#wilawen

[wilawen]

this is my little cove of poetry - i am glad you have found it - not many know about this nook - let's keep it our sly secret -

[wilawen]

Little Spot

By Gofalon Bay - picturesque - but still a little seasick - hope never to sail again - seas are better for sitting by than sitting on

[wilawen]

Another young thing from me - a journal page - many-tides liked this one best - when we traded journals for a day - no one knows where she is now

[wilawen]

Heart of My Heart

A poem of Wilawen, from the illustrated “Odes to Experience.”

Heart of my heart, my limbs are warm, Your beat is light, our skies are calm. Give me an hour, I will be thine, A spade in your loam, a crack in your spine.

Digging for years my life will be, The center of your spheres to see. I lapped around untrammeled shores, Eight holes I made, and sixteen more.

Looking back on my work again, I see but craters on your skin: Pockmarks upon a grassy hill, A treasureless crevice gashed in your will.

Heresy, love! Forgive my sin; Abuse of you my search has been. Here is the dirt that I confess I tore as brooches from your dress.

Now it's my wish to sit in peace With adamen before your grace, Watching the cast of green reveil The allness of your funeral.

[wilawen]

This is an old ferrotype of me - or perhaps i should say a young one - i didn't even have my calian ~

[wilawen]

Song of the Sea

A poem from “Odes to Experience,” a self-printed book of verse and illustration by the radical poet/artist Wilawen. Though they never left the Summerset Isles, Wilawen scorned conventional Altmer theology and religiosity, delighting instead in “the irreplaceable Ada of now.”

I lose my creed in opal Coves And soul to oceans sapphire; My leafs I spread to Topal’s doves, Who laugh and scatter higher;

Make I conference with the tide, Worship, with the seasons, With cults of turtles, secrets hide, With canah, miss the reasons.

They are all like me, Divine, A mystery to themselves. Our language is an ancient wine, Our moment, fragrant loaves,

And none of us refuse to eat, And count we talking just as sweet. Our lively hearts together beat Where coils of the Serpent meet.

[wilawen]

Adoration

Distributed among Wilawen's friends, but never officially published in the Summerset Isles.

The towers of our Crystal Law Beside the hills are not so high; It’s marble walls are not so white As the spry white around your eye;

The silver-woven Kynreeve staff Is trifle to the Indrik’s horn; The worship peals of crystal bells Are babble by the baby born;

The armor-glass of Alinor Seems jealous of the turtle’s gleam; And stacks of scrolls, with wisdom wrought, Of nixad pratter only dream;

And yet I bless them, every one, These honest dupes of Alaxon.