in the extreme compression of their poetry. Two favorite forms are the tanka, which has had a continuous tradition of some 1300 years, and the haiku, which dates from the 16th century and had a marked effect on Western poets at the beginning of the 20th century. Both forms are unrhymed and in syllabic meter: The tanka is five lines of five, seven, five, seven, and seven syllables, and the haiku is three lines of five, seven, and five syllables. (Longer poems also use these five- and seven-syllable lines, and shorter poems are frequently linked into sequences or are carefully arranged in anthologies to provide a cumulative effect.) Some of the short poems by one of the major 20th-century American poets, Ezra Pound, capture much of the haiku quality. His “Fan-Piece, for Her Imperial Lord,” for instance, although based on a 1st-century BC Chinese poem (much longer in the original but still terse by Western standards), is quite Japanese in its prosody and effect. A poem generally has a very different rhythm from that of ordinary literary prose, although it is true that the two art forms exist on a continuum and metrical patterns are discernible, irregularly, in good prose. An excellent example may be found in the highly concentrated rhythmic sentences in Ulysses by the Irish novelist James Joyce. Many poems have vanished over the millennia, either because they existed only in the oral tradition and were eventually forgotten, or because so many manuscripts disintegrated or were destroyed. Some of the destruction was by natural processes; some occurred in the wanton pillaging of libraries and centers of learning; and some - as in the case of one of history's greatest lyric poets, the Greek Sappho - because of bigotry. During the Christian era Sappho's writings were condemned to be burned, and only about 700 lines remain - saved because they were included in uncondemned anthologies, or were quoted by other writers whose works survived, or because Egyptian embalmers chanced to wrap their mummies with strips of papyrus on which her verses were written. Of some other Greek writers only the names survive, but not a line of poetry. Closer to the present, the Old English epic Beowulf, the most important poem extant from Anglo-Saxon England, exists in but one manuscript; indeed, from centuries of Old English alliterative poetry only five manuscripts are known to have survived. The invention of printing in the 15th century enormously improved the chances of a book's survival, and the technological advances of the 20th century in data storage and retrieval make it theoretically possible to preserve any poem. Compared with what is extant from the last 5000 years, future generations of readers will have access to a tremendous quantity of verse from the past.

Christmas poems and aphorisms Technological advances such as the computer will probably change the shape of poetry, but not its importance, for poetry has shown itself to be as adaptable as any other art. While this is less obvious in restrictive societies, in which poetry may be perverted for propaganda purposes and where the best work often goes underground, the achievements of poets in many countries in the 20th century augur well for the future. Works by poets in the United States, Great Britain, and in Latin America and Spain - to mention only a few of the areas where poetry continues to flourish and evolve- testify to its durability. In the U.S., numerous small magazines are devoted to publishing new poetry, many universities have a “poet-in-residence” on the faculty, and poetry readings by established and new writers are a feature of cultural life on and off campus. Anyway poetry is not to be considered absolutely a superior form of creation; not necessarily therefore, more serious. Aristophanes, Chaucer, Ben Jonson, Donne, Marvell, Pope, Byron and Auden, to name just a few have all written witty and humorous Poems, and in this light mood we can hope that together with lyrics poetry will have some good chances even for the future of our world. As things are, and as fundamentally they must always be, poetry is not a career, but a mug's game. No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: He may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing. T.S. Eliot Poetry can push boundaries or employ personal experience to help understand the experience of many. It sheds light on the beautiful and the ugly and strives to understand the function of both. For these reasons and many others, poetry has been given its own holiday. World Poetry Day is held each year on March 21 to celebrate “the unique ability of poetry to capture the creative spirit of the human mind.” It was founded in 1999 by UNESCO in the hopes of promoting poetry as a way to communicate across borders and cultural differences. Since then, it has achieved just that. The event is celebrated around the world in readings and in ceremonies honoring poets of high achievement as well as in teaching the craft to aspiring writers. All in all, it is a day dedicated to poetry: an art form that has persisted for millennia and continues to enrich our understanding of the human condition to this day. Baudelaire on poetry “Be always drunken. Nothing else matters: that is the only question. If you would not feel the horrible burden of Time weighing on your shoulders and crushing you to the earth, be drunken continually. “Drunken with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will. But be drunken. “And if sometimes, on the stairs of a palace, or on the green side of a ditch, or in the dreary solitude of your own room, you should awaken and the drunkenness be half or wholly slipped away from you, ask of the wind, or of the wave, or of the star, or of the bird, or of the clock, of whatever flies, or sighs, or rocks, or sings, or speaks, ask what hour it is; and the wind, wave, star, bird, clock, will answer you: ‘It is the hour to be drunken! Be drunken, if you would not be martyred slaves of Time; be drunken continually! With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you will.’” Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867) Le Voyage - VIII O Mort, vieux capitaine, il est temps ! levons l'ancre ! Ce pays nous ennuie, ô Mort ! Appareillons ! Si le ciel et la mer sont noirs comme de l'encre, Nos coeurs que tu connais sont remplis de rayons ! Verse-nous ton poison pour qu'il nous réconforte ! Nous voulons, tant ce feu nous brûle le cerveau, Plonger au fond du gouffre, Enfer ou Ciel, qu'importe ? Au fond de l'Inconnu pour trouver du nouveau ! Les Fleurs du mal, Charles Baudelaire (1857) « L’Invitation au voyage » Mon enfant, ma sœur, Songe à la douceur D’aller là-bas vivre ensemble ! Aimer à loisir, Aimer et mourir Au pays qui te ressemble ! Les soleils mouillés De ces ciels brouillés Pour mon esprit ont les charmes Si mystérieux De tes traîtres yeux, Brillant à travers leurs larmes. Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté, Luxe, calme et volupté. Des meubles luisants, Polis par les ans, Décoreraient notre chambre ; Les plus rares fleurs Mêlant leurs odeurs Aux vagues senteurs de l’ambre, Les riches plafonds, Les miroirs profonds, La splendeur orientale, Tout y parlerait À l’âme en secret Sa douce langue natale. Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté, Luxe, calme et volupté. Vois sur ces canaux Dormir ces vaisseaux Dont l’humeur est vagabonde ; C’est pour assouvir Ton moindre désir Qu’ils viennent du bout du monde. Read the full article

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