Original artwork by  Korwin, go lavish his post with love: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6756811/

First of all, I want to re-state how I feel about this excellent etching of my alter ego, so here's my comment from his posting:

"Stunningly serpentine, superbly sketched scales, simply sublime snake, sir. :}===<

Perfect pythonic portraiture! :D <3

~

I've been sitting here, trying to think of something meaningful to say about this piece, only to realize how amusing that is: Ame, IRL, thinking about what to say about a picture of Ame thinking! :P

When you showed me the sketch of this, I saved it to my hard drive (of course!), and I came up with a title at that point, calling it "Amethystine Exploring", but I merely meant in the sense of traipsing about in the outdoors/a forest. I definitely prefer your title, or at least the idea of it, that Amethystine would be aimlessly ambling about while considering one topic or another. It's very appropriate for me lately, I've had a lot of time to be alone with my thoughts. So it's a bit of mental exploration as well as the worldly kind.

"A Wandering and Pondering Python" is probably what I'll call it, if you'll allow me to use that title.. if you'll allow me to post it! :} [Editor's note: He did indeed allow both of those things, as you can now plainly see.]

Going back to what I said in that alliterative announcement at the top, I really do mean that part of what's so striking about this piece is how lengthy the lamia is, and how lovely that lengthiness is. Everything about Ame in this picture is long and slender, which was always how I wanted him to be seen and defined. Not that past portrayals haven't been long, but this captures it in an [excellently] exaggerated sense. Even the fact that you don't see his tail tip makes the viewer kinda imagine him going on forever.. or at least longer than might be true.

There's something intangible about this picture that I love, but I can't grasp it (if only holding onto one's thoughts were as easy as it seems to be in this pic!), so I'll just blast you with a bevy of blessings: Thank you, thank you, thank you and thank you again, Korwin. KorWinner! You regal raven, with your rapturous renditions of reptiles! :}===<"

Of course, such an intangible affection was hard to equate to an appropriate-feeling bit of writing.

I wondered what to do to honour this lovely little bit of gift portraiture until I puzzled: 'A Poem, Perhaps?'

---

A Wandering, Pondering Python - by Amethystine, the Writer of Wrongs

---

One fine day, a young snake took a stroll,
to get out, to explore was his goal.

He'd explore in more than just one way,
with both the world and his thoughts, he'd play.

Through fields and forests, he slithered,
his cares and concerns, soon withered.

Without his worries, he could be free to think,
about the projects into which he would sink.

One's muse can be quite frustratingly fickle,
and the snake hoped the outdoors would his tickle.

Gliding deeply through the lonely brush,
over the world, there fell a calm hush.

No sound of bug or bird
was around to be heard.

Just the hiss of scutes on grass
as the python came to pass.

Forging an aimless path through the trees,
a sense of something started to tease.

Inspiration seeps slowly,
like little streams most lowly.

Serpent coils ran parallel to a creek,
and into another world, he did peek.

Inventing a realm of running water folk,
which his imagination then took to stoke.

Would they have deep rivers for loads,
and mass transit plumbing as roads?

The author left the brook to its babbling,
as his concept began unravelling.

The journey went on in much the same way,
strange designs surfacing and shaped like clay.

Odd things reached via the tangents of daydreams,
half remembered threads that lay in his mind's seams.

They were often discarded,
but never disregarded.

Stowed away in the back of the brain
for when his life could become a drain.

Perhaps later he would know just how
to use the thought of a cheez whiz cow.

Or what to do with the transformative cider
that would, of course, be created by a spider.

Random sights such as a web or some cattle,
caused such elements to, in his head, rattle.

A particular broken branch made him pause,
considering all sorts of natural laws

in a bid to cobble together a tale
about plant-like people and when they might fail.

Specifically about their health care system,
plant hospitals and what might happen in them.

Insect infestations as infectious diseases,
vines as parasitic worms, and pollen-filled sneezes.

Sighing and slithering off of the rocks on which he had stood,
the snake doubted his ability to make such a tale good.

Moving on in the world and in his mind,
he went on to see what else he could find.

Eventually, his wander came to a close,
the snake having just one thing he planned for prose.

After many half-formulated plots
and buckets of random character thoughts,

the only concept that blossomed during his roam
was to create this rather unique little poem!

---

So, that should answer the age-old question that authors get asked: "Where do you get your ideas?" We see things and let our minds just run off with some odd quality or quirk.. or, in my case, slither off with them. :P

It's not the ideas that are the problem, though. It's the follow-through of putting them all down in so many bloody but beautified words! :O