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#thrall: poems
luthienne · 9 months
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Natasha Trethewey, from Thrall: Poems; "Miracle of the Black Leg"
[Text ID: —what knowledge haunts each body, / what history, what phantom ache?]
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llovelymoonn · 7 months
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natasha trethewey thrall: "rotation"
kofi
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penwrythe · 6 months
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Oh, noble Blade, what do you see when you look into their eyes?
Do you not see yourself, a form long forgotten?
Or do you see the meek who complained too loudly of their struggles?
What entrapped you, your eyes locked by the gaze of something you thought was long dead.
A being of flesh with a small body so fragile you can easily crush it.
What do you see, oh mighty Blade? What's is there in those eyes that sent a shudder down your pommel, keeping you frozen just for a brief moment before you tear them asunder?
It's weak. Pitiful thing, yet you fear them.
No weapon they make can harm you in any meaningful way, but by their gaze and voice alone is enough to stop you.
What happens if they all rise up together, oh wicked Blade? From your ichor, you felt the collective ever beating drums in their forms. A stirring to be free.
Who are you to deny their peoplehood?
Yet, the gaze grows weaker, it's owner weeping red.
And you find yourself regain control, heat blistering upon your sharpened metal core.
Sour Blade. Awful Blade.
Do you not recognize your brother?
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corvianbard · 2 years
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#4393
Welcome to the ball Of the golden hall, Where the king calls to all From knight to thrall To dance till we fall.
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helix-in-game · 2 years
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Thrall // DNF poem // Dream XD poem
POEM BY helix_in_game: Thrall \ n, adj. I. One who is in bondage to a lord or master. One who is oppressed and pushed into misery and distress. One of Norse descent, bound, unwillingly willingly. II. A God and his servant, a God and his lover / The thrall will make his way to the master, finding him even in the darkness / One, much too tall, the other, relatively small / He is indentured through ties of love and misguided magic / A slash through his eye, a hole in his heart / Given by his master, one whose arms wrap in white bloody bandages / You can see the universe shining through his hollow iris’ / His thrall will step forward and present his chains / His master will unlock them for a moment, not out of sorrow, but out of lust / There is misery behind both of their eyes, though only one causes the other / A dreamless night, alone in his quarters / Dream not found, error 404 / Tied to the vines of his own making / The God will call upon him one day, but his thrall will not respond / He will be gone, used, torn and indentured to another / A servant and his God, a servant and his lover. -POEM BY HELIX_IN_GAME-
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en-thrall-ed · 10 months
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In the abyss of despair, where shadows did creep, I wandered lost, drowning in sorrows so deep. But you, my sire, with love so pure and true, Brought me back to life, made my spirit renew. From the darkest corners, you plucked me away, Gently cradled my heart, vowed to never betray. In your arms, I found solace and light, Guiding me through the darkness, chasing away the night. Oh, dearest sire, my beacon in the storm, You saved me, protected me, kept me safe and warm. With every word, every touch, you mended my soul, Piece by shattered piece, you made me whole. In your presence, my fears began to fade, For you held my hand, the foundation upon which I laid. You listened to my whispers, my cries, my pleas, And showered me with love, like a gentle breeze. Through your unwavering faith, I learned to believe, That even in the depths, my heart could still achieve. You taught me to rise, to soar, and to grow, To embrace the scars, for they tell a story we know. In the tapestry of my life, you wove a thread, A tapestry of hope, of love, where darkness has fled. With you by my side, I found the strength to fight, To conquer my demons, to bask in the light. Oh, my sire, my hero, my soul's saving grace, You've given me wings, allowed me to embrace The beauty of life, the joy of being alive, For you taught me to cherish, to thrive, to strive. With deepest devotion, I offer my heart, A gift that transcends any distance or art. Forever grateful, I'll stand by your side, For you saved me from the darkness, my guide. In the tapestry of our love, our souls entwined, Bound by an unbreakable bond, one of a kind. For eternity, our spirits shall intertwine, As you, my sire, have rescued this heart of mine.
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feral-ballad · 1 year
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Natasha Trethewey, from Thrall: Poems; “Torna Atrás”
[Text ID: “how it is / that a man could love— and so / diminish what he loves.”]
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aka-indulgence · 6 months
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Illithid Kiss
So I caved. Immediately. Mind flayers are hot, bite me
Thanks to @llamagoddessofficial for showing me 1 (one) image of bg3 mind flayer and immediately going AWOOGA
Yes I made an ao3 link, I ‘ve been taken over help
(Mind flayer x Female!Reader
Mind flayer goes by he/him)
Vaussur took you in as his thrall for what feels like a long time ago. Despite being a mind flayer, for his kind, he had surprise you at every turn, acting unlike how you expected an illithid to act- like how the rest of the mind flayers in his hive acts. Lenient and forgiving with you, letting you roam with your mind free (for the most part), you find yourself unexpectedly getting attached to him.
What do you do, when all of a sudden your mind flayer ‘master’ asks you to tell him about human love? When he asks you to show him more directly? And most importantly…
Would you kiss a mind flayer?
Content warning: Mind control involved (consensual), suggestive themes, master/servant romantic relationship
—————
“Tell me, pet. What does it mean to love like a human?”
You’re snapped out of your musings at the voice, echoing both through the room and chambers in your mind. You look away from the window, from the alien society outside. Vaussur was looming behind you, a curious glow in his eyes that looked soft, somehow.
In the shadows of the room he looked ominous, almost spine-chilling. Illithid armour glinting in the faint light, while the rest of his body was merely a silhouette save for his glowing, golden irises. It reminded you of stories people back home used to tell you when you were young: to close and lock the doors at night and close the windows lest a monster sneak into the room. You didn’t know what a mind flayer was, back then, but seeing him now, he fits the stories perfectly.
Yet, he keeps surprising you with his curious mannerisms- his strange questions. You turn to face your ‘master’.
“Why do you ask?”
“As you might guess, it’s not something I can speak of amongst other illithids,” he says matter-of-factly, with a bit of humor in his eyes. “But its still something I’m personally interested in, nonetheless.”
You giggle. “What do you mean? Do you study humans?”
Mind flayers don’t have mouths. But from the way his tentacles moved, it almost looks like Vaussur was smiling at the sound of your giggle. But he answers seriously.
“I have been, as of late.” He gives you a meaningful glance. “Of course, illithids are the superior race and our ways of living are equally superior. … But I find myself becoming curious. We don’t have such customs in our society, and what I’m about to say is unbecoming for a mind flayer, but…”
You look at him curiously as he struggles to speak his words.
“I… envy you.” He whispers. “You have no idea how exquisite your mind tastes, my dear thrall. … How tender, the sweetness in every drop of thought in that delectable mind of yours, the warmth and comfort your memories radiate… You come from a world where a small, innocent, kind thing like yourself could flourish and bloom- thrive, even. How can such a world exist?”
The way he describes your mind in frightening and alien detail, reminds you of what he is- an illithid, a being that literally has a taste for brains. But even so, the way he described yours, though a little unsettling, almost sounds like a poem, words woven carefully just for you. Try as you might, it sounds like a compliment to you.
“W-well,” you stutter, staggered by his flowery words- coming from a being that has never seen much of life in the sun. “I think humans are more social than mind flayers. You communicate out of necessity, working together like a hivemind for the elder brain… right?”
“Right. You remembered what I told you? Smart pet, you prove me again and again why you’re my favorite thrall.”
“Um!” Being called a thrall wasn’t flattering, but still you feel your mind spin from the praise. “Thank- thank you. As I was saying, humans communicate and cooperate too, but we don’t do it just out of necessity. We find joy in the comfort of other humans- and other beings too, if they’ve formed a bond. We do it because we like it. We make bonds with people in our families and our communities, for companionship and… sometimes more. We can work alone, but most suffer from being solitary.”
You don’t know what kind of love Vaussur was asking you for, but you thought keeping it general was a good start at least. And the safest option, considering the other possibility.
“Interesting… not unlike illithids.” He comments.
“Really? How so?”
“As a non mind-flayer, you would not know this, but… it’s very unhealthy for a mind flayer to be completely alone.” You raise your eyebrows in surprise while Vaussur continues. “No elder brain, no other illithids, no thralls. Mind flayers are surrounded and connected by thoughts. To strip the familiar away from them… I’ve heard stories where they’ve gone mad.”
“Wait- mind flayers can go mad?”
“Of course. We are superior but not perfect- even I can admit that. Mind flayers can’t thrive in isolation, we must rely on another living being. It’s a disgrace for a mind flayer to accept it, let alone admit it- especially to admit they rely on thralls so heavily beyond labor.”
“I didn’t know that.” You remarked, seeing the illithids in a new light. Most of what you’ve heard from when mind flayers were merely myths and legends, and from what you’ve seen directly from their society indicates that they’re a self-sufficient, self-aggrandizing people. To know they could be attached to anything other than themselves, or at least to their elder brain… and Vaussur had so easily conceded this information to you.
“Wait, if it was a disgrace, why are you admitting this to me right now?”
“Because I’m no different. And it is no disgrace to say that I need you to stay with me.”
Your mouth hangs open at his honest confession, like it was factual. You try to ignore the little flips your stomach is doing, and whether or not it was a good feeling.
“I’ve also heard that there are different types of love. Platonic and romantic, I think they’re called.”
“Yes, yes there is, it’s-” you stop yourself, even as you quieten the excitement in your chest at the mention of the other type of love (to your puzzlement). “How do you know about that?”
“During my time on a ​​reconnaissance mission. I was looking for possibles hosts to implant with tadpole.”
You fail to hide the distaste on your face at the mention of ceremorphosis. If Vaussur saw it, he doesn’t react.
“I heard them talking about it. I think they were discussing whether what they felt for each other was one form or the other. Their discussion about the romantic one became particularly charged.”
He refocuses on you, and eagerly asks, “What is… romantic love?”
He was trying to sound calm and analytical but you could hear it: excitement. But why would a mind flayer be so interested in romance, of all things?
“It’s… like I said earlier,” you swallowed. You don’t know why you felt so bashful about it, like you were in a group of children talking about your parents kissing like it was a scandal. “It’s when people have more… intimate relationships with another. It’s not very different from platonic love, but different nonetheless. It’s…”
How do you explain romantic love to someone who doesn’t know what it is? How is it different from platonic love? Just having to explain what love is to him proved itself quite confusing to you, as the more you tried to grasp the definition of love to you, the more it slipped away.
“It’s like…” you grasp again, “romantic love is when you meet another person, and you feel a, a… a spark. It’s more intense than platonic love, where you just feel this… attraction to the other person, where you want to be as close to them as possible, and just their presence can make you really happy. You do things with them things you wouldn’t do with any other people you have in your life, intimate things. Someone you want to share your life with.”
You feel a little helpless as you clasp your hands together, trying to convey what you think love looks like to someone who’s never experienced it. Even with your loose explanation, Vaussur is rapt with fascination, his luminous glare unblinking. 
“I’m sorry if this is confusing to you…”
He shakes his head. “That’s more knowledge than any mind flayer knows. And… if it proves hard for you, pet, maybe you should show it to me.”
“I… show it?”
You were about to ask how, but as soon as you thought that, a word echoes in your mind.
With a kiss.
Your eyes widen, and unfortunately, it looks like your mind was loud enough for Vaussur to notice.
Without skipping a beat, he asks you, “Can you… show that to me? Kissing?”
Added with his forwardness, you fluster, but you try to calm yourself. Vaussur is a mind flayer. He’s never experienced any kind of love, let alone romantic. He really is just curious, he’s not trying to charm you… right?
You try to explain it to him.
“I c-could, but… kissing you would be more… romantic. One of the intimate things people do together to be romantic.” You said that twice. Your mind is tripping over itself. “You have to- no, you should do it with someone you care about deeply, the one you want to keep in your life. At least, that’s how you make it more meaningful.”
Vaussur doesn’t speak, not immediately. A strange look washes over his face, his brows furrowing. Subconsciously, he brings his hand to a tentacle, stroking it thoughtfully.
“I don’t see the problem. That describes how I feel about you perfectly.”
Everything goes quiet for you.
… “What?”
Vaussur doesn’t skip a beat.
“That’s how I’ve felt about you since I took you as my thrall. That is not a strange concept. I’m intimately familiar with that feeling.” He pauses. “Unless this is hesitation because I’m a mind flayer.”
“I- no that’s not it,” you say, the ice freezing your tongue melting. “It’s, I just- do you… love… me?”
“Perhaps. If that really what love is, then yes. But illithids don’t have ‘romance’ or ‘love’. So I need you to show me what it is.”
You shake your head, you can’t believe the situation you’re in, looking at the floor. The mind flayer that’s called you his thrall might very well love you- even be in love for you. People have described mind flayers as soulless, one of the defining characteristics they were often associated with, something you’d accepted as fact, until you were captured by one. Despite his illithid tendencies, the air of superiority, lack of care for non illithid lives, and strange fascination with brains; for what he is, Vaussur’s acted with more humanity than what you imagined a mind flayer was capable of.
You’ve noticed that most of your favorite qualities in him come out when you have his attention.
Though he’s always been imposing and quite frightening, you can’t believe that you’ve… thought what it’d be like to kiss him. At times when he seems to go against his natural instincts, like keeping you away from the feedings, how he praises you when he defends you from other mind flayers, how you were precious to him, and the way he held you protectively whenever you needed to cross their domain.
You’re amazed at yourself when you answer him with “... Alright.”
When you pick your head up from your musings, you startle from how close he was to you. You could see the patterns in his illithid armor, the intricate swirls and spirals, turning to complicated geometries as they reach the edge of the armor, extending from what looks like a mind flayer skull in the middle of the collar area. Long, dark purple robes extend from underneath, covering most of Vaussur’s skin. You withhold the urge to trace your fingers over the shapes.
You look up, way up. You were no stranger to this- even among mind flayers, Vaussur was particularly tall. He loomed over you, your head only reaching somewhere in the middle of his chest, and you’d have to crane your neck whenever he commanded you. But now, with the prospect of… kissing him, he seems all the more imposing. The closes thing you could to kissing him properly would probably be on one of tentacle.
“Um…”
Vaussur makes a strange sound, a sound that tickles your brain. A laugh…?
Before you could worry about what you were about to do, you feel a magic presence all around you, like someone was holding you. Your feet lift off the floor as you’re picked up by his psionic energy, bringing you face to face with him. There’s expectance in his burning gaze, something that makes you feel small and defenseless. You feel his thoughts seeping into your mind, mixing with yours: the want to be closer, of warm affection… and something possessive. You’re not sure if he’s trying to make you feel the same things for him, or if he’s simply communicating with you the way a mind flayer would with each other. It scares you a little, especially feeling his more foreign emotions- but whatever it is, you know he’s being genuine. You don’t sense a hint of malice in all the rush of feelings he’s emanating.
Despite your timidity, you can’t say those feelings were wholly unpleasant. You find you’re actually leaning into it, closing your eyes to try to feel it coursing through you. When you open them, you find the courage to brace your hands on his plated shoulders. Brilliant citrine eyes glance down at them, and you realize how small they must look to him.
Your brows furrow a little as you look for a good place to… kiss an illithid. Your fingers curl, and you try to position your head a bit to the side. You could feel him watching your every move, and you swallow.
You lean in. You could smell him, somewhat like vanilla and something else, and you’re surprised that you like it. Your lips press to the side of his face, above two of his tentacles, and kiss him. Vaussur closes his eyes and hums- you could feel him physically and mentally relax. His skin was strange, smooth and slick with a thin film of something; but you didn’t dislike it.
You pull back, parting with a little cup! as you did. Vaussur looks a little more… floaty, like he was dreaming.
“... Can you do that again?” He murmurs
You purse your lips together, hands letting go to twiddle your fingers, not quite knowing where to look.
Apparently Vaussur takes your hesitation negatively.
“I feel your nervousness, puppet. What’s the matter? … Did you not like it?”
You didn’t know mind flayers could even sound hurt, but he did, though he tried to hide it from you.
“No, no!” you stressed, “I’m just! It’s! … I’m just… shy.”
His eyes widen. You know what he must be reading from your mind right now: curiosity, interest, maybe even… fondness.
When you look at his mouth you feel a mix of emotions. Were you afraid? Were you excited…?  … No you don’t want ot think of what that meant, it’s too much. You stare for his mouth a moment longer while you try to gain the courage to kiss him.
You decided to work up to it.
Your hand reaches for a tentacle tentatively.
“Can I…? Touch your..?”
The tentacle flexes. Vaussur seems clueless as to what you want to do with it, but he lets you have it.
You give it a feather light touch, tracing a finger down its length. You realize how… sensual this feels, and you wonder if mind flayers ever enjoyed the pleasures of the body…? If they could? Vaussus gasps quietly, the tentacle reacting to your touch, twitching closer to you.
You’ve found yourself imagining what it was like to stroke his tentacles, of what would happen. Vaussur closes his eyes, letting you run your hand down. It’s smooth and slick with illithid mucous, cool to the touch, almost slippery. You think you like it. The other tentacles start to curl and sway closer around you, as if looking for your attention. You feel a sudden sense of pride fill you, at the effect you had on this mind flayer, just by touching him lightly.
His tentacles start their own exploration of you; timidly at first, but they quickly gain confidence and start to lavish you with tender caresses. One prods and brushes your cheek. Another traces along your collarbone curiously. The third free tentacle slides behind your back and holds you steady. The one you’re holding- clearly enjoying what you’re doing to it, curls around your arm.
You tittered. It’s like they had minds of their own. You wondered… what would happen if you kissed him on the tentacle?
You lift it up to you and give it a gentle peck.
Apparently, they were sensitive because as soon as you did, claws closed around your back and hips and pulled you flush against Vaussur’s chest, squeaking as he did. He lets out a deep, pleasurable sigh that turns your cheeks red while he grips you tightly, wantingly. You’d always assumed that a mind flayer’s body would feel cold, but even though his skin was covered in fluid, he was warm. Very warm.
So were you.
His golden eyes were glowing brighter than ever, his tentacles caressing you and start to float and curl languidly around you. His mouth is open before you, and your breath mixes with his.
You don’t feel fear.
“Please, my human,” he implores, “teach me. Teach me how you love.”
You didn’t hesitate this time. You felt naturally drawn to him. Willingly, you lean into him, his body, his feelings. You wrap your arms around his neck and somehow, your lips found his mouth and you started to kiss him.
As you expected, kissing Vaussur was nothing like the kisses you’ve experienced with other humans, or even other humanoids. You aren’t sure how to describe it, it felt you were kissing all around you rather than on one single spot, he surrounded you. His tentacles start to wrap you more tightly- around your head and neck. Though the thought of how vulnerable you were in this position with a mind flayer- that he could eat you so easily- did cross your mind, it only did so briefly. You were worried earlier that kissing a mind flayer with their mouths that opened four ways accompanied by lamprey teeth, meant to suction and grind into skulls might feel horrible but… you’re delighted that that wasn’t the case. The sensation of having him surround you and hold you so lovingly tightly was quite pleasant.
He hums, the sound vibrating around you. He starts floating backwards with you, slowly settling into his bed, his hands wandering, feeling you. You could feel him in your mind again, but he wasn’t intruding. It felt more like he was asking for your permission. You happily let him in, and you feel yourself cradled by his thoughts: soft, warm adoration for you.
Despite what the natural order tells you, you felt safe with him.
Vaussur had seemed confused earlier, not knowing what to do with himself while you spoiled him with your kisses, but he’d started becoming more confident, evident from the way he holds you and the tentacles’ affectionate touches. He starts taking control, sitting up a little and folding you backwards, reciprocating your kiss with new fervor, deepening it. His claws start to dig into you possessively, and you squeak, his power overwhelming you.
A flood of satisfaction floods your brain, and it isn’t yours.
I like those sounds. Vaussur’s voice purrs in your mind. Give me more.
You gasp and mewl, squirming in his hold, which only excites the illithid more, tentacles winding around your head tighter. One hand manages to stray from the tangle of limbs, only to quickly get reclaimed by his slender fingers, entwining with yours.
Don’t be scared, sweet human. He teases diabolically, I promise I won’t eat that delicious mind of yours. You’re safe with me.
You don’t know how long he kept you like that, hungrily taking your mouth while his hands and tentacles wander. When he was finally sated, Vaussur gently pries his tendrils off your face, and lets you go. You take a gasp of air, the blood in your head slowly draining away, and you cool down. You could feel warm imprints on your face where his tentacles and mouth were. Already, you find yourself missing the closeness you shared, his warm mouth on yours.
It felt like he was sucking your face in the best ways.
… You feel scandalized by your own thoughts, and you cover your mouth bashfully.
“I felt that.”
Damn it!
Vaussur chuckles, his eyes flickering with smugness. His gaze wanders over your face, like he was admiring his ‘work’.
He looks happy, eyes crinkling at you.
“Just like I promised. Your mind is still yours, untouched, undigested. Though… there are marks on your face. I rather like it.”
You don’t know how red your face is right now, fingers scrambling on it as if you could see it better that way.
“W-what?”
He chuckles again, and your frantic thoughts stop when a finger brushes your cheek.
“Thank you. For showing me that, puppet.”
Slowly, you smile, small and demure. “Your… welcome. Thank you for keeping my mind safe. I…” you swallowed, laughing nervously, “I liked it.”
Oh. Oh, he liked that.
“I did too. Immensely. You’re… incredible.” He praises you. “I would not be opposed to it if we did it again.”
You’re suddenly intimately aware of the fact that you were on his lap, practically straddling him, his arms keeping you close. He’s just invited you to another kiss, and you… like that idea. Sheepishly, you say the same.
“I… I wouldn’t either.”
You’re hoping you’ll get to kiss him again soon. Maybe more.
He lays you down beside him, and as he presses the top of his tentacles to your head, you realize it was his attempt at giving you a peck. You smile, and you instinctively curl into him, tentacles floating around you protectively.
Rest, human. He urges. You’ve done a lot today. Sleep.
You let him mentally compel you. It was nice, being able to sleep whenever you wanted without having to toss and turn before hand. You feel sleep quickly take you and your eyes fall close.
Vaussur stays up a bit longer after you, admiring his pretty ‘thrall’ that he feels lucky to have found. His fingers comb through your hair and behind your ear.
You’re… extraordinary.
You smile in your sleep as response. He thinks that might be the prettiest thing he’s seen in his illithid life: you being happy while you were with him.
He doesn’t think these soft, tender feelings are natural for a mind flayer. He wonders if he inhabits a human body.
You curl a little, trying to escape the chill, and Vaussur pulls a blanket up to you, and covers you. He needs to rest soon too, to shed his armor and sink into bed with you by his side.
His small… cute… vulnerable little human.
Whatever he may be in his previous life before the ceremorphosis, one thing is clear to him now.
He loves you.
And no one else can have you.
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raayllum · 4 months
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— Natasha Trethewey, from Thrall: Poems; “Torna Atrás”
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jiaoliqiao · 7 months
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"And why does the past come back like this: looming, a human figure formed—"Natasha Trethewey, Thrall: Poems (insp)
↳ @userdramas event 10: emotions — li lianhua + coming to terms with his past
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taiturner · 2 hours
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@yellowjacketsnetwork event 01: dynamics VAN PALMER & LOTTIE MATTHEWS ft. Natasha Trethewey, Thrall: Poems; "Mythology"
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luthienne · 8 months
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Natasha Trethewey, from Thrall: Poems; "Mythology"
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april-is · 26 days
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April 4, 2024: Coyotes by the Eliot House, Glyn Maxwell
Coyotes by the Eliot House Glyn Maxwell
Tom I’ve a question and all I have is a question. There are lots of coyotes near this old house you lived in. I didn’t expect them here in the green Northeast. Figured them things of rocks and the high sierras. There goes another one bounding for the bushes. First time, I thought: that’s a dog acting really strangely. But it didn’t turn back for approval or get distracted by an insignificant thing, as a dog will tend to. No it was gone by now, it had made me nervous. They’re the size of a family dog but they’re on their own. Folks round here reassure me there’s no danger unless you attack their cubs so I’ll shelve my plan to attack their cubs, chrissakes. Tom, Tom, apologies, I have loved my time in your house.
Last night at dinner we heard a siren wailing off in the town and all of them started howling, all the coyotes for miles around in the bushes aghast, alerting their young, alarming their old, rising and heightening, matching its pitch and power, one near the blue spinning light in its thrall, uniquely bound by this unpredicted visitation. Then after the siren faded they packed it in. What do they think that is, that demands of them and gets of them their love or their terror or both? What do we poets do when we know it’s nothing? Not for them or against them or about them. Tom, I had to be here to ask that question. I expect I’ll have to be gone before you answer.
--
More animal poems.
More poems responding to T.S. Eliot, my problematic fave:
Waste Land Limericks, Wendy Cope
Old Women in Eliot Poems, David Wright
Today in:
2023: I Know Someone, Mary Oliver 2022: I’m Going Back to Minnesota Where Sadness Makes Sense, Danez Smith 2021: In the Morning, Before Anything Bad Happens, Molly Brodak 2020: Interesting Times, Mark Jarman 2019: The accident has occurred, Margaret Atwood 2018: Little snail, Anonymous 2017: Poem for My Son in the Car, Jennifer K. Sweeney 2016: Postcard to Baudelaire, Thomas Lux 2015: What The Dead Tell Us About Charon, Ferryman Of The Dead, Brett Ortler 2014: The Trees, Philip Larkin 2013: A Small, Soul-Colored Thing, Paisley Rekdal 2012: Last Supper, Charles Wright 2011: I Said to Poetry, Alice Walker 2010: Disgraceland, Mary Karr 2009: What To Say To A Bear, Ionna Warwick 2008: In The City of Light, Larry Levis 2007: the mockingbird, Charles Bukowski 2006: Part of Eve’s Discussion, Marie Howe 2005: I thank You God for most this amazing, e.e. cummings
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muwitch · 7 months
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Natasha Trethewey, from Thrall: Poems; “Mythology”
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corvianbard · 1 year
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#5192
Silvery maiden Of the black hall, Beckon every star In your thrall When the golden lord Begins again to fall.
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beaft · 7 months
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october 14th
today's spooky poem is "la belle dame sans merci" by keats. what can i say. it's a classic. it's got dream-ghosts, faery women (well, one), and an ambiguous ending - what more could anyone ask for? read more about it here.
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,        Alone and palely loitering? The sedge has withered from the lake,        And no birds sing.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,        So haggard and so woe-begone? The squirrel’s granary is full,        And the harvest’s done.
I see a lily on thy brow,        With anguish moist and fever-dew, And on thy cheeks a fading rose        Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,        Full beautiful—a faery’s child, Her hair was long, her foot was light,        And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,        And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love,        And made sweet moan
I set her on my pacing steed,        And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing        A faery’s song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,        And honey wild, and manna-dew, And sure in language strange she said—        ‘I love thee true’.
She took me to her Elfin grot,        And there she wept and sighed full sore, And there I shut her wild wild eyes        With kisses four.
And there she lullèd me asleep,        And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!— The latest dream I ever dreamt        On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,        Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci  Thee hath in thrall!’
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,        With horrid warning gapèd wide, And I awoke and found me here,        On the cold hill’s side.
And this is why I sojourn here,        Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is withered from the lake,        And no birds sing.
—John Keats
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