summer_jackel: (Default)
2017-05-26 10:27 am

Writing Prompt --- Dead Language

develop-your-oc

Which OC speaks a dead language?



His language is not dead, but in the city it may as well be, so distant are all of its speakers. Valerai fervently hopes that they remain that way, but she will always miss them.

Seljai, she thinks every morning at the time she once opened her mind to daily prayer: be alive, be full of joy, be far, far away from this place.

And in the city, she speaks his language to her hounds. “Beautiful ones, sleek wind-chasers, little piece-of-the-sky hounds," she speaks to them so that she does not forget his language, so unlike any other she ever learned. The long softness of its syllables, the gentle rising and falling of its cadence, the neat definition of its structure comfort her, soothe her aching when she misses him and all that she has lost.

Everyone assumes Valerai is speaking her own language, or nonsense-syllables; and if she becomes aware of this, she does not correct them. She does not speak of him, does not wish to invoke him here; but she will not forget his language, for it is not dead, and, somewhere, neither is he.
summer_jackel: (Default)
2017-05-20 12:10 pm

Writing prompt---Lial and hair accessories

Sweet, this is a bit of Rosegarden I needed to write eventually anyway. It fits into Lial's early emancipation sequence.

develop-your-oc

Which OC wears hair accessories?

running-dog:

Lial stepped out onto the staff balcony, into the sun, and the net of tiny crystals worked into her long hair seemed to ignite into pale-yellow fire. Her white robe was of the simplest cut, but Zela blinked at the unlikely marvel that she’d made of her already eye-catching tresses.

Zela realized she was staring, returned herself to appropriate distance, but didn’t grudge signing ‘impressive’ into their shared context. Valerai was still staring, but in a different way, her expression a thoughtful, head-cocked perplexity not at all unlike the wolfhound standing quietly beside her, as though trying to understand rather than admire what she was seeing.

The jeweled net worked part of Lial’s hair into an interlocking spiral that began at her temples, made a tight coil down the back of her neck, and spilled in scintillation down her back. A faceted stone of clear yellow glittered at her brow. It was the same bright, clear yellow as her eyes, and it was to this Valerai looked askance.

Lial’s usual regal distance had a different quality as she stared calmly into the middle distance, her expression an absence framed by the intricate crystals, and Valerai scrutinized her in the way her dog sniffed the air, trying to understand.

“Will it impress the audience?” She spoke with the inflection of one who had been taught late how inflection was meant to work in human language. In-city formal, and now Zela thought she understood the Yls-vel accent—God.

“Ought to,” shrugged Zela. “Hey Valerai, you’re staring. Nice hair. Come on, we’d better get out there.”
summer_jackel: (Default)
2017-05-03 04:49 pm

OC prompt from tumblr

develop-your-oc

Which OC would be the most fashionable at the Met Gala?
running-dog

Valerai, no question. She and Jena would go to the world-equivalent Met gala and love it.

Something more or less along these lines happens in the first book. (Have I mentioned here that this is a trilogy? It's a trilogy. Rosegarden is book 2).
summer_jackel: (Default)
2017-04-20 02:46 pm
Entry tags:

The Lives of St. Valerai: Rosegarden

The work-in-progress is here:

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1hV76fbWbEZ_FKWsowpdXd-HlvaUgyRqvDtgnM60IBZw


Rosegarden: an alternate history; a story of manners and predation; toothy monsters; a woman and her dogs. Warning for explicit content in places.


Enjoy!
summer_jackel: (Default)
2017-04-20 01:37 pm
Entry tags:

66. Honest dogs

Well hey, new internet platform, we'll see how this goes.

For the time being, this is mostly going to be a writing journal for my novel-in-progress, 'Rosegarden.' I plan to shortly make it available as a google document, in as much of its extremely unfinished, messy, rough drafted glory as exists.

But I'll begin with the scene I've been working on for the last couple of days. I realized that it contains the book in a nutshell, and is probably a decent indicator for whether a reader will find the thing interesting. If you like this, there's 548 pages and counting (sob) more of it.

66. Honest dogs )
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2017-04-10 12:38 pm
Entry tags:

obviously my attention isn't completely on this project this year...

Hi, Livejournal! Long time.

If it seems obvious that my heart isn't in NaPo right now, I actually have a pretty good reason...I've been writing a novel, and it's getting pretty close to completion. I'm working on getting the incomplete draft up, for anyone to glance at who cares to do so.

In the meantime, it is spring and all ducks are poetry.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2015-04-26 06:13 pm
Entry tags:

Querent

Where are you bound? What are you seeking?
I seek the heavy bracken, the silver-wooded trees with one red strip of living bark

What did you find there? What did you touch?
My feet became paw-prints in the dust, in among the violet lupine and the yellow fairy-lanterns
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2015-04-19 08:35 pm
Entry tags:

(no subject)

Sundown---
one white swan resting in a roadside pond
two mallards in the gilded reeds beside.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2015-04-12 07:00 pm

The most poem I can do after a weekend of showing the dogs

Pretty dogs, finely bred:
Show them lots, then sleep like dead.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2015-04-10 11:59 am

fish shadow

Notice the fish by its shadow,
crisp above the gravel.
Above, the fingerling rests between
stillness and sunlight.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2015-01-05 10:59 pm
Entry tags:

New Year 2015

New Year 2015

It’s the beginning of another year;
Yule has been gently and lovingly folded away
while we weren’t looking.
It’s been days now since I took each ornament carefully
from my little potted trees, the ritual of wrapping up the objects
and remembering each tiny story, resting a bit
in the ache of so much love and change and loss
and love again.

Oh my dear ones—— now by the fireside, the biting,
vicious promise of this most recent January wheels in circles
upward through the trees. This is joy, this ache
this memory of having you so near, so recently——that we exist.
That we have had this time, and are breathing through this moment
and I am so grateful.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2014-04-09 08:22 pm
Entry tags:

Little fish

From a tiny fissure in the rock,
glittering-eyed and fierce,
little fish challenges:
I am here. I am significant. This is
a space I occupy.
I've not been eaten yet.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2014-04-07 11:59 pm

redwoods in morning

There is first height, a quality of shade;
an unfurling of ferns, the slow, cool green breath
with woodpeckers' sudden calling.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2014-04-03 09:10 am
Entry tags:

pack blessing

May you find your pack;
May morning sunlight caress your upturned faces
sweet breezes bringing you the scent
of that which you most desire;
May you move together in that hunt, touching shoulders
touching muzzles, running beside each other
like running water, like swift streams, glittering freshets:
May you run swift and clean.
May mountains hold you, may you gather in meadows, in wildflowers
May you recognize each other by the moon's light
May stars find you curled together, deep in stone and earth and warm.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2014-04-02 10:13 am
Entry tags:

NaPoWriMo the (belated) first

OK, I am starting a day late this year, but here we are. As in all previous years, I will not promise that any of these will be any good, but I will try to commit some verse daily this month, even if it only is three lines about ducks.

I'm cheating a little bit on the first one; most of it came into my head a couple of weekends ago. It won't leave, though, so here it is.

******

Show Doggerel

Little Coba Cobulon, get your prance and sparkle on
draw up your paws, erase your flaws
and follow me across the lawn.

******
Duck, Road, Color

Breathing in the spring
beneath a sodden sky:
a lone drake stands upon the near-empty road,
flashes up with strong wingbeats,
bright plumage, sharp contrasts
one more shade of shining, vivid green.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2014-03-13 01:22 pm
Entry tags:

A Post: Poems and Bras and Dogs and Stuff!

Hey there, anyone who might still be looking at this. Waves at the internet

In short: Livejournal remains the best social media site, so here I am, experimenting with perhaps posting more regularly again. For one thing, NaPoWriMo happens next month, and forcing myself to create something that resembles one poem per day in April is a tradition I've found to be useful discipline, even though personally I'd probably choose October. So there will be poems soon.

The most important thing I want to do right now, however, is to share [livejournal.com profile] corpsefairy's exciting Indiegogo campaign. She's opening what is going to be a really fabulous, fun, classy brick-and-mortar bra store on Piedmont Ave. in Oakland, CA, offering garments that fit properly in a way that most available to Americans don't. If you wear a bra, care about anyone who does, or just want to see me wearing a pink bra and talking about how much I generally despise the things, go look (and watch the videos). Seriously, only for Corpsefairy would I appear on the web in a pink bra.

Pink bra or no, I'm never going to be as internet-famous as my little dog, and that is probably a good thing. This Tumblr post, visually describing Coba's bathing sequence has, at time of writing, over 4,000 likes, something that has never happened before. I am highly amused. Coba hopes that this doesn't mean that he gets even more baths.

On the subject of dogs, my pack of three and I continue to adventure. Here's a group shot from a recent walk we shared a vineyard. Sadly out of focus, but I love the touch between Zhava and Coba anyway.

 photo DSC06713_zpsabff0fd0.jpg
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2013-10-30 11:57 pm
Entry tags:

October Poem

October poem

The nights are getting colder---
come morning, each maple-leaf a sigh more vivid
Never has it flared any year quite the same color, this
small tree
each year has its character. Its loves, its deaths
the patterns of its storms, its small rainfall
the memories of when we walked together
when the maples showed their crimson
when the canyon listened for the rain
and dry leaves glittered quietly to ground.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2013-08-15 02:54 pm

planting

For an offering she gave
one unbidden flash of thought:
you are beautiful, friend plant, you other living thing---
and we hold our breath
as it slides into the ground, requesting transformation;
that the soft roots will continue
that its leaves will double
that a life might continue, given by this ground.

May we thrive, may that
which is most verdant, water-filled and foliaged
within our hearts find place to root and reach,
that we may offer our most tender hue.
summer_jackel: (Zhava Running)
2013-08-01 08:51 pm
Entry tags:

Storm/Moment

There was a thunderstorm last night.
It shook the house, a resonant cracking
so sharp and long I thought a tree had fallen.

Wild bright flashes lit my room
a long-held breath of silence brought the rain
I lay awake, exultant, breathless
sighing in the sound, thinking of you.

* * *

The color of a bluegill’s fins reflecting water,
the memory of her voice as we walked together;
Sun glittering streamside in little golden droplets
and the gentle warmth of a late afternoon.





These were not made at the same time and were not intended to be together, but they feel right together now.
summer_jackel: (Coba profile)
2013-01-23 12:27 am
Entry tags:

late night love poem (trout)

o my love, if I
could bring to you a tiny shining stone
from the greenest depth, would it
reflect glinting as a trout's eye
just that degree of keenness, of intention?