miércoles, 28 de febrero de 2018

CRY MERCY AND GENTLENESS

An Ancient Feminist

by Karin Heyer
(Inspired by the tale of Salmacis and Hermaphhroditus)
>>>>
Outrageous, Shameless,
She outstripped the moon
the moralist cried,
‘Even in modern days’!
Moralists prefer the wavering count:
‘he loves me, he loves me not,
he loves me, he loves me not…’
She must wait,
Pained and demure,
For his first move.
>>>
>>>>
Dare I, dare I not?
I dare, Salmacis cried:
I desire this beautiful youth,
Equality does not forbid daring.
In love they were one
and thus completed their destiny.


the well

by Nat Hall

from the divine,
son of adam,
daughter of eve, fruit of apples, starts with a h-
>>>>>h for Hermes,
e for egoexperiment extraordinaire,
r for rondo written in haste when all is dark,
m as mountain – metamorphosis to winged child,
a for amour, for whom a nymph fired passion inside the well,
p as prayer to be united forever, the peculiar duality,
h for hailing “heal me, baby” in a halo,
>>>>r for result or redemption,
>>>>>>>>o shaped their lips like an omen,
>>>>>>>>>>>>d for derelict womb-mama-man
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>i incarnates
>>>>>>>>>>>>their raison d’être,
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>u for uniformed by great gods,
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>s for no one but Salmacis.
>>>>
Nat Hall 2013


Bathe

by Nell Perry






THE NÄCKEN'S SONG

The Näcken's Song

Along the gravelly, rutted rues
Of wintry Paris; worn and weary, 
Trod the bundled, frigid few;
To their home-hearths blazing cheery,
Afore the night’s unfurling gloom
Should swallow them in snowdrifts dreary.
Nay, one lady, grave and fair, 
Remain’d atop the Garnier
Enfolded in the frozen air,
Wringing icy fingers; waited
Where the grey roofs tower’d high
And gargoyles perch’d, sublime and sated;
Sentinel lords o’er passers-by,
For her love, two hours’ belated,
Until the darkness cloak’d the sky.

Christine Daaé, Northern daughter,
Flaxen locks and rosy face;
Whispers tales her father taught her:
Trolls and goblins, dolls and lace.
Of Skogsra leading hunters’ slaughter,
Children of the changeling race.
Or milking maids, who at first sight
Would fancy Näcken water sprite,
And dared give chase in blind delight.
Tho’ the best-loved tale, she oft did say
Was Little Lotte, asleep in her bed;
And in her dreams, was carried away 
By an Angel’s voice inside her head. 
On seas of song, she’d blissfully sway
Til into the night, day brightly bled.

Upon the stones, this poor Mam’selle,
In ribbons blue and bobbles borrow’d,
Breathed a song she knew very well,
Hiding hated tears and sorrow,
Fearful of the fate befell’d
Her childhood friend; for on the morrow
With the dawning of the sun,
Man and Wife would wildly run
Toward Sweden’s freedom, finally won.
Raoul de Chagny, her youthful lover
Swore to steal her away that night
From watchful, yellow eyes that hover,
Lurking in shady, shelter’d heights,
Or depths of the opera ne’er discover’d
Where darkness reigns in place of light.

Cursing cold black’s baneful tiding,
O’er her lost love bitterly wept,
Unaware in bowers hiding—
Death’s Mask—to the shadows kept;
In cavernous hell no more residing,
Closer to empyrean crept,
Bent to banish from his life,
Long lonely years; no more in strife
With Christine as his living wife.
The Shadow beckoned to his singer;
Calloused by her hidden tryst, 
He steeled his smile and wrapped cold fingers 
Round her little, lily wrist.
Above her hand his corpse lips linger’d,
Blessing it with a ghostly kiss.

And with calm countenance barely shor’d,
Vaingloriously gestured to her hand.
She braved a glance and to her horror,
Found on it a golden band:
A wedding ring, no less no more,
To bind her to the darkness, damned. 
“Erik, poor Erik,” she whisper’d low,
“Pray, do not take me there below,
‘Cross Averne’s lurid ebb and flow
To your bleak tomb’s dank recess
Where daylight bold holds little worth.
And thus embrac’d by death’s caress,
I’ll sleep upon my funeral berth.
I ask no silk, jewel or largess,
Nay—just to live above the earth!”

But Angel cruel refused to listen,
Sweeping down dark halls, unheard,
Halting not, ‘til torchlight’s glisten
Met them in the mirror blur’d.
And wounded by her grim admission, 
To his bride, cried, undeter’d:
“None, save this, I can deny!
Gentle wife, your eyes please dry;
Your husband loathes to see you cry.”
Beneath the opera they descended
Thru labyrinths iced in winter’s wake;
His boat o’er waters veer’d and bended
To his lair beyond the lake.
With fair Christine, the ghost intended
Day forever to forsake.

He asked, “Recall sweet Music’s fire?
Thru memories veil’d, sift and sieve. 
It lifted you to lofty spires
And in my song, you’d joy to live 
Beneath the spell of Apollo’s lyre; 
Music anew, I’ll gladly give.”
Her gaze was bright and glassy-eyed,
But trembling lips at once belied
Her saddened soul. In vain, he sigh’d,
“Those perilous paths, my warning heed:
A fool’s death waits, if there you roam.
Christine, take refuge here with me;
Happily make this place your home.
Now rest your head upon my knee
And listen to this fairytale tome.

“You’ve heard of ellevolk’s leafy keep,
Of gygers’ knolls, or wood nymphs’ tails
In forests bosky, play and sleep;
Or of drown’d draugs’ shrieks and wails,
And sailors call’d by sirens deep
To lose their way in violent gales.
But water Nacken, solitary,
Is wickedest of all the fairy.
O’er his fine form, maid’s eyes tarry
Til desire clouds right and wrong,
And with fair fiddle, wooden hollow,
Lures her from life’s clanging throng
To watery grave in beryl streams shallow. 
If e’er you hear the Näcken’s song—
Christine, please swear you will not follow.”

With bated breath, she flinch’d in fear
When spider fingers deftly brush’d
A wayward lock behind her ear.
Ashy cheeks red ruddy flush’d,
Leapt to her feet, lest he draw nearer,
And to her bedroom’s haven, rush’d
To bolt the door and turn the lock, 
Then hours listen’d for a knock
Til hands turn’d quarter round the clock.
Thus into dreams at last she stray’d
When all about was eerily still;
Specters cut in hues array’d
Wove their gossamer webs until
Sleep’s feeble fabric quick was fray’d
By a violin’s muted trill.

The music danced, the music addled; 
Bow strokes strong to pierce the gloom.
She rose from her bed and lit a candle,
Afraid she’d wake her ghoulish groom;
With fingers shaky, turn’d the handle,
Bent to find she knew not whom.
Mind bewitch’d by music’s guide,
She flung the front door open wide,
Wander’d to the waterside;
Down she trod, as one bemused
And knelt o’er mirrors, unaware;
Smiling faintly, nimbly loosed
The soft waves of her yellow hair; 
And in her image pale diffused,
Saw the water’s deep despair. 

Slipping to the boat unseen,
She steered the way she’d come before.
Beyond the lake, a pale white sheen
Glided ‘cross the distant shore;
The fine form of Raoul de Chagny
Her love, she’d thought to see no more.
Blue eyes wide in disbelief,
Faint heart ousting bitter grief,
She leapt to rocky ground’s relief
For northern Sweden ready to fly;
Cast away her dismal fate
To dream of morning’s blessed sky,
And dusky sunsets roseate.
She bade the lair one last goodbye
And frantically cried “My dearest, wait!”

Mid-stride he halted, taken aback,
Then calmly, languidly twist’d round
His mouth was wide and yawning black,
Yet from his lips there came no sound.
At once he vanish’d thru stone cracks
Into forbidden undergrounds.
With steadfast mettle she trail’d along,
Winding thru the labyrinth long,
All the while, listening for the song.
She walk’d in silent darkness slowly
Fearful that she’d never find him.
Fingers grazed o’er flint walls lowly,
Braced for doppelganger grim, 
When thru the murk rang music holy:
A violin’s doleful Requiem.

Sanctus did its summons sing,
Leading her to the depths of hell.
Shadows stretch’d like devil’s wings
Thru endless paths; she tripped and fell
O’er cellar rats and unknown things,
Til death hail’d with its silver smell.
Candle high like funereal mourner,
She cross’d herself and turn’d the corner,
Screaming at the sight before her:
Everywhere the walls ran ruddy,
Swath’d in red-fringed drapery;
Sick, she knelt on stone floor muddy—
There, sprawl’d cold upon the lee
Was the murder’d body, bloody,
Of her love, Raoul de Chagny.

His eyes and lips were frost’d hoary;
Round his neck, a rope’s death mark.
She back’d away; on slick ground gory, 
Slip’d and snuff’d the candle dark.
All around the Näcken’s story
Fiercely plea’d for her to hark;
Death’s cold fingers clutch’d her mind;
She stumbled through the passages blind,
Caring not which way they’d wind.
Thru icy tunnels, terror chill’d
The violin’s song grew wildly welter’d
—Fleeing, lest she too be kill’d.
Willy-nilly, helter-skelter,
Here and there; she furiously will’d
Lead feet to carry her to shelter.

“Erik, my Erik!” she cried in anguish,
Frantic in the throes of strife,
“Do not leave me here to languish—
Come and find your little wife!
You’ve won,” she sobbed, “my soul is vanquish’d
I swear I’ll live with you for life!”
Still, escape ever eluded her;
Jutted, jagged path stones hew’d her
As the Näcken’s song pursued her.
A dervish, round the tunnels whirl’d
Fire feet ached and raw throat burn’d
Until, at last, the path unfurl’d
To well-known ground, where rock met silvern
Thru the cavern, echoes purl’d
Above the noxious Lake Averne

Down to the lake front, she went dashing
Where the boat bobbed ‘long the edge
And heedless, ran thru waters, splashing
Midst the slippery silt and dredge
Til all at once, she came down, crashing
Thru a sunken, rocky ledge.
The shifting bed of Averne thunder’d
Perilous stones collapsed asunder
Neath her feet and pull’d her under.
She flail’d and fought against the rocks,
Yet they held fast, like pitiless tyrants
Pinning down her frilly frock
With crushing weight, so swift and violent,
She ne’er had time to cry in shock
Before her captor forced her silent.

Black and hellish, heavy laden
Waters clasp’d her cold limbs chilly,
Til her struggle slowly faded
And fingers flutter’d against chantilly
Clouds of cloth ‘round her cascaded,
Pale drifting like a waterlily
By peaceful waves; her frenzy slaked
And seal’d her fate, no more to wake—
Drown’d upon the glassy lake.

Along her death path, Shadow strode,
Pierced by eerie light within:
A pair of yellow eyes that glow’d
Behind a figure, shroud’d thin.
Humming remnants of an epode,
He drew from his cloak, a violin.

Bloodless face and yellow eyes stared,
Admitting neither rage nor hate,
As one who’s wholly unprepared
To see such forlorn, tragic fate; 
So slowly was his mind ensnared
By bitter care of one too late
To save his beloved, macabre bride. 
He dove down to her watery abide
And pull’d her to his corpsy side
Beyond the tumbling waves’ rote, 
From waters slithering serpentine.
In blood-red ink: his requiem’s notes
He scrawl’d on paper white pristine,
Then finally ‘cross the top he wrote
In messy letters, “For Christine.”

He placed it under her cold, dead hands
And slid his bony fingers, tangled,
Into her hair of seaweed strands
With ragged breath; his heart was mangled
When he glimpsed her wedding band,
And said in low voice strange and strangled:
“Christine, Christine, my careless reacher
I warned about the Näcken creature,
Yet you’d not listen to your teacher.
Dear, do you find this game grows dreary?
All that could be giv’n, we gave;
Now on me, rest your heavy head weary;
Know, with you, I’ll share my grave.”
With one last kiss to each eye bleary,
He let her slip beneath the waves.

Bent to do just as he swore,
The phantom return’d to sepulchral shore
And lies there, still, to rise no more.

Christine Daaé, Northern daughter,
Death-dim eyes and tresses long;
Believed the tales her father taught her:
Truth or fable, right or wrong.
Now she sleeps below the water,
Victim of the Näcken’s song.

UNE ÉTOILE FILANTE

Hugtto! Pretty Cure
Episode 4 - My Own Review

UNE ÉTOILE FILANTE

 HARRY: Hair styling! Makeup! Fashion! And more!








Later on, she and Saaya spot our blonde ignoring a teacher. Turns out that they aren’t the only ones spying on her.

 As far as these two are concerned, Homare is bad news

Seems like there are rumours about Homare being involved with bad crowds going around the school...





Homare was almost run over trying to save Snowy/Milou as time froze...




 
 The two girls and Harry with Hug-tan saw Homare coming out of a pet shop/clinic with a white terrier. She explained she saved the stray dog from being run over by a truck and she swore she could hear a baby's cries (Which is Hug-tan) as time stopped when it happened. Hana and Saaya realised that Homare might be the next Precure. 


 Moving on, some tween kids are bullying others, younger and weaker, over the use of a nearby basketball court.
Being on the basketball court, it naturally comes down to a game of basketball to see who gets to use it. Fortunately, Homare is willing to take them on.


A trio of older kids were hogging the basketball court. Homare challenged the trio to a game of basketball. She was doing well but when she wanted to jump, she started seeing an old trauma and refused to score. The trio of older kids then recognized Homare as a well known ice skater and ran off.



   It seems like Homare is going to score, but she ends up recalling the nasty fall she had back when she was an figure skater.

 Her injured leg still hurt during the match.
Saaya knows that it's not as much her leg as her emotional state (psychosomatic, phantom pain)...

 Still, Homare’s team are able to win.
After the match, the bullies realise that Homare was a figure skating prodigy. They quickly leave after that.
With the day coming to an end, Homare departs.
 


HOMARE KAGAYAKI: A RISING STAR DESTINED TO REACH THE SKIES.
"Tragic Fall - Leg Injury Means Long Recovery." 

 Saaya used the Future Pad and found out that Homare had an accident during her performance and stopped skating.


COACH UMEHASHI: Kagayaki... the first day I saw you skate, it was moving. Like you were sent to the heavens to lift our spirits. Homare Kagayaki... you are a star. Please... for once... let's try again!

 HOMARE: Stop. It's better this way.
COACH UMEHASHI: Kagayaki...
HOMARE: Thanks. But sorry, Coach.
 


HOMARE: Just... let it go...
(She can't hold it back anymore; neither can her mentor)

Moving on, Homare is out for a walk when she bumps into her coach. Coach Umehashi is unable to convince her to go back to figure skating, depressed about not being able to convince Homare to come back, and this causes negative feelings to well up within him.
How useless I am...
He then becomes Charalit’s next target.

  Homare then saw her former coach who wanted her back in the team but she ignored him. Suddenly Charalit appeared and turned Homare's coach into a theender (I SAW IT COMING, I SAW IT COMING...), who is more powerful than his predecessors due to Lulu giving new battle data to Charalit.




 





The Cures, though overwhelmed, refuse to give up, and this ignites something within Homare. A new Future Crystal appears, and Homare runs towards it.


 Homare wished she could be like the Precures and her heart awakened her Future Crystal. Harry told her to get it. (The Crystal was hanging in the air) 





But as Homare jumped up to get it, that trauma of her accident returned and she fell to the ground in tears and her Crystal also vanished...

However, Homare’s fall still haunts her and she is unable to reach it. She takes a tumble down the slope, and the Future Crystal disappears for now.
Homare is left crying on the ground, and the coach’s feelings end up projected through the theender. However, Charalit gets the theender back on track, but the Cures are ready for it.


 THEENDER (sobbing, to Homare): Making you cry again... What kind of useless teacher am I?!
CHARALIT: Get 'em, tiger! Stop blubbering, you loser!




Cure Yell goes on to deliver an epic beatdown to the theender, all whilst telling Homare that she shouldn’t give up. The theender is defeated in the usual manner, and everyone goes back to normal afterwards.
Hana cheers for Homare again, but it’s no use. As Homare departs, all that Hana can say is “see you tomorrow”.
This is where the episode ends.



 After Charalit retreated, Homare thanked the girls for saving her coach but her spirit was down after she failed to get her Crystal.
Turning her back on her would-be companions, all she could say was "See you tomorrow.."


As an aside, there are a few similarities between Homare and Go! Princess PreCure‘s Kirara Amanogawa – though I think I’ll wait until next week to talk a little more about them.
Amazing episode, and I’m not even disappointed that we only got a tease of the new member of the team. We’ll have to wait until the next episode to see what is in store for Homare’s future. 
Let's start with Homare who is definitely suffering from a dramatic setback after her performance ended in an accident. The trauma was so bad that she "retired" from skating. Of course, her classmates (minus Hana and Saaya) were prejudiced of Homare as they thought she has become a delinquent. But in truth, Homare really need to make the first step in overcoming her trauma which we will see that in the next episode.



MY OWN HUMBLE OPINION:
I am scared stiff of falling from heights myself.
And now our Étoile Filante got to make my top Cure list...
On the love front, the Good Ship Charalu is still sailing the doldrums of her friendzone.


NEXT EPISODE (5):
This episode is a warm-up to the next episode, since the preview showed Homare finally overcoming her trauma and becoming Cure Étoile. Not much to say for this episode so until then, see you in the next post!