Victoria Janssen's Blog, page 92

Siegfried Sassoon, "Lamentations"

LamentationsI found him in the guard-room at the Base.From the blind darkness I had heard his cryingAnd blundered in. With puzzled, patient faceA sergeant watched him; it was no good trying To stop it; for he howled and beat his chest.And, all because his brother had gone west,Raved at the bleeding war; his rampant griefMoaned, shouted, sobbed, and choked, while he was kneelingHalf-naked on the

"The End," Wilfred Owen

The EndAfter the blast of lightning from the east, The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot Throne; After the drums of time have rolled and ceased, And by the bronze west long retreat is blown, Shall Life renew these bodies? Of a truth All death will he annul, all tears assuage?--Or fill these void veins full again with youth, And wash, with an immortal water, Age? When I do ask white Age he

Voirey Linger - Guest Post

I'm elsewhere today! You can find me talking about my top five favorite Marriage of Convenience novels at Monkey Bear Reviews.I'm also a guest poster today at the Novelists, Inc. Blog on "Real Writers Have Business Cards?" Please drop by and check it out!Now please welcome my guest, Voirey Linger, as she chats about the paranormal element of her new novella, Risking Eternity.#Information for an

Worms Are Eating In My Brain, Swamps, Etc.

I often think of my writing process—the part that goes on inside my head—as composting. The worms of my brain take in information, process it, and expel it. (Okay, so maybe not the tastiest metaphor….) Maybe it's more like stuff fermenting in a swamp?Never mind.My job as front person is to feed information to the worms.I haven't been writing a lot lately. I need to write; I'm on deadline; but

My TBR or The Andes?

My To Be Read book piles are scary. I suspect pretty much everyone who loves books has a TBR; if they're not the sort who keep physical books around, or the sort to equivalently load up their e-readers, I would bet lots and lots of money that almost every reader out there has at least a mental list of books she would like to read someday.My TBR consists of four boxes atop a footlocker. With

The 5th Seaforth Highlanders in the trenches

From The Great War Diaries of John Bruce Cairnie of the 5th Seaforth Highlanders, 1915, transcribed by James Bruce.#06-Jul-15A fine morning. Had to wait on after stand-to (3 a.m.) in case the Briggie comes along. Shaved, breakfasted and to bed. The redoubts were shelled while I slept and one high explosive landed just behind the parados beside the bomb supply. Fortunately they didn't explode. The

Taking the Bookmark Plunge

After much pondering and asking people, I decided to have bookmarks made for The Duke and the Pirate Queen. I am very much not an artist, so I hired Jax Cassidy of Jaxadora Design to make pretty ones that utilized the book's cover. I chose Iconix to do the printing.Jax completed my designs with a couple of days, tailoring them to specifications for Iconix, and Iconix sent me a quote within an

"On the Female Vampire," Evie Byrne Guest Post

Please welcome my guest, Evie Byrne!#On the Female VampireA monster is monstrous because it violates accepted boundaries. Often these boundaries are physical. Creatures of the twilight world like minotaurs, werewolves, insectoid aliens, selkies, sirens and mermaids cause fascination and discomfort because they are cross the reassuring threshold that separates human from animal. Vampires are

Edgell Rickword, "Trench Poets"

Trench PoetsI knew a man, he was my chum,but he grew blacker every day,and would not brush the flies away,nor blanch however fierce the humof passing shells; I used to read,to rouse him, random things from Donne--Like "Get with child a mandrake-root."But you can tell he was far gone,For he lay gaping, mackerel-eyed,and stiff, and senseless as a postEven when that old poet cried"I long to talk

Charlotte Mew, "Absence"

AbsenceSometimes I know the wayYou walk, up over the bay;It is a wind from that far seaThat blows the fragrance of your hair to me. Or in this garden when the breezeTouches my treesTo stir their dreaming shadows on the grassI see you pass. In sheltered beds, the heart of every roseSerenely sleeps to-night. As shut as thoseYour guarded heart; as safe as they form the beat, beatOf hooves that tread