Thursday, June 11, 2009

3 Poems by Allure Vultee

"Blank Paper"
written by Allure Vultee

Blank paper,
with your blue lines.
Three small holes,
on your left side.
Words flashing,
through my mind.
Thoughts I cannot,
hide or deny.
The taste of yellow paint
in my mouth.
Biting art,
leaves it's mark.
Scratching sounds,
writing down.
Wait.....

Rub away,
fustration mounts.
Emotions screaming,
to be let out.
Pointed lead,
rounded now.
Yelling out,
it's scratching sounds.
Tension breaks,
my body quakes.
Blank paper,
with your blue lines.
Three small holes,
on your left side.
I stain you,
with what is mine.


"Love on my nose"
by Allure Vultee

She sat on the edge,
the edge of my bed.
She watched me cry.
A soft smile on her face,
A loving shine in her eyes.
Sobbing I asked "why?"
" It's the angels, dear."
She softly said
"angel kisses,
they show how much
they love you,right here."
She tapped my nose
with a kiss of her own.
Then she left my side.
Leaving me thinking ...
the angels must really
like me alot,
they sure do leave
lots of spots.


"Hide and Seek"
by Allure Vultee

Trying...
Trying to run and find a place to hide.
Just like I do with my friends outside.
I hope she cant see me under my bed.
Or hear my heart beating,
It feels like it is going to pound right out of my chest.
Taking in big gulps of air.
Holding my breath
Inbetween each.
So that she cannot hear.
I dont like play this game with my mom.
She only wants to play when she is drinking and is drunk.
Underneath my bed I listen to her scream.
"When I find you, you'll be as good as dead! You little shit, where the fuck are you? I will find you yet!"
She found me last time.
My wounds have not healed.
She told me she was sorry.
And that it would never happen again.
Shhhhh...
It is growing quite now.
She is probably passed out.
On the floor?...
She hardly ever spends the night in her bed.
I think I will use this hiding place again.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Two New Galleries in The Roissy Palais Arts District

The Palais Orleans Art Studio and Designs

We would like to announce the Grand Opening of Palais Orleans Art Studio and Designs. They will be celebrating their Grand Opening Week, starting Monday June 15th, by displaying the works of four Second Life artists.

One of the artists is Roissy's Rob Barber and you *will* think about what leaps from his canvas. Madison Arnahan, who is also the owner of the gallery, presents a sensual and thoughtful play on the themes of yin and yang.

Darkley Aeon is an award winning SL photographer and six of her works are on display.
Hussy Lustre's erotica is entitled "Pretty Peaches." Sounds juicy ? It is. Take a look and support the artists and businesses of Roissy.





ALANIS GALLERY Sensual Images

Alanis Gallery, Sensual Images, offers a collection of highly individual and original pieces of work by Sylvia Fitzpatrick, Artist. The body of work includes her beautiful erotica, thoughtful landscapes , studies and portraits, all created in rl and offered for sale in Second life. The Gallery also offers a carefully selected range of erotic art by others, exploring the D/s theme.

The Submissive Female Collection is a body of beautiful original real life self-portraits by the artist, Sylvia Fitzpatrick, which explore her submissive nature. Evocative and erotic, each image, thoughtfully titled, would be a lovely addition to your venue or personal space. Each picture is limited to an edition of 20.

If you would like to buy an original piece outright, please send a Notecard to the Artist or Alanis Gallery's co-owner, Michiel Seetan, to arrange terms. Sylvia will also consider private commissions, after discussion and briefing.

The landscapes and other studies are all original photography by Sylvia Fitzpatrick.The D/s erotica is selected by Sylvia , reflecting her personal thoughts on her own submission.
Sylvia's work is now exhibited at :The Alanis Gallery, Sensual Images Roissy, Main Gallery, Original work, landscapes and studies, Ds images.

The Alanis Gallery at Differences II Erotica & Art- Artistic Influence and Erotic Passion- Origianl work and D/s erotica Ginsberg Art Centre, The erotical Gallery- originl work 􀀁 Contact Sylvia Fitzpatrick for further details, bespoke commissions from RL or SL images, or advice on matters such as locating and fitting your purchase.



The Alanis Gallery and The Palais Orleans Gallery join the History d'O Art Gallery and the Marcus J. Ranum BDSM Gallery both owned by Zena Zemlja. Miss Zena conducts seminars and sponsors the Roissy Poetry Slam.

We are fortunate to have such talented artists in our community. Please support these fine businesses.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Stone Rose by J3nny Fanshaw

J3nny is a talented member of our group. J3nny is like the rose she describes: delicate, lovely, revealing. J3nny's poem describe the heartache and dispair we all feel when we experience disappointment. J3nny is a positive addition to our group.



Stone Rose

A rose so beautiful, Cast in shade of crimson.
Blood and tear shed forming stem of strong and petal of silk.
Yet loss of love and all alone.
Your color fades and roots do wither.


You cast your petals now in stone.
To hide the beauty you once had shown.
Never more to see the light.
You crumble slowly in the night.


The ectasy you once consumed known as love,
smooth as water, now bitter, weak.
Your garden dead and hope not seen.
As you crumble slowly with the years.


Blood and tear shed once again.
To show the light you have once known.
Never more now in the dark,
Someone holds you in their heart.
J3nny Fanshaw

Tick Tock by Pearl Shieldmaiden

Pearl is yet another gifted writer from the Roissy/Blackthorne Creative Writing group. Pearl uses the sound of a ticking clock to instill in her reader the sense of time moving forward, moving in a lumbering manner to suggest the significance of our own mortality. Pearl says much in such a few words. Pearl's work is exceptional.




Tick Tock by Pearl Shieldmaiden


Time weighs heavy on the soul
Eternal ticking of the clock
Stretching forever onwards
The hour hand does mock

Time weighs heavy on the soul
Waiting for each new day
A fresh hope dawning
Only to fade away

Time weighs heavy on the soul
As the moments crawl by
Trying to find a purpose
Needing a reason why

Time weighs heavy on the soul
With each passing year
Eventually ceasing to exist
Just an endless blur
~~PS~~

blessed is the UPS (unintrruptible power supply) by Laika Karu

Laika Karu is talented in the way she plays with her reader. Laika chooses her words carefully, so very carefully. Her images are vivid, real and yet a bit beyond reach. Her reader must work with Laika to find her truths that are there like "a psyhedelic bubble over paradise."



blessed is the UPS(uninterruptible power supply) by Laika Karu

I float in a psychedelic bubble over paradise
sipping a strawberry smoothie
a little high
and smiling

wondering if the universe casts a shadow....

I wait
amused and thinking about you

feeling your affection even as I curse you
for putting me through this lesson

there is a strength in your presence
and an irresistible ease

I sense a storm brewing
hot humid and heady
the barometer dropping and i am falling
into a vulnerable space
my mind alive and restless

distant thunder announces your arrival
the deluge and
anticipation having
primed my soul
I swear it is some sort of mind control

you take me in hand and
bathe me with your benediction
the lights flicker, a dark velvety silence engulfs me
my heart sinks until I see

that the glow of our world remains

You Knew My Name by Alure Vultee

Alure writes words that touch the reader's heart. Here Alure uses repetition to reinforce her connection with her past. The repetition of the phrase "You knew my name" strengthens the bonds of sacrifice between a grandfather and his granddaughter despite the years between the pair and separates their personal bonding. Another lovely poem by Alure who is able to reach out to her reader through her words.


"You knew my name" by Alure Vultee

You knew my name,
And you fought
For the daughter
that grew insideyour wifes' womb.

You knew my name,
And you fought
For me to have
The freedomsOur forefathers sought.

You knew my name,
And you were fighting
When you learned,
your daughter,was instead a baby boy.

You knew my name,
when you died,
coming home
on that plane.

You knew my name,
Because you chose it
for my father,
the one you thoughtwould be instead your daughter.

You knew my name,
You knew my name,
But did not get the chance
To know your son,or granddaughter
.You fought for us all the same.

I Tried: a poem by leyli littleboots

Leyli is a member of the Roissy/Blackthorne Creative Writing Group. Leyli speaks here of family memories, memories that hover in her tender feelings and erupt through her poetry. Leyli's word choice reveals her talent for revealing her feelings through her art.


I Tried
written by leyli littleboots

I always thought that i could change things
When voices rose that maybe i could lower them
Prevent the fights by slipping in between
Stop the hurts so the fists would never fly

I always hugged, afraid i'd not see them again
Strange how it turned out that they are now all gone
As, one after the other, their lives all changed
And they got farther and farther away from me
I had to help them, had to try

It was my job (i'm older, you know)
They are my family
You do that for family
I tried to intervene as i saw destruction ahead
The dreams they came again and again

The hospital call, the way they looked
How could i know they did all they could?
She went first. I lost her over the years
As she became a ghost-pale shadow
Her kids lost long before she lost herself
Never looking back at unremembered times

He went next as the dreams foretold
How i wept when i heard another was gone!
A life so young, so perfect.
Why?Handsome, smart apple of Dad's eye


I tried to help through the years, speaking out
Cautioning, following, trying to change the path
Hanging out with them, i saw it all
Screw parents who can’t see writing on the wall

A cold metal slab is the last memory i have
And whispering “i love you, i'll see you soon”
Cold hands, no breath, eyes closed, peace
I kissed their foreheads as tears flowed unchecked
Wishing that I could give warmth
Give my life for theirs, please
Shouting to heaven to give them back

I'll never, not ever, forget those days
The long black train surrounded in gray
Eerie mist lay all around and chilled
Smelled of earth the worms well hidden
The goodbyes said and glossy beds lowered

I turned from this to see the drawn faces
My accusing eyes taking in each and every one
It would do me no good to say the words i felt
They could see the damage they had wrought
written by leyli littleboots

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Madie writes "A Different Time"

Madie is one of our most gifted writers. Here she describes a moment when a one responds to the touch of another. Great poem!

A Different Time by Madie
The clock-face hands
No longer measure time
When you’re in my space.

It’s metered by an oyster
Tipped to my lips
And by warm sand
Beneath my naked back.

Or a boat trip where
You slip an arm around
And pull me to you.
This is how it flies

And how it lingers.
Carried on a laugh,
However fleeting,
It can fill a day.

And when your will
Is buried in my mind,
It stands still.
JLS

Michiel Seaton's poem "How purple can it be?"

Michiel Seaton is a new member of our group and shares with us some moments of passion from his experience.

How purple can it be? Michiel Seaton

As purple as the haze
Which hung around Hendrix
As he trail-blazed
The decade I lost my innocence

As purple as the valley
I entered with Ry
Where I finally found
The second love of my life

As purple as the wine
Which we drank on the bank
Of the river in France
With our first-born inside us

As purple as the Cardinals’ silk
Which means nothing to me
As I own my own sin
And won’t lend it to Christ

As purple as the prose
That springs in my mind
When I can’t find the words
That would sing of my love
[Michiel Seetan]

laika karu "Watusi"

laika karu is a prolific writer in the creative writing group. Here she writes about a moment in time. The detail makes the poem exceptional. ENJOY!

watusi by laika karu
dirty windows imprinted by god knows what
rays -- dust swirling in a light hazelike memories

this cafe has really gone down hill
I hope no one touches me

reflections of weakness
she thinks to herself trenches a little too deep for defence
eventually swallow you whole

listening to the cry babies at the next table - a reminder of a family
wondering if they could would they put you "down"
like some inconvenient dog....

rousing yourself to focus across the room
where the watusi sing songs of revolutionon National Geographic
but there are no subtitles
so you don't really know for sure

The Snow by Randi Grigorovich

Randi is one of our creative writers. Her poetry is personal and passionate.
Here is one to share with everyone


SNOWS.

Outside the snows fall on the red bricked streets.
All is silent.
All is clean.
As if death him self had come to call.

In his room cotton cries.
Yet no one hears.
No one really cares.
After all he he no bruises.

It’s just he has seen love.
Yet love not directed at him.
But his half brother.

What would it feel like to be loved ?
He wonders.
What would it be like to told I love you.
So he cries.
The snows fall.
and the silence of death reigns.
RANDI GRIGOROVICH

Creative Writing Is Here and Now!

The Roissy/Blackthorne Creative Writing group is here for everyone. One doesn't have to be a poet or a pro. One simply has to show up. The group is here for anyone who want to share what she has written. One can simply come and listen and appreciate the talents of those who love to write of their loves, their passions, their tragedies, their hopes and their dreams.

If you want to come and share with the group be prepared to be accepted as part of others who listen and accept. Be prepared to be encouraged and appreciated. Be prepared to become part of a group who want to listen to you and respond to you. Be prepared!

And of course you may simply sit and enjoy the fun. YOU are there to part of a group who loves writing.

The Creative Writing Group meets on Wednesdays at 5:00 pm SL time in the Palais Brew, the coffee shop at the Palais Gallery. We meet again on Sundays at 12:00 at the same place. Come to one or both.

The Creative Writing Group sponsors a Poetry Slam every three months. Miss Zena of Body, Mind, and Spirit sponsors the event. The sharing is exciting and the poetry is great.

The next Poetry Slam is the last weekend in June. So be prepared.