A window into the past
One year since A Modern Feminist started bloggingAugust 17th, 2012
An amateur poet's take on feminism
The reading for the First Sunday of Lent was the single briefest summary you’re going to get of Christ’s time spent in the wilderness: Mark chapter 1, verses 12-15
And at once the Spirit drove him into the desert and he remained there for forty days, and was put to the test by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and the angels looked after him. After John had been arrested, Jesus went into Galilee. There he proclaimed the gospel from God saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the gospel.’
Knowing hunger, knowing thirst.
Of what could be water.
To be tempted, coerced.
Of what could be food.
To feel alone.
Of friends, of home.
Spent fasting, spent praying
To give thanks to God.
Spent sleeping, spent praying
Of the gifts He gave.
Well tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and the Christian festival of Lent shall begin! So, as part of that, my poems for the next six weeks shall be Lent themed.
Lent is a time of prayer, and of quiet contemplation on the Passion, Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Lent and Easter is the most important of the year for Christians because it is on the Passion, Death and Resurrection that our faith is intrinsically based. It is what empowers and drives Christianity because it shows that perfect, self sacrificing love that God has for us.
I shall endeavour to explore that love each week and see what I can make of it. I will never be able to adequately express it (it’s like trying to fit an ocean in a walnut shell) but I will do my best!
A voice is calling
‘Come to me’.
A quiet moment
Call to mind those
Cross is forming
Of times coming
One day soon.
From dust He made
This mortal frame
To dust He bade
Return once more.
Mind is free
Not a thought of darkness
Comes near me
Just light. Simply life.
I have no fear
Of the coming end
Not when I hear
That still, small voice.
An ashen cross
Adorns my head
I fear not loss
Nor pain nor death.
For my Lord is here
The road begun
The Passion is near
The Passion of Love.
Next instalment of the campaign:
The Gentry: The Fae/Fair Folk/Faeries
Did you sleep well? Good, good. The dreams here are most pleasant, you’ll find. A nightmare in a world made of nightmares is somewhat redundant. Now, you see this? It’s a report on the vampire I mentioned at the start of the story, to help you follow. Yes, he was a real monster wasn’t he? He’s not even the worst who has preyed on your kind across the millenia. Yes, be angry, you have every right to be, vengeful, compassionate, delicious anger. Pardon? No no, I said nothing. Now, back to my tale!
You see, these people were being watched, and not be any single entity. Lance was being watched by the very mage who had taken his life from him. Oh no, he didn’t kill him. If a mage has time to prepare, they will move mountains before they die, no, the mage was simply checking up on him…
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Seeing as it’s Valentine’s Day, I thought that I would do a poem on love. But instead of being disgustingly romantic about it, I decided to write about both sides of love, the fun bit and the hard bit (focussing on the hard bit). So yeah, Happy Valentine’s Day to all those couples celebrating the day and enjoy this little reminder about how it’s not all fun and games xx
Sometimes it will end up hurting
It goes beyond the words of affection
Beyond the sweet words and idle flirting.
True love takes work
Takes honesty and time
The fortitude to stick at it
When things aren’t ‘just fine’.
Love is spending time alone to calm down
It is arguing and it is fighting
It is checking your words when things go wrong
It is sitting alone with your thoughts and crying.
It will bring the heart new pleasure
It will lift the heart to all new heights
It brings peace and joy in equal measure.
True love is to smile
When things go wrong
To love someone
Is to separate them from the throng.
Love is when you remain steadfast and loyal
Even when others refuse.
It is to never be whimsical with your beloved’s heart
Nor play nor hurt nor use.
I think I’ll just reblog all of these accounts, just coz nWoD is pretty awesome XD
i’ll also include a little glossary for those not familiar with the world (as far as I am able; I’m not sure what some of the stuff means XP)
Lost–Changelings (mortals who have escaped from the maddening world of the Fae)
Bound–humans brought back to life by Geists (basically very very old ghosts) who are now bound to said Geist
embraced–turned into a vampire
the veil–the barrier between our world and the world of magical creatures
Name: “Stoker” Unsure of name’s origin, original name unknown.
Appearance: late twenties, male, somewhat tall, a lot of muscle. very short hair, similar to father’s in reports. no distinction in dress-code
Criminal history: assault on mortals, involved in suspected murder of Lancea Sanctum elder, two instances of breaking the veil, theft, kidnapping, public indecency, hatred against lost, bound, and dwarves, suspected rape against elves, mortals, and a werewolf.
Background: Grew up on farm, embraced by uncle (investigation turned up bad history with uncle, though the invictus has already seen to him) killed a mage and usurped his house, enraging the silver ladder, though it was lawful (honourable combat, some mages never learn). Frequently travlled to cities to cause trouble. joined old albion via the sanctum’s office.
Notes: I have a full list of his crimes in detail, and it’s longer than my spear. Some of the reports…
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This is the start of the account of the New World of Darkness campaign I am involved in. New World of Darkness is a tabletop rpg in which ‘all the myths are true’, as it were (i.e. faeries, witches, ghosts, vampires, werewolves etc all exist). It is usually set in the modern world, but my friends and I decided to for a medieval setting, just for fun. (My character in Ethel de Redvers)
((I’ve decided to continue this blog again, this time using it for World of Darkness, which means I’ll be more likely to post, but on a very different topic to idle rambling, though rambling may occur if I have time.))
Come, take a seat. I don’t mean you any harm. My servants may have been a little…over-enthusiastic, and I do deeply apologise, but do not worry I may let you free to see your loved ones again. What was that? They left you? Such a pity, such a pity… Perhaps a tale, to cheer you up? Sit by the fire, it’s lovely and warm. I think you’ll find my company is very enjoyable. Let me think…I have just the story, it is long, and it will push the boundaries of your poor, simple mind, but I am sure you will find it to your taste.
It all started in a…
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I guess I wrote this one for the women and POC (People Of Colour) who cannot, and refuse not, to see racism or sexism around them. Who see the problematic portrayals of women and POC by both privileged and unprivileged groups alike but prefer to live with the blinkers on and collaborate rather than acknowledge and try to make a change. It is also the first poem I’ve ever written completely in free verse so I dunno how it has turned out.
They are blind to see
The sexism before them
They refuse to become
Instead they hide
They bury their heads in the sand
And say ‘It’s OK’ ‘Nothing is wrong’
Whilst staring at their bodies
They do not know
And they do not believe
That we do not lie.
We know what we see
And when we try
‘You are paranoid’
‘The world is post-feminist, colour-blind’
‘There is nothing wrong.’
Do not go through life
Lest the filth consume you
Lest it make you hate yourself
Hate who you are.
Remove the plugs from your ears
Shake the dust from your mind
Wipe the mud from your eyes
I just really like this so thought I would post it a little off schedule. Three cheers for Manjree!