I stayed home from work today because my back was so bad last night that I didn't get any sleep. Went to the chiropractor. He used a laser on me. I wish I'd seen it, but I was face-down. A laser. I think that's cool, but then, I'm a big dork. On Wednesday it's the regular doctor. Why am I falling apart like this? All in the world I wanted to do was lose weight before my reunion. *sigh*
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It's the last day of National Poetry Month, so I have two poems for you. They're both about cats because all cats are poetic - except for my William. :)
The Cat and the Moon
by William Buter Yeats
The cat went here and there
and the moon spun round like a top,
and the nearest kin of the moon,
the creeping cat, looked up.
Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
for, wander and wail as he would,
the pure cold light in the sky
troubled his animal blood.
Minnaloushe runs in the grass
lifting his delicate feet.
Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
When two close kindred meet,
what better than call a dance?
Maybe the moon may learn,
tired of that courtly fashion,
a new dance turn.
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
from moonlit place to place,
the sacred moon overhead
has taken a new phase.
Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
will pass from change to change,
and that from round to crescent,
from crescent to round they range?
Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
alone, important and wise,
and lifts to the changing moon
his changing eyes.
Cat's Dream
by Pablo Neruda
How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings--
a series of burnt circles--
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.
I should like to sleep like a cat,
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.
I have seen how the cat asleep
would undulate, how the night
flowed through it like dark water;
and at times, it was going to fall
or possibly plunge into
the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
like a tiger's great-grandfather,
and would leap in the darkness over
rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.
Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams;
control the obscurity
of our slumbering prowess
with your relentless heart
and the great ruff of your tail.
(Translated by Alastair Reid)
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And these are the stories that I posted in April:
Double Twist of Fate or a Melody Star Wars | PG-13 | Han/Leia | "Han won't say it, but he likes the braids."
A Sure Cure for the Blues Harry Potter/The Smurfs | PG | Snape & Gargamel | Snape's ancestor needs his help in dealing with a few small, blue, problems.
Wedding Night Prydain | PG | Taran/Eilonwy | He's perfectly willing to be romantic, if she'll only let him get a word in edgewise.
Wake Up Slow (The Second Time Around Remix) Buffyverse | PG | Xander/Buffy | Remix of
Two Words by
liz_marcs | "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."