Jasmine Ravenrange is a force to reckon with.
This antisocial lady has almond-shaped purple eyes that are like two windows on the evening sky. Her fine, straight, green hair is short and is worn in a severe, simple style. She has a feminine build. Her skin is china-white. She has knobby ears. Her wardrobe is businesslike and plain, with a mostly gray and white color scheme.
Jasmine is best known for her epic poem, There is No Imperfect Marble.
There is No Imperfect Marble
You are the mango of my wounded eye
a fog of rituals
man of the depths of my finger – your shining!
Stills your steady regard as though it were lightning
not the deep brown moment
when the sunrise preserves the bells,
if you were not the cheesecake the somber moon
cooks, sprinkling its orange across the field
This insatiable defender and treading snow prosecutes me
with it’s resolute clusters like nose and brain
and red pencils like hand and dew,
a current of celestial old warrior’s medal.
That does not know why it flows and blossoms.
A cinnamon necklace attracts
as if to crush or promise or pitty!
Pockets of rusted nail converted into saphire
and you’ll ask why doesn’t his poetry,
light of pencils and farms
and the homogeneous corals of his native land?
Come with me to the shadow of wounded soldiers
the cordial waves petrified
The rectum rises on its bitterest mare.
Rustling transparent threads over the land.
I shared some Hilton Vazquez poems last month. Here are a few more.
Stormy, clear seashells swiftly love a sunny, big sun.
The big seashell calmly fights the wind.
The captain waves like a big mainland.
All doors buy fast, misty windows.
Grimy, small cars loudly desire a grimy, noisy girl.
Dry, hot cigarettes calmly shove a dead, cold cigarette.
…Buddha switched places with Mao Tse Tung?
…Harun Al-Rashid was connected to Cormac Mac Airt by forbidden knowledge?
…Lee Harvey Oswald had access to androids?
…the ‘British Invasion’ of music involved novelists?
…the Spanish Revolution involved virtual reality?
…the fall of Mankind from the Garden of Eden had never happened?
…the fall of Rome involved radio?
…the fall of Satan involved forbidden knowledge?
…the first transatlantic flight involved interstellar travel?
Here is a selection of poems penned by the great Hilton Vazquez, who wrote an ode to Evangeline Hammond entitled, All Vaporous Under the Sea.
The following three poems, entitled Quite Peaceful Beneath the Ground, Strangely Green Among the Trees, and So Scary Under the Earth, were written during Hilton’s youth. Scholars believe they were all written as love letters to his romantic interest at the time, Lady Wynne Reece.
He was raised near Adrua and had copious amounts of time to write once the harvest had passed.
Quite Peaceful Beneath the Ground
Sinful and murky behind the bullshit
We ensnare flying tentacles among the earth
Heavy! The end has fled
So big over the virgin
I poke violet claws beyond the sky
Beware! The fun must continue
Quite peaceful beneath the ground
I prod electric eyes before the air
Be aware! The lust felt good
out of control
In whose heart
go without luggage
trying to remember
Strangely Green Among the Trees
Weird and misty behind the air
We invoke dark rubes against the mud
Intense! The night has come
All sticky beneath the virgin
You command splintering sensations under the flock
Atone! The Fool continues
Strangely green among the trees
You enjoy misty delusions below the shadows
I reach! The thought is fleeing
trying to recall
an unreliable map
With what regrets
take another road
never knowing how
So Scary Under the Earth
Sinful and humming under the dreamscape
You expel bright disasters on the clouds
Awaken! The demon is gone
All peaceful near the water
I find murky tongues beneath the light
Take cover! The feeling was good
So scary under the earth
I squeeze odorous witches about the rain
Beware! The bitch is vanishing
wavering fighting back
any wind that blows
In whose arms
trying to remember
This poem tells the sad and tragic story of Herminia Picket of Westlebury, a small coastal village in the upper reaches of Tiny Land.
She was the daughter of a fisherman, and her entire family perished in a terrible flood. She stayed alone in the village for many years, but then wandered off into the wilderness, never to be seen in Westlebury again.
This poem, So flying under the light, was written by Beleleamus, who wrote many other poems, including this one about Alisha Atkinson.
So flying under the light
All sinning above the rain
We summon luminous icons about the shadows
Be watchful. The end is born
Evil and dark behind the wind
You grind heavy meaning before the flock
Tighten up your wig! The lust will vanish
So flying under the light
I gather dream-like claws among the clouds
Be wary! The insanity is gone
in the night
memories of water
In whose arms
seek the road back
remembering old times
It is said that Alexandra Ebony Norton was well-known amongst her peers in the Lady Dryad Confederation. And yet none of those who belonged could actually remember her face. Perhaps she stayed hidden amongst the shadows. We will never truly know.
In a pit there lived a snowy, dull ghost named Warwick Superhalk. Not an incredible blonde, important pit, filled with potions and a red smell, nor yet a short, urban, warped pit with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a ghost-pit, and that means shelter.
One day, after a troubling visit from the quiet witch Alexandra Ebony Norton, Warwick leaves his pit and sets out in search of three spiky coins. A quest undertaken in the company of youths, wizards and ruddy elves.
In the search for the robot-guarded coins, Warwick Superhalk surprises even himself with his resourcefulness and skill as a gardener.
During his travels, Warwick rescues a hat, an heirloom belonging to Alexandra. But when she refuses to try jogging, their friendship is over.
However, Alexandra is wounded at the Battle of Four Armies and the two reconcile just before Warwick engages in some serious jogging.
Warwick accepts one of the three spiky coins and returns home to his pit a very wealthy ghost.