Tag: tales of the spawn

vagabondprophet:

Embroidered

Many words I’ve written for thee

Deeds done and songs sung.

Six years ago you came

I remember it so clearly

Your blood was too sweet for safety

That it had to be diluted

And your mother

Looking smaller and stronger

Than ever before

Stumbling to feed you.

The pain in her face

Overcome by the joy

At seeing you expect her

Her soft touch and her smell

Her sound and her warmth.

That just by being herself

She could bring you comfort,

Eased all the pain of your coming.

Now from baring you into the world

Your mother now has scars

That she wears proudly,

As though embroidered with pride.

So many days ago,

So many spills and fevers and tears,

And each one is such a treasure.

My clever curly boy,

Young storyteller in the making,

Thank you for teaching me

That the most important thing I’ll ever do

Is be a loving dad for you.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry for our boy on his birthday.

I dont often actually cry over writing things but kudos

delightfulharmonypoetry:

kaijuno:

A lot of people my age are like “oh my great grandma/grandpa turned 90 this year!” And it’s like holy shit my great grandpa was born in 1873. My great grandpa would be 145 if he were alive. My great grandma is exactly 140 years older than me.

My great grandma is 86. She is 58 years older than me. 
Yours seems more normal??

Okay, like my children have met her. They have met their great great grandma. She is 82 years older than my daughter. Great great grandma. 

Why have I never processed this. I feel untethered. 

vagabondprophet:

Hidden Wings

Let your blue eyes shine

Let our hands entwine

For I delight in you

And everything you do.

You who came from heaven

With hidden wings,

You better things

With the vigor of your stance

When you roar when you prance.

Though you give me trouble

You’ll shake the earth to rubble,

You’ll end things abrupt

That you see corrupt.

With every glittering smile

My heart jumps a mile

Jump and travel

The length of my stride

My girl you’ve embodied

All of my pride.

– Vagabond Prophet

@delightfulharmonypoetry

For our girl on her birthday.

vagabondprophet:

I don’t speak toddler fluently but I’ll try my best to translate.

Beauty is mine to hold
Embodied in my hair of gold,
My daddy tells me so
As he watches my dances.

I spin and spin
To my favourite songs,
Spin so fast as to
Alter the course of the earth
From around the sun
To around the Son.

Who else could make a beauty such as mine?
Who else could make a grin with such shine?
I know this for certain
For my daddy told me so.

– Vagabond Prophet

I had been hoping to write today. Instead I woke to a piercing shriek as my baby girl bled all over the kitchen from a cut on her hand that looked much, much worse than it was. 

After spending an inordinate amount of time in the ER waiting for a tetanus shot we ended up pigging out on breakfast at 1 pm and sleeping a large part of the afternoon. 

Now it’s evening, the sun is long gone and I have accomplished absolutely nothing responsible (chores, budgeting, general adulting things) or pleasant (writing, reading, reviewing etc). 

But, at least she’s okay. Currently she’s stashing cookies her grandmother made for her to feel better all over the house. I just found one on my shelf tucked between an abacus and my stamp collection. 

I don’t know what the deal is with my brain but it is absolutely catching zero breaks. Oh, Muse where art thou? 

Maybe my kiddo scared it away O_O

Much love, 

inky

p.s 

on another note, my boy pointed out a sticker on the ER wall today while we waited for his sister to get looked at by the doctor. He was anxious because she was bleeding everywhere and pretty teary. He saw this sticker and it was the first time he smiled since rushing to get me when she hurt herself. Proudly he pointed to it and said. “I know what that is. It’s a Fla-mango.” 

Fla. Mango. 

Is it terrible that I didn’t correct him? I just kind of love that he calls it that.