The Things an Eighteen Year Old Will Write

*Blows off the dust*  I cannot believe that is been almost ten years since i penned this, and yet again it feels like a lifetime ago.

Merry Go Round Dreams

He came to me all in a day,
from a time and place so far way.
Want me he did ,
but from him I hid
afraid to face the offer he gave.
Fearful he'd steal me away from all that I knew.
By and by his overtures bludgeoning me,
tripping through my mind,
deliberately seeping into my heart
all day long.
Even as a lie down to bed
glided gently into Morpheus' grasp
he remained in my head.
Vivid,
alive
as the very stars,
scintillating in the pitch sky.
Wraith-like
his frail frame,
in the saddle atop is wooden steed.
Dark as night,
bounding across the recesses of my mind.
Spinning, whirling,
the closer he came
the stronger his beckonings were.
Eyes as brown and soft as old beach glass,
stared from between thickets of long lashes.
Very dark eyes,
windows
into an even darker soul.
Like pools of cool water
on a long summers day.
His smile,
full rose cupid's bow pout,
like warm sunshine playing through the
fresh spring foliage.
Sweet and shy.
As he neared
aware I became of his hair,
its beauty.
Tumbling over his shoulders,
like rivulets of nearly raven tigereye.
Spiraling, twisting
in loose curves and rings,
framing his face in all its soft glory.
A fine boyish face,
forlorn
smooth as ice cream,
with a slight nose.
In the saddle
embellished with tiny shards of mirror
his tenuous form rested.
Atop his grand steed
the tone of black satin,
its neck elegantly curved,
hair as untamed as its rider.
Graceful its body,
just like its rider.
His fine hands
resting on fine legs
dangling along powerful midnight flanks.
Above them his body,
lean and compact,
sitting in the saddle like that of a prince.
His cries now tearing at my heart,
invading my soul.
But still I do not wish to go,
to fall into that hole.
Want me he still does
from him I still hide.
Though when I awoke
a piece of my heart he did break,
and take
a ransom
to lure me back,
by and by,
day in and day out.


Here is it warts and all, about someone from my past who will remain unnamed for all eternity unless he comes here and reveals himself, which thankfully seems unlikely.

Harper vs. Harper

Raven digs the guy on the left

Warm, living, breathing musician, or some comic book hero?  Now you know where I stand, obviously in the minority if I were to go with what internet searches yield.  Do yourself a favor and check out the Roy Harper on the left, he might just change the way you think.

Wilhelmina

Meet Wilhelmina, she's been living in my barn since May.  Fate brought us together in a very unusual and unexpected way.

Some of you might be asking what this beastie is, and I'll tell you.  She's a Heidelberg Original (better know as a Windmill) single color platen printing press.  For awhile I had always, half seriously alluded to wanting to have my own printing press, yet I never thought it would happen.

Ink Cement: Very filthy on arrival, this is what years of neglect will do to a press.

Some of the junk that was cleaned out from inside.

Off and on I'd been doing a little research online about letterpress ownership and most of the time the cost of just acquiring a press was prohibitive, especially considering that I was a minimum wage factory girl at the time.  Seeing that there were other people that had their own private press only pushed me harder to find one of my own.  For those who don't know Raven has an extensive background in printing, beginning in trade school at age 16 (where letterpress was still taught) to a four year university degree.  Many of the people who had their own presses came from a fine arts background instead of a technical one I found, so going into this I knew I had a leg up on them.

All clean again.

Wilhelmina (named so because she's German) came from a local auction that sells just about everything (mostly junk, like 1980s furniture), a place where most people wouldn't expect to find a printing press.  This turned out to be a good thing for me, I now have my own press and it was affordable even with hiring a truck to have it dropped off at the barn.  I the next couple of weeks I hope to have it moved into it's final position and off the skid.  And although I was hoping to have it up and running before the holidays it didn't happen and probably won't until after the new year.

 She runs and feeds paper excellently!


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