evilrooster: (Default)
The first September week was barely past
When he was born. The way the seasons change
Is catching, so perhaps it is not strange
That his first tongue and nation weren't his last.
But though a tree may shed its autumn leaves
And be reclad in spring, the trunk remains.
And so it is with Serge, who still retains
The core of whom he loves, what he believes.
Beneath the puns, behind the clever prose,
Between the lines of sly pastiche, I see
The way he cares for this community
And value all the warmth his manner shows.
So happy birthday, Serge, although I'm late
(I knew the month, but just mislaid the date!)


A belated birthday sonnet for [profile] serge_lj, originally posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
The first September week was barely past
When he was born. The way the seasons change
Is catching, so perhaps it is not strange
That his first tongue and nation weren't his last.
But though a tree may shed its autumn leaves
And be reclad in spring, the trunk remains.
And so it is with Serge, who still retains
The core of whom he loves, what he believes.
Beneath the puns, behind the clever prose,
Between the lines of sly pastiche, I see
The way he cares for this community
And value all the warmth his manner shows.
So happy birthday, Serge, although I'm late
(I knew the month, but just mislaid the date!)


A belated birthday sonnet for [profile] serge_lj, originally posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
The first days with the flaming sword, I swore
I'd break my arms, or burn my fingertips.
My palms were blistered. Skin came off in strips.
At sunset I'd be weary to the core.
And now I can, with joyful spirit, tell
How when my widespread wings were newly fledged
I lost control, and ended my flight wedged
Inside a cliffside crack (from which I fell!)
In time I learned to better wield my sword
And not set light to quite so many trees.
I fly for days on end with grace and ease.
And doing these things well, I please the LORD.
(But I confess - His pleasure's just a part
Of my delight in mastering my art.)


Written for [profile] tnhat the beginning of her new job, and posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
The first days with the flaming sword, I swore
I'd break my arms, or burn my fingertips.
My palms were blistered. Skin came off in strips.
At sunset I'd be weary to the core.
And now I can, with joyful spirit, tell
How when my widespread wings were newly fledged
I lost control, and ended my flight wedged
Inside a cliffside crack (from which I fell!)
In time I learned to better wield my sword
And not set light to quite so many trees.
I fly for days on end with grace and ease.
And doing these things well, I please the LORD.
(But I confess - His pleasure's just a part
Of my delight in mastering my art.)


Written for [profile] tnhat the beginning of her new job, and posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
The ti bon ange wakes and sips its tea.
The day awaits, the curled-up sleeping man
Lies ready to inhabit, so it can
In all he does, express divinity.
In cyberspace, the greater angel stirs
And spreads its bit-fledged wings, extending far
Beyond a body's reach. The shining star
Of Coming Light unfallen, it confers
Upon its willing agents powers thus:
The well-wrought pun, the gentle quip,
The tactful hint, the jest whose pointed tip
Is yet unbarbed. And so it graces us.
O Xopher's angel twins, the great and small,
Come comment here, enlightening us all!

Written to embarrass [profile] xopher_vh on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
The ti bon ange wakes and sips its tea.
The day awaits, the curled-up sleeping man
Lies ready to inhabit, so it can
In all he does, express divinity.
In cyberspace, the greater angel stirs
And spreads its bit-fledged wings, extending far
Beyond a body's reach. The shining star
Of Coming Light unfallen, it confers
Upon its willing agents powers thus:
The well-wrought pun, the gentle quip,
The tactful hint, the jest whose pointed tip
Is yet unbarbed. And so it graces us.
O Xopher's angel twins, the great and small,
Come comment here, enlightening us all!

Written to embarrass [profile] xopher_vh on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
A single strand of silver wire entwines
Among the gems and beads, and twists around
The finest one, a secret treasure found
Among the curves like fruit among the vines.
And when the gem is lost, the shining wire
Preserves intact its shape, its outs and ins
The places where it widens, where it thins,
Reflecting, still, an echo of its fire.
How painful for the wire to now enclose
An emptiness, a hollow in its heart.
And yet the hole is just one balanced part
Of fine-wrought silverwork. And still it grows
And shapes the gulf into its graceful whole:
A necklace and a Lioness's soul.


Written for [personal profile] elisem, originally posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
A single strand of silver wire entwines
Among the gems and beads, and twists around
The finest one, a secret treasure found
Among the curves like fruit among the vines.
And when the gem is lost, the shining wire
Preserves intact its shape, its outs and ins
The places where it widens, where it thins,
Reflecting, still, an echo of its fire.
How painful for the wire to now enclose
An emptiness, a hollow in its heart.
And yet the hole is just one balanced part
Of fine-wrought silverwork. And still it grows
And shapes the gulf into its graceful whole:
A necklace and a Lioness's soul.


Written for [personal profile] elisem, originally posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
We stand between the darkness and the light:
The balance-point, when coming day reveals
Details that the darker time conceals,
And watch the sunlight overtake the night.
This equinox marks more than balance struck
Between the darkness, velvet cloak swept back,
And gold-robed daytime, mirroring the black.
This is the coming of the light. What luck
This luminiferous date also brought
Our hostess forth, whose writing more than glows:
Her fractal grasp of language yields prose
That's filigreed with sunlight, finely wrought.
So happy birthday. May your day be bright.
From me, and all of us on Making Light.

Written in honor of [profile] tnh's birthday, and originally posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
We stand between the darkness and the light:
The balance-point, when coming day reveals
Details that the darker time conceals,
And watch the sunlight overtake the night.
This equinox marks more than balance struck
Between the darkness, velvet cloak swept back,
And gold-robed daytime, mirroring the black.
This is the coming of the light. What luck
This luminiferous date also brought
Our hostess forth, whose writing more than glows:
Her fractal grasp of language yields prose
That's filigreed with sunlight, finely wrought.
So happy birthday. May your day be bright.
From me, and all of us on Making Light.

Written in honor of [profile] tnh's birthday, and originally posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
Assembled masses dance and shout "hooray".
The trumpets blare. The church bells start to chime,
As we delight in one more gift of rhyme.
Another writer coming out to play!
Like him, we doubt that our poetic voice
Is adequate to match the standards set
By those who came before. But let's forget
Our worries for the moment, and rejoice.
And as for content, I have drunk such tea
As Sandy has described, with powdered chalk,
(They called it milk. The lied.) So now I baulk
When someone offers office drinks to me.
May Sandy write the way he drinks his tea:
With courage, optimism, honesty.

Originally posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
Assembled masses dance and shout "hooray".
The trumpets blare. The church bells start to chime,
As we delight in one more gift of rhyme.
Another writer coming out to play!
Like him, we doubt that our poetic voice
Is adequate to match the standards set
By those who came before. But let's forget
Our worries for the moment, and rejoice.
And as for content, I have drunk such tea
As Sandy has described, with powdered chalk,
(They called it milk. The lied.) So now I baulk
When someone offers office drinks to me.
May Sandy write the way he drinks his tea:
With courage, optimism, honesty.

Originally posted on Making Light.
evilrooster: (Default)
Today the Fluorosphere will mark his birth
Whose gravity, when he has cause to write,
Can draw us all together, while his mirth
And musicality yet make us light.
His passion and his politics infuse
Discussions with his sense of what is right:
When someone challenges his deep-held views
He argues with uncompromising might.
And yet that passion is the lesser part
Of what I find that I admire the most.
I've seen, in quiet moments, a great heart,
And looking, find it somewhere in each post.
So happy birthday, Patrick. All the best.
Originally posted on Making Light, in honor of [personal profile] pnh's birthday.
evilrooster: (Default)
Today the Fluorosphere will mark his birth
Whose gravity, when he has cause to write,
Can draw us all together, while his mirth
And musicality yet make us light.
His passion and his politics infuse
Discussions with his sense of what is right:
When someone challenges his deep-held views
He argues with uncompromising might.
And yet that passion is the lesser part
Of what I find that I admire the most.
I've seen, in quiet moments, a great heart,
And looking, find it somewhere in each post.
So happy birthday, Patrick. All the best.
Originally posted on Making Light, in honor of [personal profile] pnh's birthday.

All Glory

Jan. 1st, 2007 10:07 pm
evilrooster: (Default)
The Fluorosphere, its multicoloured light
Projecting over information-scapes,
Auroral in the year's initial night,
Is dazzled by the glow Steve Taylor makes.
The choirs, both those who like their Tallis neat
And those who want a dash of Williams in
Together sing his praises, voices sweet
As fruitcake (with no weasels added in).
The poets cast their laurel and their oak
About his feet, and over his head raise
The highest crown, revered by all these folk:
A laudatory sonnet. Let us praise!
In comment boxes take we up the cry:
Hurray for Steve, who brought back View All By!

Originally posted on Making Light.  Because people who fix things don't get enough praise.

All Glory

Jan. 1st, 2007 10:07 pm
evilrooster: (Default)
The Fluorosphere, its multicoloured light
Projecting over information-scapes,
Auroral in the year's initial night,
Is dazzled by the glow Steve Taylor makes.
The choirs, both those who like their Tallis neat
And those who want a dash of Williams in
Together sing his praises, voices sweet
As fruitcake (with no weasels added in).
The poets cast their laurel and their oak
About his feet, and over his head raise
The highest crown, revered by all these folk:
A laudatory sonnet. Let us praise!
In comment boxes take we up the cry:
Hurray for Steve, who brought back View All By!

Originally posted on Making Light.  Because people who fix things don't get enough praise.

Profile

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