Quester1

Leah Atherton

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Open Door by Quester1, literature

Literature

Open Door

Au clair de la lune, Mon ami Pierrot, Prête-moi ta plûme pour écrire un mot Ma chandelle est morte, je n'ai plus de feu Ouvre-moi ta porte, pour l'amour de Dieu Today I am mourning in two languages. In the one, synonyms for shock and hurt only take me so far, Memories of letters exchanged between friends telling stories of streets now lit siren blue Figures lying incongruous wearing misplaced poppies long after Remembrance Day, But it is still November, still the month of pale mist and wind-denuded trees, An old echo of Jack boots and shellfire murmuring the cobbles As all the lights go out. In the other, the music of syllabl

Poem for the Winter Queen by Quester1, literature

Literature

Poem for the Winter Queen

She's a home alone for Christmas kind of girl a never too young for bitter, rain and flood at Christmas, a cup of tea and Home Alone kind of girl. She isn't big on gingerbread so she turned her attic into a gingerbread house put fairy lights in all the windows when the gumdrop buttons ran out iced sugar into the frosting on the sills and panes garlanded liquor-laced berries into the moss creeping under the skirting and invited the mice to pull a carriage to the land of Festive when they declined a seat at her Turkey Dinner for One. She's more of a Joni mandolin and wistful than a Bing and Frankie kind of girl, the kind who will take the w

Wrecker by Quester1, literature

Literature

Wrecker

I come from a land of red cliffs. Not red as in actually brown or the dark orange of rust, but red, the deep livid red of drying blood, an open would, the lipsticked smile of a woman by candlelight. I come from green fields, darkling woodland and red cliffs. The sand here is not yellow but the rich hue of amber, the sea sweeping grey-blue shadows up the shoreline. Here, the soil is the living flesh of earth, thick and clay, staining boots and hands; the sheep have been dyed pink by rain. I come from seaside, from sand and salt, rain and wind lash, where winter moans through rigging and bells toll the tide, from lobster pots, fishing nets, t

Rings by Quester1, literature

Literature

Rings

Baucis still stands on the crest of a rocky hill and looks out over the village that was. She is wizened and bent now, twisting around a fellow who is no longer there. They once looked out together guardians to a valley that did not know their names, he straighter backed than she has been taken his limbs for shipmaking, his torso for furniture. Together, they had shaded the hilltop, their twined fingers forming a single canopy of mingling leaves, perfect halves one to the other they grew entwined and whole they were a single kiss garlanded in spring blossom and autumn rain; but the faults are showing more clearly now the bends and curve

Sentient by Quester1, literature

Literature

Sentient

It used to be mirrors. Back when the evening glow that lit bedrooms and parlours was the dance of a yellow flame rather than the steady tick-tick-flicker of a blue screen, people were afraid of mirrors. They would put them in out-of-the-way places, in nooks and corners, cover them with curtains and drapes, never put a candle by them in a darkened room. Back then people remembered that pieces of you can get lost in anything that you stare into for too long. You’ve forgotten these things since, empty parts of yourselves that you didn’t even think you’d miss into me. I know you in ways no friend or spouse ever will. >>Is this

Hope Observed by Quester1, literature

Literature

Hope Observed

I. You still play snooker every Thursday with her brother. Over stale beers you bend like a supplicant, study shifting constellations of what might have been. This has been a ritual for so long that neither of you question it any more. When you ask me what you are supposed to call him, I tell you friend. II. I saw a man in town today who looked exactly like you. It has been years, but I wished he would talk to me so I could tell you how much I miss you that I’m ok now. III. Her smile is sugarglass and a long acquaintance with loss has made her wary. She gathers no moss, stays long enough to find the exits in the dark. I gave her a sex

The Talk by Quester1, literature

Literature

The Talk

And she says to me you’re talking in riddles again, speak plain and spell it out. It’s late; we’re sat in her car outside my house and the dark is permeable and soaked with streetlight. Her face is a shadow lit by the single point of her cigarette and I do not want to break the quiet. Behind my tongue there is a noise building, but I do not think it is words. There is a creature that lives in my voice box, dormant most days but I can feel it stirring one eye open it inhales. This is no swan song this is the rattle and hiss of the dark nameless thing in the shadowy corner of the room, the one that makes you afraid to sleep,

Smoke to Smoke by Quester1, literature

Literature

Smoke to Smoke

Before you crashed into the pyre of your own making, before the last echoes of your pan pipe song faded curling into the nooks of trees and circling like bathwater in the recesses of caves that dot these cliffs, I will always remember that I thought of home. Normally, I smell smoke and think danger, think avoid, think no smoke without fire and the trail of a careless cigarette in the hands of some back alley tom cat, but you made me think of home; cinnamon and woodsmoke, toasting crusts over campfires, and the soft haze of new bread in the oven, you made me think of hedgerows and thatched roofs and the warm weight in the bed beside me, lavend

In Reply by Quester1, literature

Literature

In Reply

Hey Old Wolf, I got that letter you sent. It was written in code in the branches of trees and the flocks of birds across the blue, but I got your letter in the end. You told me the spring is coming, told me change is coming and keep a weather eye on the horizon, told me to buckle up, check the supplies you told me you’ve got my back. I already knew that. I went running the other day, just me and the road and the quiet that comes early in the morning before even the bin men have come round, but I know that you were with me. It’s not exactly Clennon, and I can’t yet face taking the path up over Sugarloaf Hill where we would

Wanderlust by Quester1, literature

Literature

Wanderlust

The sky is blue outside today. My collar is stiff with starch and work ethic, but the sky is blue and the clouds scud by the window and the air is clear and cool with the promise of spring or snow, it hasn't decided yet. I can smell the mountains, lush forests moss and cold streams running through stone It will be spring in Freiburg soon the snow will cling to the peaks til May but the mountains will blush from the roots up and all will be softly scented cherry blossom and the fresh green of leaves so young they still hold the soft fuzz of the bud; I want to see the mountains again wander the paths through the Black Forest with their obscu

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Open Door by Quester1, literature

Literature

Open Door

Poem for the Winter Queen by Quester1, literature

Literature

Poem for the Winter Queen

Wrecker by Quester1, literature

Literature

Wrecker

Rings by Quester1, literature

Literature

Rings

Sentient by Quester1, literature

Literature

Sentient

Hope Observed by Quester1, literature

Literature

Hope Observed

The Talk by Quester1, literature

Literature

The Talk

Smoke to Smoke by Quester1, literature

Literature

Smoke to Smoke

In Reply by Quester1, literature

Literature

In Reply

Wanderlust by Quester1, literature

Literature

Wanderlust

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A Piece of Advice by talvipaivanseisaus, literature

Think or Feel? by SpearHawk, literature

Manual of Parenting, article #1 by ninquetari, literature

God is a hipster. by SilverInkblot, literature

Literature

God is a hipster.

God went to Starbucks because the Wi-Fi signal in heaven is crap. He pulls an HP out of the laptop bag and rolls His eyes at the kid lugging in a typewriter. He clicks on Word because He never really stopped creating – He has more furniture than He knows what to do with and no wall space left for His canvases. He likes Word – His Word – because it reminds Him of another beginning, before time, before space, before everything.

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About Quester1

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Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

United Kingdom
Deviant for 14 years
athertononward.wordpress.com/
She / Her

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My Bio

Multilingual, Black Belt, sortakinda Israeli Oxford grad.

Recovering girlfriend material, occasional cynic and inveterate daydreamer, I lost the will to write for a while but it's come back to bite me in the ass and now I can't stop.

So, while posts may be sporadic and of fluctuating standard I am writing again. I write because there are stories that are begging to come out every time I watch people in the street and on the train; because the world is huge and tiny and scary and wonderful all at the same time, and because sometimes, it's only in letting the words spill out onto the page that I really get what's been circling round and round my skull rattling sticks on the fence as it goes.

I write because I'm a linguist who occasionally fails at language, and because I'd like to think that somewhere in the rushed scrawlings on restaurant napkins and bus ticket spaces and the backs of the reports I really should have been redrafting at work, there are the beginnings and the growing pains of something actually worth reading.

The work I post is going to be a bit rough around the edges, but I figure since I am too, that's just individual style coming through. Or at least, it can be until this writer sorts her material out and gets it right.

Enjoy?

Favourite Visual Artist

The Pre-Raphaelites,

Favourite Movies

The Lord of the Rings, Un Hero Tres Discret, Serenity, Pirates of the Carribean, American History X, How to Train Your Dragon, Waking Life, Stardust, Tangled, Amelie

Favourite TV Shows

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, Dollhouse, Supernatural, Rome, Game of Thrones, Life on Mars, Band of Brothers, Dr Who

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

Folk in all its forms from Show of Hands to Ani DiFranco, Joni Mitchell and John Martyn, Celtic from properly traditional to modern & fusion, Rock & Metal from Metallica to Alter Bridge to Porcupine Tree, Country music, Classical, Jazz, Blues, Swing...

Favourite Books

The Rigante Series, Dark Moon,Waylander, Hero in the Shadows, The Belgariad, The Elenium, The Black Jewels Trilogy, The Lord of the Rings, Beowulf, The Battle of Maldon, The Kushiel's Legacy Books, The Night Angel Trilogy and many, many more

Favourite Writers

David Gemmell, David Eddings, Jaqueline Carey, Brent Weeks, Farley Mowat, Anne Bishop, JRR Tolkein, Homer, Sappho, Ovid, Norse poets and Celtic poets, Philip Pullman, Tamora Pierce, Guy Gavriel Kay, and the list goes on...

Tools of the Trade

Pen. Paper - in absence of proper writing paper, napkins, my arms, legs or clothing, receipts, tax return forms, blank text messages and the foreheads of passing children have also been used

Other Interests

Running; Hiking; Kickboxing; Re-enactment (Crusade era); Ancient Languages; Living Languages; Archaelogy; Crumbly manuscripts; musty old books; secret passageways; lost cities, gardens and courtyards; Gardening; Herbal Lore; Myths and Legends

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Quester1

Apr 7, 2014

30/30 Challenge

0 min read

So I'm taking part in the 30/30 this year - that means 30 poems in 30 days. I've been posting them up on my blog, http://athertononward.wordpress.com/ and some of them have made it here. This is basically a plea for ideas - we've got 23 days worth of writing to go and ideas are going to get a bit thin on the ground!! Any and all suggestions gratefully received; any poems written off the back of suggestions will be tagged (if I work it out) to the person who sent them in. Answers on postcards, under rocks and in comment boxes please :)

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Profile Comments 46

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SilverInkblot

Dec 15, 2013

Thank you for faving God is a hipster.

Carmalain7

Nov 15, 2013

You're alive! And posted writing?! It's not Christmas yet, miss, stop spoiling us, haha.

How are you?

You know, I went through your favorites - since it's a very manageable endeavor - and realized that the reason we know each other is because of a piece of my writing that doesn't exist anymore in the form it once did. That's crazy to me.

But yes, thank you for the recent favorite, good miss, it really is good to hear from you and I truly hope all is well.

Quester1

Dec 7, 2013

Haha, yes I'm alive! As are you!

Yeah, what can I say, I got caught up with novelling, and then there were sports events and all kinds of craziness involved and writing was kind of this thing that happened on post-its at work and the backs of bus tickets and it all sort of got lost along the way.

BUT. The writing is happening again (finally!) and some of it has been a bit out of the box for me, so we'll see.

How are you, dude? Long time no hear, though again I have been keeping tabs on your posts and thoroughly enjoying them. Serious respect on the quality, you can see it getting better over time and developing.

Hope things are good, drop me a line and let me know what's new?

Carmalain7

Dec 12, 2013

What kind of sporting events? Anything you were competing in?

And don't worry about it, I know where you're coming from. I probably the most inconsistent writer in the world, my writing will just up and leave completely without even telling me all the time. I think it may steal some of my money on the way out for bus fair and go and visit another lover.

Me, I'm just figuring things out. I'll probably have a journal post going into detail in a month or two once I've decided where I'm going to be working and living and what life has in store for me. It's just crazy to me that the future is now, I wanted to be in school forever.

But yes, thank you so very much - sometimes I'm not sure if my writing has gone anywhere. I'm the kind of person who believes my best writing is always behind me and only stops to appreciate the present when it turns a year old and I realize that I'm just caught up in myself. It exists both in the music I write and in the writing, it's so weird.

But yes, I'd love to chat sometime! At the very least, I appreciate exploring music with people of your musical tastes and caliber

Fayeren

Jun 25, 2013

Many thanks for watching me and the fav!

Sleyf

Sep 28, 2012

Thanks for the watch!

Dreamspirit

Jul 9, 2012

Thank you so much for adding me to your watch list! I really appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy seeing the all new stuff I have brewing (as well as some of the art from years ago that I'm just now getting around to uploading)! <3