The Camera Eye: New York
Jason so much enjoyed pointing out the houses of various painters, poets, musicians, and writers.
Surface (Chapter 5)
For one thing, she'd wished it hadn't taken the suicide of a poet to lend her work notoriety, and had wondered where this fan base had been when she'd still been alive and would have needed them the most, rather than when they'd needed a martyr.
August 5: Pure, Ephemeral, Beautiful
"quite the poet, aren't you?" "ha! i wish! nothing compared to yours or shin-kun's though." we both laughed at this then shifted our attention back to the fireflies, letting the ones on our hands fly again.
[FILLER] - Baagaa!
I was inspired by a taiwanese poet, ngal veal. she had written so many short stories in a matter of words and phrases, it simply touched my heart when i wrote. you, too need to find an inspiration, jason-kun."
LB: Epilogue - Requiem For My Harlequin
Also, the title of this chapter comes from "requiem for my harlequin" by poets of the fall. enjoy~! link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swlreeoxjfk&ab_channel=poetsofthefall%28official%29 late november rolled in fast.
Because of a Kiss
Something about his touch, the poetry talk, and the smile on his face made the beaver shiver and she gulped anxiously as she felt the same sick feeling in her chest so many poets often wrote about, "th-thanks..."
Unthinkable
A poet would probably have been mesmerised by such a small, yet perfectly intricate example of nature's beauty. i was, if you haven't already gathered, not a poet, i was a warrior who didn't have time to waste.
Disclaimer/Reference Guide
As it is quoted from the ancient selkie poet, _"as fast as any blade can strike, a clavats tongue strikes with thrice the speed and force, and before any magic can down a man, a word of their's can down hundreds.
The Forest Spirit
The countryside is beautiful and i met a few poets and even an artist working under a cherry blossom tree. i even talked to a buddhist monk traveling to a mountain retreat in shinano." "sounds very inspiring."
Expectations
"and such a poet," she said before reaching over the console and opening her black handbag. she pulled a clear bottle with a flip cap out and opened it with a snap. "what's that?"
Pony Poets - Washing Day (3rd in series)
Washing Day The monster waddled up the path to the wash house, squelching with every step. It stalked it's prey, a salmon coloured mare, busying herself in an outhouse. Lowering its slime covered head, the monster approached with caution. "Not the...
Son of a Dream
She was the only poet alive, and no one else could kill a man with words. "we become what we pretend to be" - she thought, drawing a circle on the ground to drain the pressure from her look.