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Prose: Shimmy

Have you ever seen a breeze shimmy amongst the leaves of a tree? I looked out the window of the bus and that’s what it looked like. Maybe the wind would like to take up bellydancing… Then it can wear windchimes as a belt and perform for the street lights, and bask in the glow of the audience.

This has been your Quiet Moment poetic morning announcement.

From 06-13-2007, my Livejournal.


Poem: Delicious

Smooth, silky, dark
Plump, cupped in my hand
Brushing with my lips, sinking teeth in
Tangy, slick, cool
Melting, and sweet
Licking the last traces from the center.

Summer plums are truely delicious.
Bounty of the mother.


Written in my Livejournal on 06/09/2009

Ficlet: “They Just Were”, a Fullmetal Alchemist Ficlet (Winry Rockbell/Sheska), PG-13

Title of the work: They Just Were
Author/Artist: foxipher
Pairing: Winry Rockbell/Sheska
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Theme: #15: perfect blue (this was a theme challenge for the 30_kisses Livejournal community 6 years ago)
Disclaimer: None of the characters or worlds in this story are mine. They are property of their respective owners. Sheska’s last name is a fangirling of Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova from Babylon 5. Yomiko Readman (alternate universe) is from Read or Die.
Rating: PG-13

Warning: Movie spoilers, shoujo-ai.

If anyone could wear their heart in their eyes, Winry Rockbell was the champion. She could never hide what she felt, and it bothered her sometimes. It never ceased to amaze her clients when they saw the intensity in her eyes around anything involving automail. They placed their trust in her, because they saw the confidence and ability in her eyes. For those critical minutes, they were perfect, the shining blue antidote to the fears and apprehensions that accompany many medically mechanical surgeries.


For as long as Sheska Ivanova could remember, she loved the written word. Her earliest memory was of her childhood friend Yomiko, who was six years her senior, teaching her how to read letters and sound out simple words like “cat” or “dog”. Sheska had inherited the love of books from her parents, who were both middle-class, well-educated people. Books were her solace and her comfort. She would wander among shelves of them, stroking their spines and caressing their covers with a lover’s touch. Her childhood favorite, “The Little Alchemist That Could”, was so well-loved that it was falling to pieces, but to her, its familiar blue cover was perfect.


Neither woman could point out exactly why or when it happened, but they both became somewhat aware of it after their adventures in phone-tapping. They began to spend more time together, Sheska reading voraciously as Winry tinkered with this or that project. They settled into a comfortable friendship that involved more companionable silence than talking, and they liked it that way. Winry knew that anything she said to Sheska while reading would have to be repeated at least three times, and Sheska knew that moving Winry’s projects or tools was a good way to make her angry. Nothing much happened, not even after they had realized that Ed and Al were gone through the Gate for good.

And yet, something was indeed different.

Winry would lean on the back of Sheska’s chair and read over her shoulder if she was reading anything mechanical, and Sheska would feign unawareness of Winry’s soft breasts brushing her upper back, and of her breath quiet in her ear. Likewise, Winry would start lively discussions on something they’d read, and she’d pretend not to be attracted to the sparkle in Sheska’s eyes as she bloomed beneath the attention. They both felt vaguely unsettled, but couldn’t or wouldn’t admit the true roots of their feelings to themselves.

One hot summer afternoon, the two women were sitting underneath a tree to escape the heat. Winry’s neck was stiff from building automail all morning, and Sheska had removed her glasses to give her eyes a rest. Both were grateful for the break, and they sat companionably next to each other, chatting about not-much-at-all. Winry stretched, moving her neck and lifting her arms. Sheska had closed her eyes, and opened them to find Winry’s gently smiling face about twelve inches from her own.

‘Why did I never see’, she thought, ‘how perfectly blue her eyes are?’

As Winry’s soft lips touched her own, Sheska closed her eyes again and soared.

Filk: “The Ballad of Baubo Baggins”, ttto “Ballad of Bilbo Baggins”, as sung by Leonard Nimoy

Original prompt, by a friend elsenet: “Trippy filk cross: The Ballad of Baubo Baggins. Someone needs to write it!”

Originally published in a private Facebook group, by me.

In the middle of Eleusis tending royal hearth fire
lived a bold elder goddess whom we all admire.
With a face up above
and a smile down below,
she told a bawdy joke and now Thundercunts know her as

Baubo! (Baubo!) Baubo Baggins,
she’s saving us from the Fall!
Baubo! (Baubo!) Baubo Baggins,
the bravest elder goddess of them all.

Now Baubo is a ancient goddess you know,
she’s down to earth and funny and befriends Doso.
She didn’t care to travel very far from home.
She cared for the family and had been left alone.
But one day Baubo was asked to go
to the well for some water to bring back and so
she found a woman crying, lost and cold
whose daughter had been stolen to the underworld.

Baubo! (Baubo!) Baubo Baggins,
she’s saving us from the Fall!
Baubo! (Baubo!) Baubo Baggins,
the bravest elder goddess of them all.

Well she brought home the Queen,
and brought Doso too!
She welcomed the new lady
but said “I’m watching you.”
She called out for help
kept the kid from flame
and Doso then revealed herself for who she was

Baubo! (Baubo!) Baubo Baggins,
the bravest elder goddess of them all.
Baubo! (Baubo!) Baubo Baggins,
the bravest elder goddess of them all.

Now Demeter (with help) lifted the blight so dire,
and returned to the Earth the warmth of Sun’s bright fire.
Her daughter is a queen of a realm deep and cold
And everything is changing, thus the story’s told…

Baubo! (Baubo!) Baubo Baggins,
she’s saving us from the Fall!
Baubo! (Baubo!) Baubo Baggins,
the bravest elder goddess of them all.

Original Lyrics
Video of original song

Someone Else’s Words: “Rootless” and “La Sirene”

has just released her digital single, which contains “Rootless” and “La Sirene”.

It is so damn many kinds of worth it, you guys.

If the embed doesn’t work, check it out here!

Well done, SJ. ❤ Well done.

Poem: CF (A Very, VERY Old Poem)

I want to know
I want to understand
Why is blue a color
And why does evil exist
Why do bad things happen
To good people?
Why do we lose our hearts?
Why do some live long
And prosper…
While others must battle
Their own bodies.
It’s not fair.
It’s not just.
It’s not right…
I know there’s a plan…
But why does it have to be this way?

Poem: Untitled Triolet (June ’11 Poem-a-day, Day 7)

Originally posted as a contest entry to win a copy of Seanan McGuire’s A Local Habitation.

Unearthly wiles, a deathly spell
Displace the knight and find the Daye
A magic haven, fairy hell
Unearthly wiles, a deathly spell
To seek the knowe, to know it well
The shadowed hills may hold a way
Unearthly wiles, a deathly spell
Displace the knight, and find the Daye

Google loves me, this I know,
For my searching tells me so.
When I’ve lost a poem I
Find it in two second’s time.