Love in a Time of Climate Change by Craig Santos Perez

And here are the other halloween themed pics of my OCs!

The first is a very old David from 2015. the 2nd is David and Fran doodle from 2017, then we got Oktoberfest Ulrich and David (not halloween, but relevant!), also from 2017. Then Calhoun, Pome, Rodrigo, and Vivek from 2020! The Hermes Titus is also from 2020.

This catches me up with Repost-ober, and I hope people had a nice time looking at some of the older stuff with me. :P

Hey I wrote a poem about childhood trauma. It's in unadorned iambic pentameter and it's called "If Your Family Tree Does Not Fork, You Might Be A Redneck." Tw for, well, that type of stuff.

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Gone away now is the fair green summer  And gone now is the harvest and its fruits  Weeping lies the daughter of my people   And my poor heart is sundered with her grief 

Is there no balm in Gilead? Are there  No healing words, and no physician there?  Is there no hope or help for this poor wretch? 

-

Twenty long years ago, I sit and think: The drive up 61 to Holly Bluff  Is agony; I feel his eyes on me  And the unspoken question in the air  Lies like a shroud between us now and I  Want him to know and hear and comprehend  And maybe he would know what we could do  And with each mile I turn and try to speak  And each word feels like ash inside my mouth  As my confession dies within my throat  So we head north into the autumn woods  While wicked silence festers in the air;  Youth hunting season starts today, you see. 

There is a shadow over what was home  There was corn here, but it’s all kudzu now  Along with darker weeds like nightshade dreams  And scarlet jimson nightmares where it waits  As once she waited in a darkened room  To stoop and strike and have a bit of play  At things nice people just don’t talk about  And, sure, nobody talked, but there was still  That wretched shadow growing like a weed. 

Sometimes I can, in half-remembered dreams,  Still walk beneath the pines along the ridge  With Pawpaw’s rifle resting in my hands  And that same old black dog there at my side  Looking for squirrels, we said, but we both knew  We were just walking in the morning air  Along the west ridge headed toward the creek  But that’s all gone; it’s subdivisions now  Split up and passed around like Pawpaw’s guns 

And I think: I suppose they might as well  Tear up the kudzu and the johnson grass  And make it new. The old was fallow and  No wholesome crop could spring up from that ground.  Even in life, no-one lived there but ghosts. 

Hades to Persephone, Lee Ann Schafer.

Haiku

You make me feel like 'Dreams' by Fleetwood Mac on a fresh Sunday morning

11:19 AM 4/2/24

This is Elysia Astrum, my another OC from Pomel.

She is from a family that was serving for a villain of Pomelian history for centuries. Elysia was a witch huntress and is known as the strongest swordsman of Pomel. When her girlfriend Erna Fuchsis was killed by Elysia's coworkers and revived by a witch, Elysia left her job. Though witches wanted Elysia to join their organization after that, Elysia refused again and again. She knew that this organization is fighting against the greatest evil of her world, but she couldn't work with them. Sometimes people think that Witch organization is made of saints, but there are also monsters who committed crimes without second thought. Elysia could forgive them her own injury cause she got it in a battle, but she couldn't forget that some witches from the organization used innocent people for their experiments

Hawthorn Pomes

Vibrant red pomes on a hawthorn branch, adding a splash of colour amongst the trees in Glapthorn Cow Pastures.

Ok uh. Question. Was yuu wearing underwear in the first and third chapters of period drama? Like when floyd pulled the blanket off her or riddle lifted it up to check the blood? Or was she just bleeding through her underwear and everyone else connected the dots?

🦚

...

I'm sorry to say everyone, Yuu is really free bleeding with no barriers. The logic is why bother with panties when it's getting soaked with blood within the hour anyway? Plus it's even more uncomfortable to have soaked panties on all day than just...bleeding onto a towel directly. It's mostly by the Gods (Me) that everyone has just seen bloody thighs and not Yuu's whole pussy. lots of shirt dress PJ's for Yuu until they FINALLY get some period care in the Pomefiore part

I promise, Yuu will be getting her situation not only addressed but dealt with in the next two parts.

With an Irish Shamrock (1827)

From the region of zephyrs, the Emerald isle,      The land of thy birth, in my freshness I come, To waken this long-cherished morn with a smile,      And breathe o’er thy spirit the whispers of home. O welcome the stranger from Erin’s green sod;   I sprang where the bones of thy fathers repose, I grew where thy free step in infancy trod,   Ere the world threw around thee its wiles and its woes.          But sprightlier themes          Enliven the dreams, My dew-dropping leaflets unfold to impart:          To loftiest emotion          Of patriot devotion, I wake the full chord of an Irishman’s heart. The rose is expanding her petals of pride,      And points to the laurels o’erarching her tree; And the hardy Bur-thistle stands rooted beside,      And sternly demands;—Who dare meddle wi’ me? And bright are the garlands they jointly display,      In death-fields of victory gallantly got; But let the fair sisters their trophies array,      And show us the wreath where the shamrock is not!              By sea and by land,              With bullet and brand, My sons have directed the stormbolt of war;              The banners ye boast,              Ne’er waved o’er our host, Unfanned by the accents of Erin-go-bragh! Erin mavourneen! dark is thy night;      Deep thy forebodings and gloomy thy fears; And O, there are bosoms with savage delight      Who laugh at thy plainings and scoff at thy tears! But, Erin mavourneen, bright are the names      Who twine with the heart-vein thy fate in their breast; And scorned be the lot of the dastard, who shames      To plant, as a trophy, this leaf on his crest!              Thrice trebled disgrace              His honours deface, Who shrinks from proclaiming the isle of his birth!              Though lowly its stem,              This emerald gem Mates with the proudest that shadow the earth!

-Charlotte Elizabeth Tonna (1790–1846)

Autumn whispers it’s coming to me

Like half remembered dreams

And hazy memories

While the crips air beckons

I reach toward September’s end

Eagerly, stretching toward tomorrow

Whispering “I am ready”

hollow could us should go

I have

Essence Of Poet

In my blood;

I want to be read.

I enjoy writing poems,

I'll never show them to you, but about whom they are written,

that may be clear to you.

I feel so terribly strange,

I don't know if it's bad but it's strong.

The heart just beats, beats so terribly hard,

I don't know if I should scream for help...

So many words in my heart,

or not even words, how crazy I feel now.

It's so hard to say out loud what I feel,

but, I'm afraid that if I say that...

you won't be able to empathize with me.

calling it

5 i am calling it. i am still calling it. i am still calling it out. i am still calling it grief. i’m calling it.