Fic: Poetry of the Heart {Angst Warning}
Title: Poetry of the Heart
Author: glory-jean
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Donna
Setting:S2, mid S4
Rating: All ages
Genre Angsty angst
Summary: Some things need to be said, but there is more than one way of speaking.
Beta: achuislemochroi and momdaegmorgan
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned and created by BBC, used without permission.
Author's Notes: This has been sitting on a file for at least fifteen months, written in a fit of angst. So, not my usual style at all. Quotes credited at the bottom of the page. **Hugs** to my betas who declared this done long ago. And once again thanks to achuislemochroi for the summary.
This Is Just To Say1
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Rose wrote the last word with a flourish, grinning a little manically. She then carefully walked to the galley, trying to be quiet without appearing sneaky, should he happen upon her. The corridors and the galley were blessedly empty so she deposited the sheet of paper in the cold storage unit (which the Doctor insisted was nothing like a refrigerator) and quickly returned to the library. Sparing the empty room a secretive smile, she went back to her book.
Several days - and adventures - later, she had forgotten about that bit of notepaper.
*^*^*^*^*^*
“Rose?” The Doctor's voice was small and confused.
“What is it? ” she asked, concerned.
“I fou- that is - have you been reading poetry, perhaps?”
Now it was Rose's turn to be confused. She furled her brows. “Have I.....”
He held up a familiar-looking sheet of paper, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
Laugher burst from her and she giggled helplessly. The Doctor's expression shifted into a frown.
Rose stood up, wiping tears from her eyes. Ignoring his expression, she kissed him sweetly on the cheek and left the room. Her laughter echoed in the corridor.
The next day he found a poem amongst his socks.
Vladimir seated2
at the trunk of a tree
a spring day
at Wellesley where
he marvels at his students
and their cable-knit socks
the way each elastic
grips without binding
just below
the knee so exquisite
an application of pressure
that when said sock
is slowly
peeled off
the skin shows
no trace at all
It became a somewhat of a running joke between the two of them, leaving poems as notes in random places. Even after she was gone, on occasion, he still came across a sheet of paper tucked somewhere unexpected. Each discovery filled him with equal parts joy and dread.
One day, almost by accident, he told Donna about the poetry. A day or so later he found a sheet of paper beside the jam jars.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;3
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
He read the poem carefully. Twice. Three times. Then he went to the library and pulled out a book. He seated himself at his desk and began to copy a passage. Finally he stood, satisfied, and went to a long sealed room. He paused only a minute at the door. Then he tucked the page in the frame of Rose's mirror and quietly left.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in4
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
_________________________________________________________________
Poems used:
1) This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams
2) from Butterfly Catcher by Tina Cane
3) The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
4) i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart) by ee cummings
Author: glory-jean
Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Donna
Setting:S2, mid S4
Rating: All ages
Genre Angsty angst
Summary: Some things need to be said, but there is more than one way of speaking.
Beta: achuislemochroi and momdaegmorgan
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned and created by BBC, used without permission.
Author's Notes: This has been sitting on a file for at least fifteen months, written in a fit of angst. So, not my usual style at all. Quotes credited at the bottom of the page. **Hugs** to my betas who declared this done long ago. And once again thanks to achuislemochroi for the summary.
This Is Just To Say1
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
Rose wrote the last word with a flourish, grinning a little manically. She then carefully walked to the galley, trying to be quiet without appearing sneaky, should he happen upon her. The corridors and the galley were blessedly empty so she deposited the sheet of paper in the cold storage unit (which the Doctor insisted was nothing like a refrigerator) and quickly returned to the library. Sparing the empty room a secretive smile, she went back to her book.
Several days - and adventures - later, she had forgotten about that bit of notepaper.
*^*^*^*^*^*
“Rose?” The Doctor's voice was small and confused.
“What is it? ” she asked, concerned.
“I fou- that is - have you been reading poetry, perhaps?”
Now it was Rose's turn to be confused. She furled her brows. “Have I.....”
He held up a familiar-looking sheet of paper, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
Laugher burst from her and she giggled helplessly. The Doctor's expression shifted into a frown.
Rose stood up, wiping tears from her eyes. Ignoring his expression, she kissed him sweetly on the cheek and left the room. Her laughter echoed in the corridor.
The next day he found a poem amongst his socks.
Vladimir seated2
at the trunk of a tree
a spring day
at Wellesley where
he marvels at his students
and their cable-knit socks
the way each elastic
grips without binding
just below
the knee so exquisite
an application of pressure
that when said sock
is slowly
peeled off
the skin shows
no trace at all
It became a somewhat of a running joke between the two of them, leaving poems as notes in random places. Even after she was gone, on occasion, he still came across a sheet of paper tucked somewhere unexpected. Each discovery filled him with equal parts joy and dread.
One day, almost by accident, he told Donna about the poetry. A day or so later he found a sheet of paper beside the jam jars.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;3
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
He read the poem carefully. Twice. Three times. Then he went to the library and pulled out a book. He seated himself at his desk and began to copy a passage. Finally he stood, satisfied, and went to a long sealed room. He paused only a minute at the door. Then he tucked the page in the frame of Rose's mirror and quietly left.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in4
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
_________________________________________________________________
Poems used:
1) This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams
2) from Butterfly Catcher by Tina Cane
3) The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
4) i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart) by ee cummings