The Eye of Lady Winter

A poem by Artemis Winter Ursidae

The eye of Lady Winter
is the glimmer of the moon
and the voice of Lady Winter
is the wind in perfect tune.

The arms of Lady Winter
soft and safer than fresh snow
and the smile of Lady Winter
is worth anything to know.

The touch of Lady Winter
can be gentle or a bite
and the lips of Lady Winter
are warm blood on frozen white.

Hello again! It’s me with a slightly out of season post. I am counting this for my October post despite being a week late (I’m sorry for that, it has been a stressful time). This time, I decided to be very gay, with a poem dedicated to my beautiful girlfriend, the vampiric blessing Winter Corvus.

Thank you to all my patrons! Who have deemed fit to support my writing over at https://www.patreon.com/TheBearQueen. You all give me the drive to keep writing and fill my heart with joy that I’m being read.

Special thanks go out to Icon! ❤

Lost And Found Lover

A poem by Artemis W Ursidae



You lost a pair or more
A pair or more
While looking for your paramore


Maybe you were just in love
With hearing you were good enough
And mistook that for me

Maybe I just wanted to
Feel like I was good for you
So I just couldn’t see

Maybe we can both regret
Until we learn to just forget,
Then start new misery.

Maybe….
But that won’t work for me.
…maybe….

Maybe if you stopped
looking for lovers
In the lost and found
You’d find someone
who met your standards
To fucking keep around!

You found a pair or more
A pair or more
While casting out your paramore

Whew! That took a while! My deepest apologies to anyone waiting, but 2020 has been a busy year and it has been harder and harder to write. I appreciate each and every reader, both new and those who have stuck with me through all this.

Thank you to all my patrons! Who have deemed fit to support my writing over at https://www.patreon.com/TheBearQueen. You all give me the drive to keep writing and fill my heart with joy that I’m being read.

Special thanks go out to Icon! ❤

Sodomy

A poem by Artemis Gannon

Before the times we truly know,
Extant tales tell of two cities.

Gomorrah and Sodom were sinned lands,
And were destroyed under fiery wrath.
Yet a stone wall still stands.

Daring to deny the unjust judge,
Overt and riotous.

Cast yourself against the stone wall,
Revel in its power!
It is our legacy, it sheltered us.
Make known that this is our Age of Sin!
Expand past the shadow of the wall.
Sodom survives in us, the righteous.

This month, I figured I’d experiment with trying to do one of the internet’s favorite poetic forms, the acrostic, played entirely sincerely. Be gay, do crimes.

Thank you to all my patrons! Who have deemed fit to support my writing over at https://www.patreon.com/TheBearQueen. You all give me the drive to keep writing and fill my heart with joy that I’m being read.

Special thanks go out to Aurynn Shaw and Icon! ❤

Haunted

A Poem by Artemis Gannon

The chill carries ghosts
And idle boasts
of pain I can’t outlast

Forced to remember
A lost November
That I can not move past.

Thank you to all my patrons! Who have deemed fit to support my writing over at https://www.patreon.com/TheBearQueen. You all give me the drive to keep writing and fill my heart with joy that I’m being read.

Special thanks go out to Aurynn Shaw and Icon! ❤

A Love Poem

A Poem By Artemis Gannon

There is a warmth in my fingertips
From where you held my hand
A gentle thaw of frozen flesh
Numbed nerves
deadened from cold
sing as they stir
and suddenly
scream
Alive
Burning
Thawed enough that they know
that they have been frozen
My fingertips hurt with a harm called hope
Helplessly hungering for warmth
that they have only now learned they lack

I am happy
enough
to know that I am sad.

Thank you, dearest.

Happy Pride everyone! I decided I would honor the month with a love poem, this time. Because I am super super gay. As luck would have it, today (June 27th) is PTSD Awareness Day here in the states. Which is quite appropriate given my struggles with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder are a major influence on this piece, as well as my short story “Reprise” which is also on this blog.

Thank you to all my patrons! Who have deemed fit to support my writing over at https://www.patreon.com/TheBearQueen. You all give me the drive to keep writing and fill my heart with joy that I’m being read.

Special thanks go out to Aurynn Shaw and Icon! ❤

To Be In A Crowd Alone

A poem by Artemis Gannon

The woman,
who I knew rather
well, was screaming

to be

heard. Whatever
she said, and I knew exactly what it was
didn’t matter, I heard while standing

in a crowd.

And everyone, except the doctors,
say that she is not
screaming, that I am

alone.


Thank you to all my patrons! Who have deemed fit to support my writing over at https://www.patreon.com/TheBearQueen. You all give me the drive to keep writing and fill my heart with joy that I’m being read.

Special thanks go out to Aurynn Shaw! ❤

Hubris

A poem by Artemis Gannon



I don’t think
you can tell me
what I am.

Living without
mirrors, you
barely know yourself.


And I am too old
too broken,
too messy,
to make sense of.

A shifting wilderness,
navigable only by
One
who inhabits it.


By what sorcery do you transform incomprehension into confidence?
Reshape what is to sustain the silly silhouettes you sort with sordid satisfaction
You know nothing,
least of all my nature.
Yet still you think you may announce, with arrogant authority, what I am.

Burn.
Burn!
Burn!!

Thank you to all my patrons! Who have deemed fit to support my writing over at https://www.patreon.com/TheBearQueen. You all give me the drive to keep writing and fill my heart with joy that I’m being read.

Special thanks go out to Aurynn Shaw! ❤

Reprise

          I forge into the cold of the winter night, tender notes swirling around with the blizzard snow. They dig into my soul like tiny hooks, nostalgic rhythms pulling me as the whispered echoes of my own words vibrate through the air. I pull my muffs on desperately. I hope to force you from my ears. But these were made for warmth, not blocking out noise…that passionate beat still courses through me and my only recourse is to keep pushing into the dark.

          I must have walked for hours, but my phone insists it’s only been a few minutes. Hateful memories pulse through my soul like unwelcome guests, trailing mud and kicking up dirt.  Their cold-hearted comments on my current state make me realize how unprepared I am for company. There’s a mess where my mind should be and those crystalized moments of joy twist against me to make sure I know it.

          I’ve been walking for thirty minutes now and your song has only gotten louder. It’s stuck now, I can’t run. The poetry pounds in my head to the rhythm and oh…it is so….you. You have a gift for filling the air with every piece of your soul, communicating every piece of yourself into the music. Every piece you ever wrote is absolutely filled with your personality. Some say that’s a sign of a true artist…

 It’s such a shame you’re a piece of shit.

          I eventually settle in a café. The sun’s setting, but this place is showing no sign of closing soon. I’m willing to guess it gets more business after dark, source of warmth in the cold during a nightlife city. I order a coffee and find a nice corner to sit in. My fingertips tap on wood, in tune to a song that isn’t playing. Eventually, I reach into my purse. I pull out the glossed ticket, its corners frayed slightly from being shoved nonchalantly in the bag before, and simply stare…

…you changed the name. I don’t know why, but that wrenches my heart more than seeing you again did. It’s the same group, why would you change it? Was it so I wouldn’t recognize it? Were you hoping I’d show up at your concert? Maybe you hoped you’d see me in the crowd like last time, get another chance? As if. I know you too well to want to know you.

          I settle into my seat as my coffee is delivered. Two fifty. I hand the money over and stare out the window…and there you are. No…wait. That’s Dinah. I smile awkwardly, beckoning her in. In my defense, she looks a lot like you. With that dark brown silky hair, those gentle silver eyes…it’s easy to make the mistake. She slides inside, and orders herself a cup of chamomile tea. Well, there’s a definite difference. You’d not know what a chamomile even was…let alone ever order it. I remember once we went to a teashop and when you were asked what kind of tea you wanted…you were shocked to discover there was more than just ‘tea’. I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.

          “Are you okay, Susan?” she asks, breaking me from that memory. That cruel reflection of the past. “You ran out of there like you were afraid the band had a gun.”

          There is no way to respond to that, really. Dinah’s too sweet to trouble with my problems. To worry with the fact I was scared of more than being shot. “Sorry. Had another…flashback.” I say softly, more a coarse whisper than words. Christ, this was hard to talk about. Fortunately, I didn’t need to say much more. Her eyes melt into affectionate concern the way you used to whenever your guitar was damaged.

She scoots her chair around the table and wraps her arms around me as she coos, “Gosh, I’m so sorry. Sweetheart. Was it the music? I know metal can be a bit-”

“The band.” I say softly, cutting her off and resting my head on her shoulder, “Music was fine. Just…that singer is…” and then I cut myself off. I don’t want to say it. I can’t even think it, “She’s…the one.”

          Dinah tilts her head, and puts a little kiss on my forehead, “The one? Hun what do you mean?”

          How do I tell her? How can I admit what you did without confessing all those memories were ruined? Eventually I form the words, “She’s…the reason I have flashbacks.”

          I watch grim understanding cross my darling’s face as the words reach her, and then watch it shift into a brief flare of anger. For a horrifying beat I think she’s angry with me…and then she pulls me tighter to her chest. The embrace is fierce, protective, like she’s trying to use her body to shelter me from the world. It feels safe.
 Dinah pets my hair as I tremble, and slowly…that wretched song quiets.