Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 209060 times)

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1155 on: February 25, 2019, 11:50:04 PM »
Pg 63

Deadly Zone, Bed O' Bones

Lalli gives a shrug,
Cares not for the difference,
Between immunity from the bugs,
And lack of intelligence.

Along the dreamland distance,
To faraway wetland reeds.
Crossed the expanse in mist, and
Little doggo takes the lead.

In this world immers-ed,
The feline scouted mulls.
Walking the path accursed,
Along a bed of skulls.

With a flick of the wrist,
To give a tactile feel.
Where is it they exist?
It is all to be revealed...
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

MegaJar

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1156 on: February 27, 2019, 07:29:26 AM »
(Page 63)

What time is it? Iiiiiiiit's filk time!

River of Screams
(based on Billy Joel's River of Dreams)

In the middle of the night,
I go walking in my sleep.
On the pathway of skulls,
Through the river so deep.
I must be searching for Onni,
'Cause he lied to me once.
But the dreamscape is wide,
And my guide is a dunce.

I know exactly why I'm walking at night,
But now I'm tired and I don't want to walk anymore.
I hope it doesn't take the rest of my life
Until I find my cousin who I've been looking for.

In the middle of the night,
I go walking in my sleep.
On the pathway of skulls,
Through the river so deep.
We all end in Tuonela,
We all start in the stream.
We're all carried along
By the River of Screams.
In the middle of the night.

Nellie McEnt

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1157 on: February 27, 2019, 09:47:02 PM »
Sonnet for Dog
Adventure II, Page 64

Thy instincts are impeccable, my dear;
If you say turn away, away I'll run.
When I have you to guide me, I've no fear
That I'll be harmed or hurt by anyone.

My trust I give completely to you, friend,
Thou spirit-guide through foggy spirit marsh.
I know I'll never meet a bitter end
Or be destroyed by creatures cruel and harsh.

My Voff, my dearest friend in this strange place,
You know stuff, so it's back I'll go with you--
Come Lalli, we must leave here, let's make haste
Before our fragile safety wears right through.

I fear no dark reeds, heed no staring skull!
My troubles, with you, Voff, are numbered null.

~~
Thanks to speedracer for title edit :)
« Last Edit: February 28, 2019, 08:51:31 PM by Nellie McEnt »
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1158 on: February 28, 2019, 02:11:01 AM »
All Untoward, Skull And Spinal Cord

The dog is unsettled,
It wants to leave pronto.
Wants not to test mettle,
Trust him, it knows.

Let them go back and figure,
From a safer place, survey there.
However Lalli triggers
A breach in the layers.

Unsure stones, the bones moored,
Somehow perched upon them.
The Finn standing out, unsure,
On the skull and spinal column.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

Nellie McEnt

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1159 on: February 28, 2019, 08:50:53 PM »
Sonnet for a Path
Adventure II, Page 65

A field of whitened flowers softly sways
Beneath the waters blue and green and deep:
In all the dream-world's lost and winding ways,
We've found these waters of eternal sleep.

Three sunken prows, three mossy-shrouded hulls
With holes carved deep into the rotting wood;
Make fitting homes for quiet resting skulls--
You say we should turn back. Perhaps we should.

But look, the white and green, a welcome road
Form stepping stones for feet less light than yours,
And though each sign and every warning bode
Far less than well, I'll reach the other shores.

Don't hold me back; I fear no creature's wrath,
And each white skull's a stone upon my path.
Speaks: 🇺🇸/🇬🇧
Learning (and not particularly good at): 🇨🇳, Latin
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1160 on: February 28, 2019, 09:53:27 PM »
Pg 65

Doggo Whines, Monster Signs

He stare out to the void,
Steps onto the prow.
The remnants of destroyed
Ships visible just now.

Suddenly a jerk,
"We're leaving, okay?"
The Icelandic man irked
By the Finnish delay.

All the while the dog whines,
Danger lurks in the deep end?
Ghastly skulls on dead lines,
Like grim horror portends.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

Adge

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1161 on: March 01, 2019, 04:24:39 AM »
Thank you all for being so supportive - you've encouraged me to the point where I will try to put up a new chapter or at least part of a chapter every month. I should be able to clear Book 1 this year... maybe. If I can stop revising.

So this month, to finish the prologues.

Year 90 – Prologue
Great Reykjavik ruler of Iceland,
Safe in its ocean isolation,
To the Gods returned. The tide seemed good
To reopen links to the living folk,
Rare survivors of the rash sickness,
In Denmark's isle, in the deepset fjords
Of fierce Norway, in the firwood cloak
Of dern Sweden, in Suomi’s wild
Lake-maze fastnesses. So few survive,
So much is lost; so little is held
Of the ancient lands, of lore, of folk,
Though rumours echo of realms forsaken.
But in Reykjavik, riched by earth-might
By sea warded, saved by the Gods
From the rash sickness, civilisation
Is still preserved in the city's streets.
To official ears speak four colleagues,
Folk with purpose, confederate wights,
Proposing to send a party resourced,
Planned and chosen to explore the halls
Of the silent lands, the secrets lost,
The craft-hoards kept from necrotic rage.
The king-folk gives for the federates’ scheme
Gold insufficient for the full design –
Or the sociate folk themselves confront
Terror-haunting fiends, Tuoni’s doorwards,
The troll-shent souls in the Silent Lands;
In person to cross the path of the Swan.
But the group’s preference is for proxy risk.
Flinching from dole in their flesh-clothing,
The four involved, the Västerströms
Siv and Torbjörn, savant spouses
With tightened purse; strategic skald
Taru Hollola; time-spent General
Trond Andersen the tricky old fox,
Make do and mend with the money given.
The store-needs trim, the staff downcount,
Till nothing is left that need will demand,
Till they see clear their silver runs
Only to fools, unfettled, untried;
To the weary trapped by wanhope bleak,
By drear boredom, by dreadful peers,
By stupid dreams; to stark idiots
Wiseless enough to be willing to risk
A hopeless throw. A happy band
To set together in the Silent World.

Adge
Native :uk: Usable :france::vaticancity: Trying to learn :wales: Wish I knew :finland:

Nellie McEnt

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1162 on: March 01, 2019, 11:33:42 AM »
Thank you all for being so supportive - you've encouraged me to the point where I will try to put up a new chapter or at least part of a chapter every month. I should be able to clear Book 1 this year... maybe. If I can stop revising.

Holy Lalli, Adge, your language!
Like an epic poet write you!
Every word uniquely chosen,
Every scene is shown in splendor.
Of your writing I can't tire--
Never fail you to impress me.
Willingly will I await now
Every month to marvel at you.

(By the way: if Roísín reads this,
Have I writ in runo rhythm?
Though alliteration's absent*,
Maybe meter's matched correctly?)

~~~
*Well, not quite, but it's sparse
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Learning (and not particularly good at): 🇨🇳, Latin
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Adge

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1163 on: March 02, 2019, 07:15:23 PM »
Never fail you to impress me.
Willingly will I await now
Every month to marvel at you.

You really are very generous - praise from someone as brilliant as you is wonderful.

As for your poetry. the best I can do is just to say I love it.

Your poems speak aloud
But in the silences between the words
They sing.


Adge.
Adge
Native :uk: Usable :france::vaticancity: Trying to learn :wales: Wish I knew :finland:

Nellie McEnt

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1164 on: March 02, 2019, 08:48:54 PM »
You really are very generous - praise from someone as brilliant as you is wonderful.

Right back at you, Adge. Right back at you.

You people are too nice to me--
I don't know what to do--
But in this bright community
I'm glad I've met with you.
Speaks: 🇺🇸/🇬🇧
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Nellie McEnt

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1165 on: March 03, 2019, 08:55:39 PM »
Sonnet for Trouble
Adventure II, Page 66

Thou trickster of the shadow-shrouded ways,
Thou lurker in the hearts of restless men!
You whisper in my ears on dreary days
To say "look further still, and look again."

Thou wanderer within the winding world,
Thou vagrant, unexpected, unannounced!
You stir within my soul, you come uncurled
To say "fall deeper in, your cares renounced."

Thou bearer of a volatile match,
Thou striker on the kindling of our flaws!
You flutter in my heart, my hand you catch,
To say "go further now, obey no laws."

No person can give help who meets with you,
So I will seek another avenue.
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corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1166 on: March 03, 2019, 09:33:12 PM »
Pg 66

Should Avoid It, Disappointed

Something with Onni
Is definitely amiss.
But they can't help in any
Way if they're imperilled in this.

"Come on." Reynir exhorts,
It might not be his dream place.
Their excursion cut short,
They have to give up the chase.

No kinsman thus sighted,
Disappointment palpable.
It'll have to be expedited,
With attempts multiple.
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1167 on: March 04, 2019, 09:50:08 PM »
Pg 67

No Soup Or Cheese, No Mood For Pastries

Lalli sits stewing,
Behind a wall of sad.
There's nothing doing
For the Finnish cat lad.

The Icelandic kid says
To meetup again in the night.
But he remains in a haze
His food without a bite.

Putting paper to pen.
Places letters to face.
So long, maybe friend,
He has family to trace...

--------------------------------

Where Do You Think You're Going? by Dire Straits (with a few small changes)

Where do you think you're going?
Don't you know it's dark outside?
Where do you think you're going?
Are you hiding from the light?

Where do you think you're going?
You think I don't know
You got no way of knowing
There's really no place we can go

Don't understand these strangers
In the foreign walls and doors
Don't know where you think you're going
Don't what you're leaving for

And now I'm sick of hoping
I know I like you to be free
Where do you think you're going?
I think you better wait for me

You say there is no reason
But you still find cause to doubt me
If you ain't in the world
These people ain't about me

Where do you think you're going?
Don't you know it's dark outside?
Where do you think you're going?
Are you going out to fight?

And now I'm sick of hoping
I know I like you to be free
Where do you think you're going?
I think you better wait for me
« Last Edit: March 05, 2019, 02:24:54 AM by corncobman »
A man left his Icelandic home
Escaped to Denmark to freely roam
With hair braided red
He got hit on the head
With a crate lid slammed onto his dome

Fluent: :uk:
Fluent spoken, bad writing: :china:
Some knowledge: :france: :germany:
Odd word here and there: :japan:

Nellie McEnt

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1168 on: March 04, 2019, 10:43:31 PM »
Sonnet for Innocent Sleep*
Adventure II, Page 67

A smile's etched serene upon your face,
Oblivious to sorrow carved in mine.
No fresh warm food, no soft words can erase
The worry settled heavily inside.

My mind is blank, but still it darkly reels,
The blackened mass so rushed I cannot tell
If nothing or too much my swift heart feels--
If I'm aflame, or just an empty shell.

My hand shakes not a bit now as I write
To let you know I've followed where he's gone.
Perhaps you'll miss me, vanished in the light
Of morning, but I have to do you wrong.

Your smile, soft as stars, deserves no pain
But that is all I feel or stand to gain.

*Thank you Socks, I don't know where I'd be without you. Probably still sitting in front of a blank tear-stained keyboard
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Nellie McEnt

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1169 on: March 06, 2019, 07:07:06 PM »
Sonnet for the Academy

Sing praises of that fine Academy,
Where felines train, in courses sanctioned well,
To save and to protect humanity!
It's such a grand old place, and really swell!

In Iceland, Norway, Sweden, Denmark too,
Our fuzzy friends arrive from far and wide!
They come untrained, they don't know what to do,
But leave the barracks strong and full of pride!

The blessed felines, utterly immune,
Alone of all the mammals, to the Rash,
Will yowl nevermore at silent moon,
But at the trolls, so we can make them ash.

So sing and laud that fine Academy!
They train the greatest cats impeccably!

~~~
A sonnet, perhaps, in form, if not in tone.
So many exclamation marks! Is this how WE'RE THE BEST THEME SONGS usually work?
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