Seed's Poetry Corner: Glitch-Magic (For Sluggs)

Seed's picture
According to the trees, there are a lot of people saying things they feel they need to say. In the spirit of this, and of Forest Magic, I'd like to give a poem to my dear old pal Sluggs, who I saw today: the true sorceror of the strange, without compare.


It’s a laughing sort of magic
Where the sky’s where you stand
And you fall up from the ground;
Where you sit beneath the water
and watch the outer-space of air.

It’s a twisting sort of magic,
Twirling Mobius shapes with your bones;
Becoming the size of a blade of grass,
And curl in the air, swimming in a drop of rain.

It’s a wild sort of magic
In your stuttering summersault laugh
Your dance rising endlessly from your knees
Your birdsong singing from the tops of trees.

It’s an amazing magic
That I’m so very glad I’ve met:
The smile you pull out from bits of data
Strung in double-helix Christmas lights,
Switching places with the dull grey day
That was there just a moment ago.

((This has been a visit to Seed's Poetry Corner that happened when I should have been working on essays.))
Sluggs's picture

I, I think I'm going to cry!

I, I think I'm going to cry! (Well, I nearly did, you little...)

Seed, what a wonderful thing to do! This means so damn much to me, you mean so damn much to me, my friend!

*falls over*

*saves thread*


Seed's picture

Ack, don't die! My poems keep

Ack, don't die!
My poems keep getting eaten or killing people! Whhhhhyyyyyy?! Why must destroy the things I love?!

/intense silly (oh, who am I kidding, it never really stops)
I'm really glad you liked it -- I think I was going to write a diary to the same effect, but this just sort of happened! *hug*
Sluggs's picture

*is glad it did* ILU!