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Silas Thorne's Journal

  1. Words on Love's Passing

    by , 11-22-2016 at 05:52 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    This is an early poem of mine, from way back in 1993. Overly romantic, but here it is:

    I am the hoard of words,
    the broken blackboard's face
    with bitter words of chalk.

    I am the heart's dove-tongue,
    surveyor of the sky
    that wrestled down my wings.

    And I once heard the song
    that was sung in the hills
    when the heart of the wind
    knew her name.
  2. There's only really one way out...

    by , 01-13-2015 at 06:20 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    ...and that's through poetry. There's something hidden between the gaps, some combination of words that could make silence sing again.
  3. What I'm working on..

    by , 06-09-2013 at 06:04 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    Apart from the edits on the thesis, I'm working on a collection of limericks, which I will release on this blog. W.S. Baring Gould published a collection a while back, called 'The Lure of the Limerick'. They are kind of in that vein. Rather dark, cruel and impolite, though a few are a bit lighter in character.

    Today I also decided to rerelease a few of my older poems on my blog, which I deleted for quite a while, a few very personal ones. Anyway, if you are interested, I think I have ...

    Updated 06-09-2013 at 06:46 AM by Silas Thorne

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  4. Beginning at the End

    by , 05-19-2013 at 11:03 PM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    So, I've finished my PhD in Chinese. I've submitted it, done my defence, and after a few minor edits over the next few weeks, I'll be a Doctor of Rambling Somewhat Coherently about my field of expertise.

    But it's really only a beginning for me. I'm a late starter, and have lots to do. After the edits, I've got some translation work to do, technical manuals, from English TO Chinese. Then looking for work, doing international business, there's lots of things on my plate.
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  5. Still around, but there's this draft...

    by , 06-05-2012 at 05:23 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    It keeps coming under my door.

    I can't let the poetry, or the wonderful words of here, enter for a week or so, they distract me from the mission.

    When this draft is complete, I will write some poems, look to the Shaolin masters for training, and breathe freely until the next mission presents itself.

    Silas out
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