...A Thousand Words...Poetry
Hey, Serena, don't you wish
that Princesses were made, not born?
Royal blood's no good when all
you want to do is spill it. I will
never lose the picture of
the day you saw your destiny and
memories you never new,
reflected in a shining gem.
It wasn't fair, that when you came
to Earth, when Mother gave her life
up for you and for her kingdom,
she couldn't send your memories too.
For maybe, if you'd grown up still
remembering your heritage, it
might have made it easier
to accept it all and fight.
But Rei is calling you a princess,
insisting that you do your part.
She believes what you still can't-
who would have thought she trusted you?
She stands behind you as the others
wait in quiet expectation,
all their faith and eyes on you.
Confusion reigns and death draws near.
And still you cry out that you wish
you hadn't been born as Sailor or
as Princess, nothing special, but
a normal, happy girl. Serena,
the two of us were meant to meet
and not just for our blonde hair and
our love of cats and chocolate. We are
both Princesses born but paupers made.
So let's cry out together, tell the stars
we wish we could be simple kids. But you
cry that you don't want to be a Princess,
and I just cry that I don't want to be.-written and contibuted by Jennifer Allison Wand, also found on her home page
"An Unnatural Phenomena"
(based on the episode of Sailor Moon of the same name)Call me a mute,
or a pantomime of the earth if you please.
The gods subdued
my voice, but blessed my hands
for through them I have sired my thousand children--
nay, not sired-- the sound of that word is too sterile
when I have borne and labored
and delivered my children into the sunlight.As much a mother as a father, but I dare not
say I created the seed-- that honor belongs to a far
larger mother than I. Call me her servant.
Better yet, call me her voice,
for mute as I am, I speak through my children.
Through their voices do I preach
their mother's religion
as the flora dance and wail.As well you may call me her ears,
for when my child screams in base terror
it is I who hears and it is I who must act.
(their mother hears, and weeps with them,
but she is bound to her warm hub,
her hearth, and cannot respond.)
Yet how much can I do, when my voice
is not nearly like that of those
who would destroy us?
I can but feel anger--
I feel I should kill for my children.Then one day
everything goes black and gray,
and I swear there is a long-haired man
with his hand burning a sign onto my forehead
a glittering syllable (nef)
seared in gold on flesh turned gray.Color returns rushing in red
back to my cheeks and my heart and my blood
seems propelled by a slingshot through roller coaster veins.
The world around me bruises purple.
And I feel sure that I must bruise back.
Will my enemies abuse the language of my hands?
then I shall speak in their tongue.
I hear my once-quiet voice
shriek forth in swords of royal blue
igniting and ripping everything in ear's reach,
even my own body.I fall into white
And lose sight of my children
who when last I remember
united for evil and anger.Were it not for the three lovely angels
I might have been in anger still.
They beat down my children,
sent them home to their mother,
and pulled me away from the tide onto shore.Anger combats not anger
without cursing both the fighters.-written and contibuted by Jennifer Allison Wand, also found on her home page
So Oedipus and Romeo were born before the age of copyright
and if I write a piece where a man
marries his mother, then dies (nod, nod)
it's okay. (the classical allusions are a nice touch)(yes)(well done)
But suppose I want to write a poem
dedicated to you, Osaka Naru,
(or Molly Baker, as the US version calls you)
to publish it, do I not have the right?
Must I fill out legal forms (sign here, sign there)
just so I can praise you in my own way? (now
if you were real...) but no. You're property
of so and so at D.I.C. and so and so out
in Japan. Ah well, I guess I (must)
resign myself to write about your story...
young girl loves older man
who is no man but demon king
but love and love and (star crystal) love
makes him (react) respond.
And the light began to (glow) dawn in him
before a shaft shattered the bulb.
How it must have hurt you, Naru-chan
(don't tell 'em I used your name!) to see,
when you'd finally shown him love could save him,
to see it kill him. (he let down his guard and
Zoycite, a rival, appeared and sneered,
"We don't tolerate traitors.")
And yet your star (crystal) shines on,
sad, but no more bitter than before.
What a brave, brave girl you are.-written and contibuted by Jennifer Allison Wand, also found on her home page.
...previous...continue
...or back to...poetry...continuum...main