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Medium Dawn Felagund of the Fountain

Poetry--"How I Wish"

The (Cyber) Bag of Weasels

bread and puppet

"About as much fun as a bag of weasels"...when I first saw this Irish adage, it made me think of the life of a writer: sometimes perilous, sometimes painful, certainly interesting. My paper journal has always been called "The Bag of Weasels." This is the Bag of Weasels' online home.

Poetry--"How I Wish"

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out of the light star
'Tis the season for joy! Light! Celebration!

Therefore, I must write and post dark and depressing poetry.

This one has been tickling my brain since early December when I first started writing lines of it during my classroom observations. I've worked on it bit by bit since then and decided to finish it today as a New Year's treat for myself.

The summary I gave on SWG and MPTT: Left behind by Finrod, Amárië considers the paradox of her situation: her wish for his return and the only means by which her wish would be granted. A sonnet.

Comments are, as always, welcome. My best wishes to all for a joyous New Year! :)

How I Wish

How I wish--I wish--
   No, I cannot say.
For what fate would I impart to thee
If my eyes lift to find thy face this day,
A sudden star caught by the darkened sea?
How I wish--I wish--
   In the market square,
While my thoughts linger in a darker place,
Where I would speed thee from the shadows there
As the sun washes sorrow from thy face.
Would I know the cold reek of dungeons deep?
Would I know all that thou has suffered there?
And, bound by searing ice at hands and feet,
How much would ask that thou heed my prayer?
For my wish means that thou has hurt, has bled,
Has from agony to me dying fled.
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