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Marik Ishtar: Rainha do Samba by Licorice-Sama Marik Ishtar: Rainha do Samba :iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 1 6
Literature
Syrinx: 1925
Syrinx: 1925
“The evening I met you, Emilio, was an extremely lucky one.”
Federico sat on the piano bench in the Residencia common room, outlined against the murky green wallpaper that made the wood chairs and piano seem darker, like they grew out of the soil of the floorboards. He looked over at Emilio, a dark reed leaned against the oak frame of the doorway.
Emilio held a glass of gin. He raised an eyebrow at Federico’s words.
“Oh?” he asked, taking a sip from his glass.
“Yes,” Federico said, looking up at him. “I went to a student recital at the University. The flutist played this sad little song by Debussy. ‘Syrinx.’ You know the myth? About Pan and the nymph? Well, this is Pan’s song. This is what he played on the pan pipes he made from the reeds.”
Federico turned around and touched his right hand to the keys. His fingers fumbled from black to white in Pan’s erratic sob, the piece’s theme.
Emilio smiled.
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 0 9
Contest Entry: Surrealist XAZ by Licorice-Sama
Mature content
Contest Entry: Surrealist XAZ :iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 5 12
Literature
With Wings and Arrows
With Wings and Arrows
I dreamt I saw his ghost
in every stoplight last night. The windows,
black, speckled with porch lights
like fireflies. And his hollow form
misty in the glow of gas
lamps along an old bar in some bodega
stood watching, near the door,
as I was trapped on stage with song snared
in my teeth. His expression blank.
I knew him in the space before the second
hand. A form milk-white and lunar,
more translucent than mercury, and eyes
of shadow devoured every movement.
My words were his, then. My mouth—inverted—
sent promises tumbling like beads
and grapes and hazelnuts. My hands reached
out in blue silk gloves, offered nothing,
but wanted to take the shadow of his eyes, the song
snug around his neck, the olives
in the canvas bag at his side. But other voices
called me back, inside the dream,
to outside my car where stoplight cinders
still burned red against
the cold, white ash of all those ghosts.
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 1 2
Literature
That Time
That Time
Denis Flynn practically skipped down the sidewalk, sidestepping for bicyclists. If he had worn a fedora and khaki raincoat, he might’ve jumped onto the base of the next lamppost and start reenacting Gene Kelly’s performance of “Singing in the Rain,” even though it wasn’t raining. He rounded the corner and walked quickly into the coffee shop where he had arranged to meet Brigitte VanLeuven.
“Denis! Comment vas-tu?” came the voice, and he turned to his right to see Brigitte getting up from her table, smiling at him. He walked over, smiling back.
“Très bien, Brigitte, et toi?” he replied, hugging the young woman, who hugged back.
“Très bien, merci!” she sat down again, and he joined her, smiling.
Denis had met Brigitte the summer before while he and his partner, Marcelle Proust-Romefeller, were hunting a WWII ghost in Brussels.
Over the course of a recent phone call, Denis had learned he and Brigitte would both be
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 1 6
Temptation by Licorice-Sama Temptation :iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 1 9
Literature
Lui qui est Espagne
Lui qui est Espagne
J'ai désire que ta main
touche l'absence des autres doigts dessous
ma poignet. Il y a
des fissures dans la peau : derrière
que mon cou, avant
le lobe de mon oreille. Tu as effacé
ces cellules ci et là.
Et les ruisseaux dans ces effacements
sont pleins de poissons :
les yeux vague avec les souvenirs
de ton souffle,
les nageoires transparents avec la perte
de ton embrasse. Afin
que j'ai rendu compte de l'air
dans tes cheveux,
j'ai su. La moment des doigts
à travers de ma cheville
a glissé comme un poisson sans agrafe.
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 1 11
Literature
Coffee Shop Syrinx
Sonnet No. 3: Coffee Shop Syrinx
Wave a palm frond underneath the moon
and I'll know, exact, what your intent will be.
I duck between reeds in unholy swoon:
swing shut the gate of opportunity.
Stalled like a truck, mouth slack and cheeks bright red,
espresso grounds beneath my fingernails,
I watch your eyes, willing mine instead
to dry me up; crumble like sheets of shale.
I know it well, that sting of sweat, eyes down
on where the quicksand hardened in my throat
before your smile, your amaretto frown,
my lips like glass, as if I'd never spoke.
I'd hoped a second shot was all I'd need
to unglue myself before twined into a reed.
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 0 5
Literature
Mon Reve de Liquide
Mon Rêve de Liquide
Il glisse étrange comme la neige
aux pierres d'une plage d'été.
Sur les documents allume
bleu-grise, signait avec mon nom,
il vibre vite mercure.
Mon nom est mouillé comme esprit.
Je ne connais pas cette fleuve,
ce lac encerclé avec les roseaux :
C'est un pays étrange,
son lit avec les oreillers et couvertures
noirs. Fond
le sommeil.
Morpheus avec les yeux marrons,
ses lèvres pointus ; deux montagnes
de peau, des poches du sang.
Et, en sonnant mon nom,
sa voix se noyait à la menotte de sa couverture.
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 0 20
Literature
Ink
Ink (on the image Love Hurts)
                                                              Si je fais cette chose-là,                                
                                                              est-ce qu'il me fait immortelle?

I need this sand to erode the sclera.
Granules rasp with the sweep of lashes
because ink curves blue,
fades in ash like Pompeii, angling
open the mouth with a cry of white.
Concrete in city wrinkles slate:
so many words for wear, none
fit through this tapered neck.
These red grains flicked
each star burnt under this valley.
Concentrate, love, the curve
of shoulder. Slope: Kilimanjaro,
Fujiyama, Spiral Jetty in your chin.
Jetty me out in the spray
so black, so red, so blue on orange
in curl and fold of 'y' and 'soul.'
Eyes sing mascara lumped
between too many staves.
Five lines, perhaps, but the eye
on the last pitch
stretches up.
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 0 14
Piety by Licorice-Sama Piety :iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 0 0 The Mill by Licorice-Sama The Mill :iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 3 12
Literature
Apricot
Apricot
Softer than infant skin, orange rounded
inside my palm, then split along the seam.
Stippled flesh, the ooze of nectar, a dream
beneath a fingernail, knuckle surrounded.
Slide under the pit your sin, then countered
by the halo glow of sugars that gleam
and glisten on your teeth, a gash serene
between your puckered lips this fruit floundered.
There is no Eden except under leaves
in mid-July, shadows prone on the grass,
where this sin is ripe, only a whisper
to glaze the skin with holy gold. Leave me
this blunt communion, letting the good pass
as I devour moons of flesh sans murmur.
*
(A bit... Petrarchan, shall we say?)
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 0 2
Literature
Moonshine in the Morning
Moonshine in the Morning
By: Licorice-Sama
Note: The morning events of the day the HOGWARTS DISSENTERS had to break away, Confederate-style.
Disclaimer: Only Own Sapphire. Stormiya belongs to Monsieur Royale, and all else to J.K. Rowling.
*
"QUELLE CONNERIE EST-CE QU'IL NOUS DONNE!"
Stormiya Grastrophe's voice jumped the octave as he and his cousin, Sapphire LaRauss, hopped to their feet, the Daily Prophet spread on the space of table between them. All of Gryffindor looked over at the two: Sapphire with her chair knocked over, Stormiya's shoulders heaving, and his breathing heavy. Slowly, their peers began turning back to their breakfasts, three fourth-year girls giggling loudly.
"Ce n'est pas possible," the blonde muttered, voice lilting like Blanche Dubois's. Her gaze on the picture in the paper accompanying the headline:
MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR."
"Fudge est clairement fou," Stormiya growled, straightening his po
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 0 0
Mature content
Ballad of One Doomed to Die :iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 0 2
Literature
Une Orange
Une Orange (the sweet complaint)
I am not accustomed to this fruit sliding
between my fingers. My hands are too small
to hold the worm of his despair,
yet somehow I believed, by holding the leash,
that I alone was his master.
Sweet, the song beneath the orange peel
I bit into to make the fruit all the better.
As my fingers curled into the white, the oils
filled the grooves in my skin, made it glisten.
We almost shone with rain before we found
the dry dirt beneath the tree. I stared at the farmhouse
over the slats in the fence, almost dry
and filled to fatigue with the drenched dust
rising to meet the nostrils. We waited
for the storm to pass, and finally the drizzle
became our companion as we ambled
on to the queen's village with its pygmy lighthouse.
But I never marveled in his statue's eyes.
I was never afraid of being on that shore,
watching dogs plunge and plunder the waves,
the men sunbathing. My eyelids closed with jazz
wrapped low in the coil of my ear,
boats chugging around the
:iconLicorice-Sama:Licorice-Sama
:iconlicorice-sama:Licorice-Sama 1 4

Activity


deviantID

Licorice-Sama
étourdit de paroles
Artist
United States
Current Residence: A Beach-house in Bordeaux... I wish.
Print preference: Glossy & Framed.
Favourite genre of music: "musical impressionism" and Bossa Nova. Practically any Romantic or Modern classical music
Favourite photographer: Sebastian Wuttke (so go check out his dA page...).
Favourite style of art: Art Nouveau (I'm in a rut) and Art Deco (and a little bit of surrealism & impressionism)
Operating System: ...I think I'd rather be a Mac person...
MP3 player of choice: Well, I have this iPod Nano thing I use for museum tours...
Shell of choice: Half-shell, complete with Grecian Goddess.
Wallpaper of choice: from the set of "Umbrellas of Cherbourg." haha.
Skin of choice: Olive ^.~
Favourite cartoon character: Butters from South Park!
Personal Quote: "No! Love is NOT forever! 'Until death do us part' and then get on with your afterlif
Interests
...being able to play off of each other's Yu-Gi-Oh observations with obscure references (...or...spoilers? Probably spoilers). For instance...

Husband Creature: What I love most about that movie is Kaiba saying "f*ck it" and punching a hole into the underworld... to play a card game.

Licorice: I am pretty sure that was the exact plot of Black Orpheus.
  • Listening to: "Samba de Orfeu," Luis Bonfa

Comments


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:icontransurrealistristan:
transurrealistristan Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2010  Student General Artist
Re-adding my contacts from old account.
Reply
:iconlicorice-sama:
Licorice-Sama Featured By Owner Mar 8, 2010
awesome. I'll get right on that. congratulations on the switch!
Reply
:icontransurrealistristan:
transurrealistristan Featured By Owner Mar 9, 2010  Student General Artist
No problem.

I'm still unable to transition legally though.

Mom was supposed to get me the pill last year,but didn't.
Reply
:iconlicorice-sama:
Licorice-Sama Featured By Owner Mar 24, 2010
well, eventually you'll have your chance. Good luck!
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconlilpixi:
lilpixi Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2009  Hobbyist General Artist
bitch your tagged! [link]
Reply
:iconlicorice-sama:
Licorice-Sama Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2009
Oh noes!
Reply
:iconlilpixi:
lilpixi Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2009  Hobbyist General Artist
>8D
Reply
:iconlicorice-sama:
Licorice-Sama Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2009
Hmm...it may be a bit before I can get to it...I closed out of the page before posting the journal...and I don't really want to do it again tonight...
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconlilpixi:
lilpixi Featured By Owner Jan 25, 2009  Hobbyist General Artist
thankies for the fave :hug:
Reply
:iconlicorice-sama:
Licorice-Sama Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2009
you're very welcome, darlin'! :hug:
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