Author Topic: Poetry collection  (Read 238246 times)

Adge

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1305 on: October 25, 2019, 09:23:15 PM »
Róisín - loved your dog poem - just captures that moment of awakening, of  a welcome death, so perfectly
Adge
Native :uk: Usable :france::vaticancity: Trying to learn :wales: Wish I knew :finland:

Róisín

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1306 on: October 26, 2019, 12:07:28 AM »
Adge, thank you! I’m glad it worked!
And Corncobman, those are witty and clever.
Avatar is courtesy of the amazing Haiz!

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1307 on: October 27, 2019, 11:08:23 PM »
Pg 176

Better Than Nought, Under Watch By The Pot

This plan that they've got
Isn't the most solid sounding.
But it's better than nought,
Hopefully a trail can be found, eh?

Leaving camp spots as clues
To where he's been before,
Which the crew can then use
To track Onni furthermore.

The rest snore, sound and safe,
Under cape-blanket and tent.
Meanwhile the two debate
About their further movements.

A circle of loops and arrows,
To keep unwanted guests repelled.
A hand-painted simple macro,
With inherent hidden spells.

This discussion concludes
Under the watch of the night.
Within the ring they brood,
Protecting their camp site.

(Thanks Raisin, I mean Róisín)
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 #1308 on: October 28, 2019, 11:52:28 PM »
Page 177

Eyes of the Seagulls
(based on Survivor's Eye of the Tiger)

Stationed out at the north gate.
Got my gulls, got my magic.
Had some outbreaks, now we're back on our feet.
I'm the mage who can help us survive.

So many times, it happens too fast.
You trade your free will for slavery.
Don't lose your soul, or I won't let you past.
I must fight just to keep us alive.

It's the eyes of the seagulls, it's the sentinel mage.
Risin' up to the challenge of a Kade.
And the last known attacker stalks his prey in the night.
But he's watched by a mage with the eyes...of the seagulls.

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1309 on: October 29, 2019, 11:52:33 AM »
Pg 177

Eyes Of Gulls And Crows, Vipers And Sparrows

Sentinel mages appointed
At each of the sections.
Their eyes can't be avoided,
Surrender to their inspection.

At the passage south-west,
The Eyes of sparrows.
With great stature blessed,
No-nonsense there goes.

To the passage south-east,
A joyful old rose.
Black birds there policed,
Stationed, Eyes of crows.

Of the westwards passage,
Eyes of vipers study.
This entryway managed,
By surveyors cold-blooded.

And last, the passage north,
The Eyes of gulls met.
Crazy eyes watching forth,
And a bell like a pet.
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 #1310 on: October 30, 2019, 11:24:10 PM »
Pg 178

Whole Lake System Covered, More Mages With Birds

The stations overview,
Strategic focuses.
By the settlements, to
The straits' openings.

Sentinels possessed,
A risk in occupation.
Safeguards kept abreast,
With familiars' observation.

The mages selected have
Strong bonds with their critters.
If the sentinels are defective,
The creatures' acts are considered.

Even more so an absence
Of familiars would be suspicious.
People could tell at once,
Signs of something malicious.

More mages trained, clearly
The council has clear proposals.
The whole lake system in theory
Would be safeguarded in total.

To have the skills they need
Would take several years time.
The gull-mage isn't worried,
It'll be 30 years 'til he resigns.

All that needs to be done until
The time he finally retires.
Is have someone with the skills
And experience that is desired.
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 #1311 on: November 01, 2019, 07:36:10 AM »
Chapter 7 (part 1)

Copenhagen, kingstead and seagate
Of the royal Danes, by rash-taint shent
To a troll haunting, yet treasure holds
In the dripping steads of the stink-brooks
And slime-clad ruins, rotting witnesses 
In streets time-felled. Strays kin-bonded -
Cat guard-mother and kitten unweaned -
In a hole woning - a haven safe
From corrupted beasts and roaming foes -
In a long-shent school. But the lore-seekers
Camped not far off, cat-tank and bodies
Wash from rash-taint, for work preparing
Sigrun and Emil, their sye that school,
That wet, decayed, weather-ruined shell
Of the cats' dwelling, ken-hoards seeking
And riches unguessed. Reynir, callow-lad,
Yearning to be held a useful wight
To the group members, grasps the moment:
Tuuri skald-maid for tasks he begs,
Pesters for work, as she pores over
The reft volumes; riled and cunning
She inveigles the lad into leaving the van
And locks the door. His lesson grasped,
In cold sadness callow Reynir,
Mood-fallen lad, by Mikkel blamed
For risking taint of the rash sickness,
Is told to sleep, for tene are dreams
In the Silent World. Sad-hearted Reynir
Denies dreaming, but knowing Mikkel
Suades him all sleep with swevens is weft
Forgot at dawn. So good Reynir
His bed cosies to a better mood.
But the reiving pair a rough way trace
To the derelict school, doors and windows
Jammed with creepers and junk tumbled
From ceils and floors. Sigrun, wise-eyed,
Hard-handed thegn, to thump a hole
In the door offers, but Emil unfettled,
Eager to shine, a shoulder hurls
At the flimsy door - the floor halts him
On the shent panel. Unsure in schools
Sigrun war-maid assistance asks
Of her grounded thegn where the gradely reif
Likely is kept. Reluctant, Emil
Queries how safe is seeking wide
In an unkenned holt; canny troll-hunter
Sigrun sword-wise safety proclaims;
In so crap a stead creatures rash-marred
No protection find. So the two search
And unshroud a hoard, shelves of goodies:
Books for the skalds, and boxed plastic
Iridescent discs, that Emil kens
And clepes 'gramophones', clapping for delight
At the perfect find. But pattering hoofs
Of running deer interrupt scanning –
The band are smit with beast terrors.
Callow Emil cocks his weapon
But Sigrun wise, war-fettled maid,
His aim counters, the eyes of the deer
Unwemmed, taintless, well reveals them
Untouched by rash - then turns again
To see the meat safe to dine on
But late her thought as the leapers weave
A quick escape. Quiet in wain-home
Reynir dreaming drifts as a mage
To the waters cold, waking in sweven
On a skiff resting in the scaup's playground,
The main's fringes, mid frozen shores
And rocks iceclad. But a rogue visitor,
A doglike beast, doomed by the rash,
Climbs the gunwale of the galder-boat,
The mage-sea scow, scaring Reynir
Out of the wherry to the whale’s domain,
To the fearful deeps. Yet forth he wends
As the seal-realm's skin, unscathed by his heels
Bears Reynir's weight, well supporting
The mage dreamer. Merry he hirples
To the realm-shore, to the rock-gated path
Closing the sea-road. Clambering in
Reynir herd-mage his hound welcomes,
His fylgja greets, fondling, cuddling,
Watched by the sheep on the way forward
On the path unsought to a portal dern
Where shadows hint at a shore unknown
To Reynir's feet. Redeless, searching,
The sheep-lad threads the gateway's throat.
His way takes him to a water land
Willow-clad meres, that wading feet
Can pass wet-shod to a pool of quiet,
A water-holt, wound with a board-path.
There wise-eyed scout work-tired Lalli
Rests in slumber on a raft of planks.
Callow Reynir, courtesy lacking,
Wakens Lalli, welcome expecting,
Wrath answers him - roots and branches
Erupt from the pool and wrap the noita.
In an osier holt hiding from Reynir –
Lalli night-scout lurks in safety
While Reynir stunned reels from his anger
Lost in rejection, his lesson grasped,
In cold sorrow callow Reynir,
Mood-fallen lad, the mere crosses,
Wandering lost till a wall hits him
And Onni’s face - ominous vision –
Looms in anger and lugs Reynir
Through the barrier, misthinking the lad,
Callow, harmless, for a kade ill-willed,
To condemn swiftly to the dark beyond -
A fate merciless. But the feckless boy,
Reynir, startled, recognises
The face, treasured in a photo seen
In a sister's charge; he softs Onni,
Protective mage, of Tuuri speaks
Reassuring words of a shaping team
And a sister skald safe as can be
And happy in face, but hiraeth’s blain
May lurk within. Lalli mage-scout
Onni’s dream-realm entry granted
Denies fellowship with novice Reynir
Mannerless boy, mage untested,
Frommed stowaway, friendless weakling,
Defenceless seidh. But fearful sib
Canny Onni a cautious word
On his tongue framed, a tactful speech
Not unwelcoming to a new mage,
Seidh-guardian for a sister far
From a brother's care. Callow Reynir
Newness-fearful fades to waking
As cousin-mages recount their news
Acknowledging their need for links
Through the mundane and the mage worlds
That sele Reynir, seidhkarl clumsy
Should not be asked to open for them
For fear of It that for Onni noita
And scout Lalli scans incessantly,
Their only holt Onni’s mage-realm
Where Lalli scout his lair downsets
Safe till waking. Settled, Onni
Frains his cousin if friends he's found.


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

Róisín

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1312 on: November 01, 2019, 10:08:21 AM »
Love this! Your language never ceases to delight.
Avatar is courtesy of the amazing Haiz!

corncobman

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1313 on: November 04, 2019, 09:28:30 PM »
Pg 179

Suspended, Extruded, Upended And Rooted

Ramble on in file,
Making the hard yards.
It better be worthwhile
Through the graveyard of cars.

Open rooftops ripped,
Suspended and posed.
Roots and branches gripped,
Raising up as they grow.

For explanations over due,
Ever onward still going.
As they blindly continue,
Continue their following.
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 #1314 on: November 08, 2019, 01:03:35 AM »
Pg 180

When The Light Shines, Why The Trip Lines?

With the morning times,
Stretching up tall.
Finding trip lines,
Acorns and all.

Stretching to the canopy,
Down to waist-height.
Touching it gingerly,
Nothing happens, alright.

What does it do?
Unknown purposes.
Some kind of tool
To detect disturbances?

Not even Lalli has a clue
As to the wire uses.
If only he knew,
Even he can't deduce it.

The zig-zagg-ed wires left.
Go the cats and the humans.
Continue walking in footsteps,
For the ultimate reunion.
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 #1315 on: November 09, 2019, 06:46:55 PM »
Chapter 7 (part 1)

I love this??? Especially the use of the word "wight"??? Amazing
Speaks: 🇺🇸/🇬🇧
Learning (and not particularly good at): 🇨🇳, Latin
carpe diem

:A2chap01: :A2chap02: :A2chap03: :A2chap04: :A2chap05:

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  • Bragi
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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1316 on: November 09, 2019, 09:48:18 PM »
Adventure 2, Page 180

With sunlight bright, the morning breaks
And slowly, yawning, sleepers wake
To wander far neath tree and star
To find the path the lost one takes

The path is marked with cone and string
Between the trees it slowly swings
To guide the way when light can’t stay
When eyes are closed and birds don’t sing

Yet where it leads and what it shows
The sleepers woken hardly know
Their great unrest, their lonely quest
To find the lost before he goes
I write poetry sometimes.

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Ruler of Changi Airport

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1317 on: November 09, 2019, 09:49:41 PM »
Adventure 2, Page 179

The old machines of times gone past
Now lie abandoned in the grass
Their engines stilled, their windshields pierced
With tree-trunks reaching tall and far

Past rusted car and winding stalk
The quiet searchers slowly walk
The dappled light shines through the leaves
As faces look, as pale as chalk
I write poetry sometimes.

Icon by the amazing Rithalie from the SSSS discord (rithalie-art.tumblr.com)

Ruler of Changi Airport

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1318 on: November 09, 2019, 09:51:43 PM »
Adventure 2, Page 176

The skulls hang high upon the tree
The campfire smoke drifts in the breeze
As two discuss what lies ahead
While three sleep sound beneath the leaves

The water still reflects the light
Of northern summer’s dusky night
A circle strong protects the five
From roaming troll and desperate fight

The future’s hope is hard to find
Yet no despair shall cross their minds
To follow now the roaming trail
Of what the lost mage left behind
I write poetry sometimes.

Icon by the amazing Rithalie from the SSSS discord (rithalie-art.tumblr.com)

Ruler of Changi Airport

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Re: Poetry collection
« Reply #1319 on: November 09, 2019, 09:53:06 PM »
Adventure 2, Page 174

We’ll camp here for the night - it’s safe
From nests and raving trolls
So set up tent and light the fire
Paint runes in circles whole

Don’t fear the skulls that perch up high
The scenes of slaughter past
The blood that stains, the skins that stretch
From branch to leafless branch

The dead will bring no harm to you
Their bite can touch you none
So sleep beneath the skins and skulls
Til dawn and day do come
I write poetry sometimes.

Icon by the amazing Rithalie from the SSSS discord (rithalie-art.tumblr.com)

Ruler of Changi Airport