Poetry

[Jenny (Reffy)]

SPOILER: Click to show

Over there is the field covered in snow,
The skyscrapers currently cover it, but it is there, trust me.
Just past them, you can see the old school,
Just where that KFC sits now.

See that little stall there, by the cornfields?
Best place to get decorations for fall and Halloween!
But for some reason that mall is in the way…
No matter, you can still see the old man selling pumpkins, right?

The trees surrounding us, this is where the best adventures are had
Though the trees are different from before, all hard angles and cold metal.
The leaves also reflect the glaring light more than shade it,
And the dead leaves and old dirt seem almost like concrete.

But look at all the smiling faces.
People greeting you with a “Get out of my way”
Or a “I’m busy, buzz off”
Aren’t they cheerful and pleasant?

Yes, this place I remember well
It is the same in all respects
It has only become cloudy with the years
But beneath the veil; the field, the school, the stall and the forest are still there.

Generally, its ok. It was a pleasant read and I did enjoy it - but I think you only scratched the surface with the idea.

I liked the comparison. I liked the imagery. I don't think you went into the new place enough - which is where the scratching the surface came from. There were only a few lines that gave us an image of the new place, and lots of the old. There was not enough from the new place to make a full comparison. Like the "buzz off" and the "concrete" yet we heard loads about the old man and stuff. This may have been done on purpose though.

SPOILER: Click to show

I found this jawbone at the sea’s edge,
Teeth like daggers
Stabbing skyward
Defiant of the clinging barnacles.

Did this come from some beast?
A titan that ruled the sea?
Was this god of the ocean slain by mortals?
Did the depths betray its primal divinity?

I see the scars that mar
Nothing of man could do this
Is there another lurking?
A hell-beast waiting

Watching, even now, the great ships hulls
Creaking and groaning, knowing
They know of the terrors
Know of the beasts.

Their vague warnings
Do they fall on deaf ears?
Do the sailors know?
Do they know that their efforts are in vain?

Of course they do, but they must deny,
Men are not meant to see
The lurking gods,
Those who hunt in the black depths.

They sense it in their restless dreams,
They feel it in the storming winds,
They fear it ‘neath foaming waves,
Leviathan.

LOVED. The pace was brilliant. It set the emotion of the piece, the fear, the panic, the worry - it set it very well! I also liked the continuing of lines into another sentence, yet standing alone at the same time. Good! The description was brilliant too.

This may be my favourite piece from you.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Here’s the poem I didn’t want to write
Give it to grandma, I’ll say goodnight.
Enjoy the time on the boat tomorrow,
I’m not gonna go.

My creativity is drained, I don’t want to write
You two made me, so deal with the sight
Of this horrible poem, that I didn’t want to write.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

His hands are wrinkled, spotted with age, but firm and not shaky
As he slowly stirs together a glass of CC and water
He reminds me of the bar in Tampa, old and full of liquor
“Shouldn’t you be in the bar? Mixing drinks again?”
He glances up and smiles and says, “I still am.”

[Jenny (Reffy)]

Oooooo! I liked that, Silv! That last line was perfect and really tied it together. The message/image it stirred up was vivid. The first line was also brilliant description! You didn't need to describe the rest of him because it gave such a clear Granddad image. It really set the scene and gave the feeling of "oldness." Almost Flash Fiction worthy :] cept this is actually a poem.

Only complaint: CC? ... I might be being stupid here but CC? Is that a liquor or something? I didn't like its use.

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Oct 12, 2010 5:06:04 GMT -5 Jenny (Reffy) said:

Oooooo! I liked that, Silv! That last line was perfect and really tied it together. The message/image it stirred up was vivid. The first line was also brilliant description! You didn't need to describe the rest of him because it gave such a clear Granddad image. It really set the scene and gave the feeling of "oldness." Almost Flash Fiction worthy :] cept this is actually a poem.

Only complaint: CC? ... I might be being stupid here but CC? Is that a liquor or something? I didn't like its use.

CC is Canadian Club, was my granddad's favorite whisky =P

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

The Doctors

They are heralded by pain and suffering,
They are called by the promise of gold and silver.
The scent of their arrival roams before them,
Sickening blends of herbs and flowers slowly smoldering
The petals slowly turn into putrid ash.

They are demons masquerading as healers,
Horrid devils that rip families apart, pedaling
Their false prayers and poisonous potions
Only seeking to line their pouches and be away
Away from the sobs and reek of death,

The only emotion they show beneath their mask
Contempt, for all of those afflicted.
The flames of the great pyres reflect in their hollow, black eyes
The gloved hands slowly drift from one house to the next
Selecting the victims, lashing out with great canes, and herding them like cattle.

Families pray to the Lord, pray that it won’t be their door…
The rapping of the cane sounds, the sobs choked from inside.
Shaking hands open the wooden door, revealing the monster
A vulture that looms, lording over all who look upon the beast.
The stench of rot and ash fills the home.

“Show me to the afflicted…”
The doctor is in.
The phantom drifts through the hovel,
The beaked monstrosity slowly turning,
Sweeping over the rubbish and refuse, is he sneering beneath that mask?

Or is he silently laughing?
Mocking us for our poverty?
My father begins to cross the threshold to my room
That horrible glove closes over his shoulder,
The spirit’s mouth near his ear, hissing “No…”

Swirling past him like a wicked shadow,
He enters, prodding and poking at my body.
The heavy breathing,
The foul stench of lavender choking me, almost making me vomit.
His roughened hands twist me and turn me in bed.

Then his horrid voice comes forth
Does my fever addled mind detect mirth?
“The patient is definitely in the clutch of Satan!”
You’d know, demon! I’m too weak to say it.
“But have no fear… my methods shall remove the blight.”

Blood was ripped from my body by his squirming spawn,
The fires of hell were forced down my throat,
The foul smoke of Satan’s breath choked me day in and day out.
Hardened, vile stones were fed to me, forcing me to be sick with every movement.
Through his vile tortures, I heard him seducing my parents

“There is one last procedure,
I’m sure it will take.”
“Whatever it takes, whatever it takes!”
“I was hoping you’d say that…”
Through my haze I saw the fiend entire.

“This procedure is very simple.
Relax your body, and it will be over soon.”
His thick tongue spread his silvery saliva across me
His alien hands hoisted me from the bed
And I was hurled into the flames of hell.

It was over soon…
But not soon enough…

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

The Healers

They are heralded by pain and suffering,
They are called by the promise of gold and silver.
The scent of their arrival roams before them,
Sickening blends of herbs and flowers slowly smoldering
The petals turn into putrid ash.

They are demons masquerading as healers,
Horrid devils that rip families apart, pedaling
Their false prayers and poisonous potions
Seeking to line their pouches then be away
Away from the sobs the reek of death,

Emotionless beneath their mask
Contempt, for all of those afflicted.
The flames of the great pyres reflect in their hollow, black eyes
The gloved hands slowly drift from one house to the next
Selecting the victims, lashing with great canes, herding them like cattle.

Families pray to the Lord, pray that it won’t be their door…
The rapping of the cane sounds, the sobs choke from inside.
Shaking hands slowly open the wooden door, revealing
The monster is vulturously looming and lording over all who look upon it.
The stench of rot and ash fills the home.

“Show me to the afflicted…”
The doctor is in.
The phantom drifts through the hovel,
The beaked monstrosity slowly turning,
Sweeping over the rubbish and refuse,

Is he sneering beneath that mask? Or is he silently laughing?
Mocking our poverty?
My father begins to cross the threshold to my room
That horrible glove closes over his shoulder,
The spirit’s mouth near his ear, hissing “No…”

Swirling past him like a wicked shadow,
He enters, prodding and poking at my body.
The heavy breathing,
The foul stench of lavender choking me, almost making me vomit.
His roughened hands twist me and turn me in bed.

His horrid voice comes forth
Does my fever addled mind detect mirth?
“The patient is definitely in the clutch of Satan!”
You’d know, demon! I’m too weak to say it.
“But have no fear… my methods shall remove the blight.”

Blood was ripped from my body by his squirming spawn,
The fires of hell were forced down my throat,
The foul smoke of Satan’s breath choked me day in and day out.
Hardened, vile stones were fed to me, forcing me to be sick with every movement.
Through his vile tortures, I heard him seducing my parents

“There is one last procedure,
I’m sure it will take.”
“Whatever it takes, whatever it takes!”
“I was hoping you’d say that…”
Through my haze I saw the fiend enter.

“This procedure is very simple.
Relax your body, and it will be over soon.”
His thick tongue spread silvery saliva across me
His alien hands hoisted me from the bed
And I was hurled into the flames of hell.

It was over soon…
But not soon enough…

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Beneath the golden sun
And sylvan shade
Kingdom of magic forgotten
And alone in this land of myth

Far to the south
Eldre’thalas, it lays
Hidden and waiting
Whispering and watching

With sigils carved and glowing bright
With demons howling in the dead of night
Nobility reigning over decayed gloom
Mages practicing ancient doom

Eldre’thalas, the last kingdom
Of the royal blood of fire
Of arcane and frost
Of learning, all that shall be lost

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Poems done for the character descriptions of mine and my girlfriend's Forsaken:

As pale as fresh snow on raven's back
Mostly from the blood that's drained
Or frozen within his veins to form
A spiderweb of black.

With eyes that would set the world afire
Cupped in rotten palm covered in civil blood
With talons curled around eyes that would flood
The world with tears and make of men a liar.

His lower jaw long since fallen
Chiseled and strong as the earth
But none could save it once
The flesh had rotten.

Fairest hair of spun gold
Now lost and fallen away
Those hairs not gone astray
Are mildewed and covered in mold.

Oh fairest Boneo,
Whose flesh is thinned and clear
Whose bones will break and tear
Oh fairest Boneo.

He whose tongue wags
Whose drool drips to tunic
Whose speech would frighten a eunuch
Whose faith flags.

Fairest Boneo...

~~

Oh fairest Ghouliet, with skin
As green as the spring
Whose face radiates suffering!
Whose waist is near gone, she is so thin!

Fairest Ghouliet, with eyes
Gone and only sockets, two pools
Of blackest shadow and ooze that drools
A beauty for which one dies!

Her bones, moldy and musty
Yellowed and green
Her gnashing teeth, black and unclean
Her limp hair, fairly dusty.

Is that gooseflesh on fair skin?
Or maggots, writhing beneath
Wouldst that she would bequeath
One to he whose heart she shall win!

Ghouliet, Ghouliet, who is as fair
As the rotten land to the east
Whose body has gone from most to least
She who lives in an underground lair.

Fairest Ghouliet,
Thou name would set the heart aflame
If it did not beat so cold, nor was so lame
Thou name would make fair Boneo drool… iet.

But then what does not?

[JMDavis ((Silver))]

Sword of Eternal Flame raised on high,
Daemon bound in mortal skin,
Whose eyes that weep angelic sin,
Whose mouth does spout wicked lie.

Saviour, they hail him in a
Hundred voices do they proclaim him,
A thousand tongues to shame him,
An empire he forged to defame.

King, Emperor, God,
Conqueror, Murderer,
Monster and Perjurer,
Salvation lost, Damnation

Raised on high in frozen iron
Forged in blood and loss
Made for him at terrible cost
Song of glory sung by his siren

His name an immortal curse,
His history a golden work,
His life a blackened mark,
His death, the end of this verse.