Tuesday, 29 March 2011


This is my short story that I wrote as part of my Fictional Writing module, which I am now currently illustrating it for my Creativity II module. I am quite proud of this piece as it is darker than the usual things I write, or believe I like to write. However, instead of explaining it all I'd rather you read it and work it out for yourself.


I don’t know her. The only reason why I know she or the necklace exists is because of work events. I see her at business formals, the Christmas Balls, and even charity parties. And each time she’s wearing the necklace. I wouldn’t have said that the necklace, a heart shaped locket to be precise, was anything particularly beautiful or even too expensive, but it always caught my eye. The truth of the matter was I thought it rather ugly. It was silver, but very slightly tarnished around the edges, implying a cheap quality silver. The pattern was in no way intricate, just a simple swirl of flowers around the heart’s point. But for some strange reason I could not take my eyes off it. 

Oh, I didn’t want it though; I had no urge to steal it from around her neck. In fact, it probably looked more enchanting because it was around her neck. Its chain glimmered like a spider web on a dewy morning across her collar bone. With grace the necklace fell to lie between the woman’s breasts, leading everyone to desire more. But I did not desire this lady, though I had suspicions of those who did. This woman was not especially beautiful to me but there was something about her that drew men to her.  It could have been her easy smile, her shining eyes or the way her body moved as she glided across the dance floor. However, it was irrelevant to me; it was not these things I cared for. I only wished to know more about this necklace. Why was this woman, who many considered to be extraordinary, wearing such an ordinary necklace? 

After these balls and dances I would lie at night and dream only of the necklace. It was always there in my mind, reaching out to my innermost thoughts, spreading its mystery to the rest of my mind. Was it given to her by a lover? No. No lover would give her such a cheap looking necklace. Then, did she find it somewhere? In the attic maybe? Or was it an heirloom of some sorts? But why would she wear it to fine balls and special occasions when it looked so battered? Someone of her profession would be able to buy real jewels of finery and would not need to wear a scrappy trinket like the locket. Why then did this woman wear such a necklace? Why?

These thoughts plagued my mind for the many weeks between office events when I could finally see the necklace again. Sometimes there were long stretches of time when I would never see it, and the thoughts began to fade. I could think clearly again without the image of the necklace burning into my mind’s eye.  Then another event. Another chance to see it again. It was the same as it always was. Tarnished. Plain. Strung around her neck. I tried to stay away, I tried not to look but it pulled me towards it. Every time I found myself dancing nearer and nearer to her, just to see it more closely.  It was calling to me, come closer, come nearer. Each step of the dance was like a beat of a heart and the call of the necklace. It urged me, pleaded with me, begged me. I was nearly there, I could see the little flowers; they seemed to grow out as if reaching for me. And then it was gone; swept away by another song. I had been so close.

The harder I tried to resist the allure of the necklace, the more I wanted it. I wanted to know where it came from, when it was made, who it had belonged to before. But more than anything I wanted to know what was inside. All the time my dreams were filled with its presence. Faceless people wearing the heart-shaped locket closing in on me. Each time they got nearer and nearer. Then one night, I grabbed the chain from around their necks and just as I was about to tear the necklace open, I awoke. Never before had I felt so deeply disappointed.

Only now the dreams had spread to my waking life. I didn’t need to wait for the balls for I saw the necklace everywhere I went. It filled shop windows, rested around ladies’ necks, and even grew on trees. I could never escape it, no matter where I went.

Even though my desire for the necklace was so strong I never dared to ask anyone about it. They wouldn’t understand. My yearning for the necklace was that of my own. The woman especially would not understand. No matter how close I got to the necklace, no matter how fast my heart beat for it, I would not let the woman notice. I’d seen her type before. Stuck up. Rich. Better than everyone else. Oh, yes. I’d seen her type before. No, the woman would never know of my desire for the necklace. She wouldn’t understand. No one would understand.

A party was coming up, and I could barely contain excitement. Another chance to see the necklace. See it glistening in the lowlight, its tarnished silver teasing me, the chain mocking me, the pattern burning my eyes. Oh, I’d see it again tonight.

As soon as I walked into the room I saw it. It leapt out at me. It seemed bigger and brighter than ever before. I couldn’t look away. But I noticed the looks I got. They thought they knew what I was looking at. I could feel their pitying gazes. But I was nothing like them. I wasn’t weak and pathetic. It was the necklace I desired. If only I could reach out and pluck it from her neck, as if it were a sweet and delicious fruit. I dare not look away, lest it should disappear and I would not see it again. My eye was trained upon it. To the right. One step back. To the left. One step forward. It never left my sight.

That night my dreams were more vivid than ever. The necklace was in my hands. It was heavy and cold, like a hunk of ice. My fingers trembled as I reached for the tiny clasp keeping the two halves together. Click. It opened. My eyes drank in the sight. Oh. Oh yes, it was beautiful. I understood now. This was why the woman wore such a necklace. It was for all the beauty inside. Oh, because it was just that. Stunning. Amazing. Fantastic! I woke up. 

There was no turning back. I needed the necklace.

I waited. Another party wouldn’t be for a while. But that was alright.

 I could wait.

This would give me time to plan. To plot. But that was fine.

I had to wait.

Another party had to be soon. I had my idea.
I could not wait.

It was torture. There was not going to be a party. I had waited and still no party. I needed there to be a party. I needed the release. I needed the necklace. Oh, the necklace. I had seen its beauty. I couldn’t go back now. I couldn’t look at the world in the same way. I needed it. I needed it to live.

Days. Weeks. Months. I needed a party. I needed to see it. I needed the necklace. I needed. I needed. I need…A party! At last. Oh yes. This was it. This was the time. I was going to get it. Nothing would stop me. Not this time.

The room was full. People bustled all around me, dancing their little dances, oblivious to my desire. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Tonight was the night. But, wait. Where was it? I couldn’t see it. My lungs tightened and my heart was thudding against my ribs. Where was it? It had to be here. It had to be. Why wasn’t it here?  Please. It had to be here. I had waited. I had waited. Please.

Oh. Now I see it. Yes, it’s there around her neck as usual. It’s nestled snuggly between her breasts and I saw them looking at her again. Their pathetic gazes. Their salivating mouths. It was disgusting. People like them would never see the bigger picture, but I could. I knew what real beauty was. It was right in front of me, lying with the undeserving. That woman thought she knew beauty. She thought she was it. And so did all these pathetic excuses for human beings. It repulsed me. But I had my plan. This was the night. The lure of the necklace pulled at me once more. I felt it in my gut and I knew it was definitely tonight. I breathed deeply and for once I walked right up to the woman. I asked her to dance. She said yes with her tragic smile. I didn’t care what she did; all I wanted was the necklace. It was right there. The closest I had ever been before. I could just drop my hand to her chest and I would have it. Just a few inches. She was talking to me. I didn’t care. I wanted the necklace. That’s all I could hear. It’s beat. In my head. In my chest. It pounded in my skull.




 I needed it now. I couldn’t wait. I looked up. She was still talking. I nodded, as if interested in her pitiful life. I just wanted the necklace. That’s all I wanted. All I needed.

Suddenly, she dropped my hand, thanked me, and left to dance with another. And away the necklace went with her. I was crushed. I felt my insides collapse. I had been so close. I could have had it.  I wasted my time. I needed it. I had to have it. I had to. My head hurt as I forced myself to keep in an outraged scream. I couldn’t be around these people. They were pathetic. Useless. Scum. I retreated to the darkened hallway.

I needed the necklace. But it seemed I was doomed to only ever dream about it. I would never have it. It was futile. These thoughts plagued my mind and deafened me to rest of the world. Then: Beat. Beat. Beat. I looked up. It was there, walking away from the noise of the party and into the depths of the hallway. This was my chance. It was only me, her, and the necklace. I followed her. The beat of the necklace drew me towards her. Louder and louder. Faster and faster. I was so close. She hadn’t noticed me; she carried on walking, oblivious. I reached out for her, the softness of her hair brushing against my fingers. The beat was so loud; I could hear nothing else, not even my own breathing. Nothing but the beat. Louder and louder! Faster and faster! Beating! Beating! Beating! It’s all I could hear. Could she hear it? She had to. How could she not?

She turned around. I stopped. Scared. Her mouth opened, surely she was screaming, but all I could hear was the beating. I didn’t know what to do. Beat. The beat was so strong. I could see it between her breasts. Beat. It was right there. Inches away. Beat. I could see it moving with each beat. I reached out for it, suddenly unable to control myself. Beat. I lunged. Her eyes bulged and her mouth widened. I grabbed the necklace. She grabbed at my arms. Beat. I pulled on the chain. She twisted; trying to escape my grip. Beat. I pulled tighter. I was finally holding it. It was just like my dreams. Beat. It was in my hands. It burned, but I savoured every sensation it gave me. Beat. I tugged, yanked, jerked. She struggled, thrashed, writhed. Beat. I had the necklace and I would never let it go, no matter what.

And then, everything went still. Her eyes were open but her mouth was slack. The necklace fell from her neck and now lay perfectly in my hand. Its flowered pattern blossomed and the tarnished silver seemed brighter than ever. It was warmer than it had been in my dream, and much lighter. But it was mine. Mine. I needed it. I finally had it. Mine!

My fingers trembled as I reached for the tiny clasp keeping the two halves together. Click. It was open. I stared.

My hands shook. I heard a shout. The locket slipped from my grasp. It landed between the woman’s breasts. They were pale and unmoving, with none of their usual blush. I stared at the necklace; it was as dead as she was. Suddenly, two large hands grabbed me from behind. There was more shouting. Yelling. Screaming. I didn’t care. The locket, it was… it was… I had needed the locket. I had needed its beauty. I needed it. Now I had nothing. I was as empty. Empty.


Tuesday, 22 March 2011

Learning Japanese

This is a short poem, more a jumble of words really, that was inspired by my sister's Japanese flashcard poster things. While visiting my sister at University, she had many sheets of paper with lots of Japanese characters on them, and underneath their English translation. However, two Japanese characters together may make a new word, and these words she had written on in felt tip. It was those words that make this poem:

Learning Japanese

Film Photo Music
Marriage Schedule
Job Drive Commence
Exam Interview to Pass
Prepare Consult Contract Inform
Special Express
Engine Care Warn
Healthy Fine Famous and Kind
Park Number
Practice Study Research and Question
Politics Economy History

Thursday, 17 March 2011

The Brothers Canis

This was a piece I did last semester. After going on a trip to the local Wolf Sanctuary we were told to write a piece about wolves and enter it into a competition. The winner would have their story published in the Wolf Sanctuary's magazine. Now, I was pretty excited for this as I really wanted some work published. So, although I was uninspired at the actual Wolf Sanctuary I came up with a story at home and I was pleased with it. Unfortunately, I didn't win. But never mind, I have another competition to enter this semester too. So anyway, here's my piece.

The Brothers Canis

In the time when Gods and Goddesses watched over the world and its inhabitants, there were three brother Gods, called the Canis brothers. Lupus, the eldest, was God of Strength. Rufus, the second eldest, was God of Cunning. Then there was Lupus-Lupus, the youngest, who was God of Stealth. These three brothers were incredibly close and never did anything without one and other. The other Gods and Goddesses thought them immature and trouble makers, and they weren’t wrong. The Canis brothers were definitely mischievous. 

Now, the Canis brothers were particularly interested in mankind. They looked on from above and laughed at the unassuming humans wandering around the world. To them mankind were quite insignificant and they loved to play games with them. They believed that mankind were too quiet, and if anything, a little boring. The Gods and Goddesses’ job was to keep the world of mankind peaceful. Humans never fight, never argue, and never kill. The world was still young and plentiful, so why would they fight?

However, the Canis brothers didn’t enjoy this quiet life of the humans. So, Lupus being the oldest would dare the younger two to play with the humans. The two brothers would agree, using their godly powers to begin arguments, cause confusion, and even start fights. The brothers found this good fun but their godly kin would punish them if they ever caught them. They would apologise, of course, but then laugh between themselves later on.

Only, one day, the Canis brothers took their dares too far. The two younger brothers grew weary of always being dared to trick the humans, so decided to dare their brother instead. They thought to make their dare especially challenging; so challenging that he would have to refuse and they could tease him forever.

“Oh, dear brother,” Rufus said, “brother Lupus-Lupus and I have a dare for you.”

“Yes,” Lupus-Lupus continued, “one so daring that you’ll never do it.”

Naturally Lupus was intrigued. He thought himself better than his two brothers, and was certain he could do it. Rufus pointed towards the earth.

“Seeing as the humans are so dull and dreary all the time, we thought maybe you should use some of your powers to really cause some trouble. Give the humans the power of your strength; enough strength to kill.”

The two brothers sniggered; sure that he wouldn’t accept. How could he? That much godly power on humans was wrong.

“I’ll do it!” Lupus exclaimed. He felt powerful knowing that he could control the humans in such a way. Hearing this worried the two brothers; they had been certain that he would refuse.

“But brother,” Lupus-Lupus complained, suddenly scared, “you can’t really do it. The other Gods would be furious; you can’t actually share your powers with a human, that’s too much for humans to take. You can’t give humans the power of the Gods.”

“You dared me, and you know the rules; you can’t refuse a dare.”

And so looking down upon the earth he shared some of his strength with the humans. The humans become instinctive, intuitive, and deadly. They suddenly wanted to fight, and hunt, and kill. They wanted to seek down their prey and destroy it with the deadly precision of a God. The world of mankind was no longer a peaceful place.

“Oh brother,” Lupus-Lupus whimpered, “that was too much; way too much.”

The Canis brothers shivered as the air around them buzzed with anger; they knew they were in big trouble this time.

Ursus the leader of the Gods appeared before the three brothers, his rage apparent. The Gods and Goddesses were more angered than they had ever been before.

“What have you done, Lupus?” Ursus boomed, pointing towards the earth, “You have given the humankind powers that were only meant for the Gods. Not only that, it is a gift that could very well destroy the world.” His wrath was huge and plentiful, and this time the Canis brothers really were sorry. Especially Lupus.

“I didn’t mean it, my brothers – they dared me to do it.” Lupus dragged his brothers to him; wanting them to share the blame and punishment of the Gods. But Ursus was not impressed.

“You three brothers have always been trouble and now it is time for the ultimate punishment,” the three brothers shook with fear. “For daring you brother, Rufus and Lupus-Lupus, you will be punished. And for accepting this dare, and destroying the peace in the world, Lupus, you will be punished too. You will all be turned into the troublesome beasts that you are and sent to the opposite sides of the world, to roam alone for all eternity.”

At these words the three brothers were transformed into four legged creatures, with sharp teeth, deadly claws, and the strength, cunning and stealth of the Gods. They were flung across the earth by the rageful

So, if you ever hear a wolf howling at the moon, it may not be a wolf but really a God. It is one of the Canis brothers howling loudly to let his brothers know that he is still searching for them.   

Monday, 14 March 2011

Molly Day-Dreamer Sketches

Seeing as part of 'The Dream' is to write my own book and then also illustrate it, I am always doodling my characters on any piece of paper I find. So, lately, after having posted my Molly story I cannot stop drawing her. I imagine that this story is a children's book so the drawings are quite child-like, Molly actually looks like a doll!
Here are two of my sketches so far: 

Concept art for Molly and Animals

Concept for Molly and Grandmother

What do you think? Is she looking cute? Admittedly the winter one is a bit random, I just wanted to draw her with a coat on.

Saturday, 12 March 2011

Molly Day-Dreamer

I thought I'd go for a change this time and post a story. This story was written at the end of year 12 or the beginning of year 13, I can't really remember. I only remember having to write a piece inspired by Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. I actually did a lot of work based on this story during my last years at college and it was all very enjoyable. Anyway, here's the piece that I did, I hope you like it!

nce upon a time there was a little girl called Molly, who daydreamed all the time. She would daydream while she was at school, she daydreamed while she ate dinner and she even daydreamed while she was daydreaming! All her daydreaming earned her the nickname from her parents of Molly-daydreamer.

But Molly did not mind. Molly loved her daydreams. She could escape to magical worlds whilst she did the dullest of things. When she had to clean her room she just imagined that instead she was a lonely dragon who had to hide all its treasures from the greedy knight. Or when she had to wash the dishes she pretended that each plate and bowl was a boat she had to save them from a terrorising flood.

One summer morning her Mother asked her to go through the small woods by their house to take a freshly baked cake to her Grandmother. Molly thought this was an incredibly dull thing to do. Her Grandmother was so old she could barely hear so she yelled everything; and what was worse was that she despised Molly’s daydreaming. Nonetheless, Molly grudgingly took the basket with the cake in it and set off through the woods. Her Mother waved her goodbye.

Molly liked the woods though. In fact she loved the woods; it was so peaceful and quiet, and she had all her best daydreams between these trees. She followed the winding path through the woods at a dreamy pace, swinging the basket as she went. Her eyes wandered over the trees and she smiled and was pleased when the trees smiled and waved their branches back. The little birds flying about soon became fairies and the sleepy hedgehogs stood on their hind legs and called, ‘Good morning!’ 

She followed the path for a long time, waving hello to all the wood’s inhabitants before the path suddenly came to an end.

She was lost.

‘Oh, this is really no good,’ she muttered to herself. She peered around but the path was gone altogether. She did not know which way she had come from or which way to go. She looked to the trees for answers but their smiling faces had left, leaving her lost and lonely. Molly sat down on a mossy tree stump and sighed.

‘It looks like I’m lost for good; no one shall ever find me all the way out here.’ She sighed again. ‘I will freeze during the night and become as still as a statue…perhaps then I should get into a good pose, I wouldn’t be a very interesting statue just sitting here with a gloomy face.’ So Molly put down her basket full of cake and stood on the stump on one foot balancing like a ballerina a huge grin on her face. She had always wanted to be a ballerina. She held the pose for what seemed like an eternity before her jaw began to ache and her leg shook and wobbled and she fell off the stump with a thump. She sat up and blew her hair out of her face, rubbing her bottom.

‘Well, that was certainly no good. Oh! What am I going to do?’ Molly wailed, feeling rather miserable for herself. But a shuffling noise beside her drew her out of her misery. She looked over her shoulder and saw a small furry squirrel poking into her basket full of cake.

‘Mmm, this will certainly be good for the party,’ It said to itself, licking its whiskers.

‘Excuse me, but what do you think you’re doing?’ Molly asked.

The squirrel looked up in alarm; it snatched up the basket and ran off further into the woods.

‘Hey!’ Molly called out, ‘That’s my cake!’ and she set off after the cake stealing squirrel.

The trees began to thin out and the sun shone through the leaves, and the bird-fairies fluttered above her singing their happy little songs. Molly puffed and panted as she followed the squirrel around another tree. She suddenly came to a halt as she saw a large table in a sunny clearing. Molly looked at the table in awe. Hundreds of tiny china teacups on equally tiny saucers were laid out on the table; some much too small for even a baby to use. There were even plates of minuscule cookies and cupcakes all with different types of multi-coloured frosting. Molly swiped her finger across the top of one and popped it in her mouth. It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. She was about to eat the whole thing when she saw right in the middle of the table was her Grandmother’s cake. No one seemed to be around, not even the cake stealing squirrel, so she reached across the large table to retrieve her cake. 

‘That’s our cake!’ cried a squeaky voice from her feet. Molly leapt back in fright. She looked down at the ground and saw two little white mice stood on their hind legs and they twitched their noses crossly at her. They scurried up the large table leg so they were face to face with Molly.

‘If you wanted some cake you only had to ask.’ The other mouse squeaked, ‘But you’ll have to wait anyway, the other guests have to come first.’ It pointed towards a chair, its skinny tail flicking irritably.

Molly sat down on the spindly wooden chair and waited for the other guests to arrive. From the size of the table and the amount of cups, saucers and chairs she guessed that there would be quite a lot of them. She jumped when a badger walked out of the undergrowth with a small bowler hat perched on his black and white head. More animals emerged from the woods, each wearing a small yet detailed item of clothing. Molly especially liked the little red waistcoats the Robins wore. She watched with a pleasant smile on her face as they all pulled up a chair and chattered away to each other.

Eventually, the table was full of excited animals and they were allowed to eat. By now Molly had forgotten that the cake was actually for her Grandmother; she was so excited and hungry that she just could not wait to have a slice of it. As she reached for her piece of cake she saw the bushy end of a squirrel’s tail peeking out from under the table. Molly reached under the table and tugged on it; the squirrel let out a squeal.

‘Ouch! What was that for?’ the squirrel asked indignantly, this time poking its head out.

‘You stole my cake,’ Molly replied just as indignant.

‘Oh yes, I remember. You’re the strange little girl stood on the tree stump doing some kind of odd dance.’

‘I wasn’t dancing!’ Molly cried, just a bit embarrassed.

‘Well whatever you were doing, it didn’t look like you were going to eat the cake any time soon.’ The little squirrel replied, and with a furry grin he grabbed a cupcake off the table and scampered up a tree to enjoy his treat.

Molly huffed. Now what would she give to her Grandmother? Her Mother would be cross too if she found out she had let some woodland creatures eat it all. One of the rabbits next to her noticed her anxiety.

‘Cheer up! We have a lot more cake to eat and I think I heard Fox say that there was going to be dancing later.’ The rabbit babbled happily. Molly thought that dancing sounded like a lot of fun and ate her cake with a little more cheer.

After all the cupcakes and cookies were finished, the woodland creatures began to dance around and singly merrily. Molly joined in, sometimes showing the animals a new sort of human dance. They all laughed as the deers tried to copy Molly’s dance but just fell over their own legs.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and the shadows stretched across the woodland ground when Molly remembered why she had even come to the woods today.

‘Oh, no! I’m going to be late! I should have been at my Grandmother’s house ages ago!’ Molly cried. All the animals looked upon her sadly and called out goodbyes as she grabbed her now empty basket and stumbled through the foliage. Molly did not know where she was but amazingly she quickly found the winding path back to town.

The singing of the fairy-birds faded into quiet chirping and the tree’s branches barely moved in the breeze. Molly followed the path feeling a bit lonely, and a bit sad that she had to leave the party so abruptly.

When she arrived at her Grandmother’s house on the other side of the woods the sun had set and a cool wind tugged on Molly’s hair. She knocked on the door loudly and her deaf Grandmother took nearly five minutes to answer.

‘Oh, did my dear little Granddaughter bring me some cake?’ She asked loudly, spying the basket in Molly’s hands. She bent down to take the basket from Molly, her bones creaking.

‘Why, there’s nothing in here!’ She said in surprise. It was then that her Grandmother noticed the cake crumbs down the front of Molly’s dress, the grass stains on her socks and the mud all over her shoes.

‘You dawdled in the woods - daydreaming probably - and ate all my cake.’ Her Grandmother accused her heatedly. Molly bowed her head in shame, but secretly smiled to herself.

That’s what you think, Molly thought happily. 

Friday, 11 March 2011

Femmes Damnées

This is the second part of this week's Poetry task. For this task we had to read 'Femmes Damnées', or 'Damned Women', by Charles Baudelaire. Now, this poem is all in French, and although I did a year of French I have no idea what any of it meant. But for this task that did not matter so much. After reading the poem - and probably pronouncing it all wrong - we had to then write what we thought it said or our own version, keeping with the theme of damned women. I found this a tricky task as I am now used to writing and reading sonnets that I don't know how to write a normal poem with no set rules. So, it oddly rhymes and has a strange rhythm to it, but it will have to do for now; I may come back to it.
Firstly, here's Baudelaire's French version:

Femmes damnées

Comme un bétail pensif sur le sable couchées,
Elles tournent leurs yeux vers l'horizon des mers,
Et leurs pieds se cherchent et leurs mains rapprochées
Ont de douces langueurs et des frissons amers.

Les unes, coeurs épris des longues confidences,
Dans le fond des bosquets où jasent les ruisseaux,
Vont épelant l'amour des craintives enfances
Et creusent le bois vert des jeunes arbrisseaux;

D'autres, comme des soeurs, marchent lentes et graves
À travers les rochers pleins d'apparitions,
Où saint Antoine a vu surgir comme des laves
Les seins nus et pourprés de ses tentations;

II en est, aux lueurs des résines croulantes,
Qui dans le creux muet des vieux antres païens
T'appellent au secours de leurs fièvres hurlantes,
Ô Bacchus, endormeur des remords anciens!

Et d'autres, dont la gorge aime les scapulaires,
Qui, recélant un fouet sous leurs longs vêtements,
Mêlent, dans le bois sombre et les nuits solitaires,
L'écume du plaisir aux larmes des tourments.

Ô vierges, ô démons, ô monstres, ô martyres,
De la réalité grands esprits contempteurs,
Chercheuses d'infini dévotes et satyres,
Tantôt pleines de cris, tantôt pleines de pleurs,

Vous que dans votre enfer mon âme a poursuivies,
Pauvres soeurs, je vous aime autant que je vous plains,
Pour vos mornes douleurs, vos soifs inassouvies,
Et les urnes d'amour dont vos grands coeurs sont pleins

Charles Baudelaire

And here's my version:

Femmes Damnées

Their pale laps in which they languish,
Their profound and perfumed scent
Is hypnotising and caressing,
These are not innocent.

They are trouble and are tempting,
They feign naivety and simplicity,
The young voyager with not return
Across those horizons and back to home.

Artists, singers and merchants
All will meet the grave,
Those travellers that have ambitions
These temptresses will then stave.

Those who lure men from the loving light
And hand them silent pains,
They must endeavour this ancient remorse
To call out wicked names.

Sculptures that create the perfect beauty
Are neither safe from their wild wrath,
They are prone to fits of jealousy
And decay and destruction follow in their path.

O Virgin, O Demon, O Monster, O Martyr,
Those great spirits of contempt,
These are what they really are
Under their shadowy cloaks of deceit.

To follow their spirit is damning as hell,
Though to blame them would be cruel
They were born depraved and immoral
Just don’t become their willing fool.

 How was it?

Thursday, 10 March 2011

Opening the Cage

This week we had two tasks for Poetry, but I shall post them serparately. This first one was to read 'Opening the Cage' by Edwin Morgan, here's what it is:

Opening the Cage: 14 Variations on 14 Words
"I have nothing to say and I am saying it and that is poetry." — John Cage

I have to say poetry and is that nothing and am I saying it
I am and I have poetry to say and is that nothing saying it
I am nothing and I have poetry to say and that is saying it
I that am saying poetry have nothing and it is I and to say
And I say that I am to have poetry and saying it is nothing
I am poetry and nothing and saying it is to say that I have
To have nothing is poetry and I am saying that and I say it
Poetry is saying I have nothing and I am to say that and it
Saying nothing I am poetry and I have to say that and it is
It is and I am and I have poetry saying say that to nothing
It is saying poetry to nothing and I say I have and am that
Poetry is saying I have it and I am nothing and to say that
And that nothing is poetry I am saying and I have to say it
Saying poetry is nothing and to that I say I am and have it
So what we had to do was write our own 14 word sentence and replicate this style. Now, our lecturer didn't say what we were about to do so my sentence wasn't that interesting; in fact it was totally mundane! It is a sentence about what I was going to do after my lecture. So here is my version: 

I Will Be Going To Town Later To Buy Some Things That I Need

I will be going to town later to buy some things that I need
Going to town I will be later some things that I need to buy
To town I need to buy some things that I will be going later
Later to town I will be going buy some things that I need to
Some things that I need to town I will be going later to buy
Buy things later that I need to be going to some town I will
Town to be going later I will some need to that I buy things
I need to buy some things that to town I later will be going
Will I be going to some town later to buy things that I need
Some town I will be later need to buy things that I going to
I later will be going to some town to buy things that I need
To buy some things later I need going to town that I will be
Some going to town will later I be need to buy things that I
I will be going to town later to buy some things that I need

What do you think?

Saturday, 5 March 2011

To Sleep

For our poetry task this week we had to write a sonnet about sleep. Now, this seems like the easiest task we've had to do so far, but I felt it was actually the hardest! Apart from being about sleep we had to use old Romantic flowery language, which my lecturer had been moaning about and saying that we shouldn't use; so this was all very odd. However, I don't think I'm too good at this fluffy language and I actually prefer contempory. Oh well. Let's see how you think I did:

Sleep Sonnet

O my dearest sleep why do you desert me
When I desire your touch all through the night
Yet you leave me feeling so lost and so lonely
Still you tempt and you tease till the sunrise does light

My bed is my dungeon till you come to free me
Your feather light fingers swiftly pick at the lock
And my eyes start to flutter at the dreams I then see
But a jump, and a breath and I awake with a shock!

Alas, my dear sleep you are not one to please
I give up, I shan’t stay, I shall leave you indeed
But you’ll lure me right back with grace and with ease
And I’ll follow you willingly, I can’t even plead!

Though I know it will happen the very next day
I can’t help but enjoy these games you do play.