Tag: creative writing

I like the way — an original poem

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I like the way your lashes curl.
They’re shy, they are,
but they’re hiding stars —
I like the way your smile unfurls.

Oh, how you think it curious
that one could write of lashes
or compare smiles to caches
(for yours hides treasure, you know).
But my words aren’t spurious,
though you don’t see that, do you?
my heart, it goes right through you
(I’d weep; nothing’s left to show).

Fathoming’s a feat of faith,
and faith’s a gift I demand from you.
Greed can grant me this one request —
my question naked: is it true?
Are you blind to understanding?
Or is my notion of it skewed?

How can you beat the one I love?
How can you lie and turn your face?
How can you hurt the one I love?
How can you treat her with disgrace?

How dare you beat the one I love.
How dare you try to dispose of
the lashes that curl
the ones I like
the pure-hearted girl
the smile I like
the untarnished pearl
the heart I like.

Love.

Because I like the way your lashes curl,
it’s selfish, I know, and I realize,
but I love the way your smile unfurls —
now if only you would open your eyes.

© 2015 Stellular Scribe

Solitary — an original poem

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"solitude" by ka-92
“solitude” by ka-92

Solitary, somewhere
stark
solitary, somewhere
dark
solitary, I
embark.

Embittered by the blind
who see
resentful of the safe
who flee
unforgiving to the rich
who plea
offended by
hypocrisy.

Purpose I will chase,
I swear
meaning I will trace,
I dare
the truth I will embrace,
but where?

Solitary, somewhere
stark
solitary, somewhere
dark
solitary, I
embark.

© 2015 Stellular Scribe

Mage — an original poem

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"MBX Vol 02 06 Karna Refuses" by Nisachar
“MBX Vol 02 06 Karna Refuses” by Nisachar

We who tread through endless night
and know the secrets of the earth,
we who bear the spirit light
and hold the threads of death and birth.

We who’ve touched the untold planes
and sang the songs of gods undone,
we who’ve mastered wind and rain
and forged great power from the sun.

We who conjure back from bleak
ancient hymns both blessed and tragic,
we who never cease to seek —
we who practice and preach magic.

© 2015 Stellular Scribe

My Arrow Is My Eye — an original poem

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by Kekai Kotaki
by Kekai Kotaki

My arrow is my eye,
it looses with a sigh,
I follow it and know where it
will land before it flies.

Crunching armor, broken blades batter,
steel’s a charmer, it doesn’t matter —
a soldier’s game is rough and unrefined;
but an archer’s blow is dealt with her mind.

Once in the knee,
twice in the chest,
go for the throat
and your chances are best —
pick off the weak,
put down the frail,
mock the muscle
aim through the mail!

My arrow is my eye,
it glares across the sky,
I follow it and see through it
for the arrow, true, is I.

© 2015 Stellular Scribe

these worlds we unravel — an original poem

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by Katie De Sousa
“Marian concept art” by Katie De Sousa

these worlds we unravel
between the sheets of our dreams
are mist on our skin
the peppermint air that we breathe

they taste like tomorrow
somewhere black cannot bleed
and I long to reach into
the worlds we unweave

almost touching infinity
but I can’t cut the strings
almost free from reality
but still the noose clings

these worlds we unravel
with fingers numb from the night
are words from our tale
from the story that we write

© 2015 Stellular Scribe

Somewhere — an original poem

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"On the Earth" by algenpfleger
“On the Earth” by algenpfleger

I’m going somewhere.
Somewhere.
Somewhere… Somewhere? Somewhere! Somewhere somewhere somewheresomewheresomewhere.
SOMEWHERE.
No matter how I say it, it doesn’t sound real.
Doesn’t seem real. Like it’s not even a place.
Maybe it isn’t. Maybe somewhere’s nowhere.
But I’m going there.

Some, as in some place —
some island, some ocean, some mountain, mountains? can some be more than one?
some mansion, some shanty, some tavern, some rathole, some chateau —
some, as in unsure,
uncertain,
undetermined,
in amount and manner and quality.
But some can be certain
so why is it not certain? why is it unspecified
when it’s meant to be specific?
Maybe it isn’t. Maybe somewhere’s undecided.
But I’m going there.

Where, as in what place?
it’s a certain place, sure, but what is the way?
it’s an unclear place, of course, so why is there a where?
what respect? what end? what source? whence?
where is not here, but it can be a place, but not a real place,
but obviously it’s somewhere —
where, as in when and why and from what?
in or at, can’t know for sure,
so what’s its goal? why is it elusive
when it’s meant to be determined?
Maybe it isn’t. Maybe somewhere’s shy.
But I’m going there.

Somewhere somewhere SOMEWHERE somewheresomewheresomewheresomewhere.

© 2015 Stellular Scribe

Just a poet’s note: I think I broke my brain trying to write this. Sorry in advance.
P.S. Happy New Year! 🙂

Old Friend — an original poem

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Crystal_Cave_2_by_firedudewraith
“Crystal Cave 2” by firedudewraith

old friend —
we walked this path before, remember?
back when the shadows that
stalked our footsteps
smiled,
and the darkness was not
swallowing,
but inviting?
do you remember
how the drip drip plunk
of water on rock stirred our stride,
how the skittering and swishing echoes
of creatures, be they mouse or mammoth-sized,
fed our hunger for
adventure?
or rather,
was it danger?
do you remember adrenaline
ripping through our limbs
as we tore ’round bends and boulders,
‘cross caverns and streams that seethed
with blind beasties
and swimming ghosts?
do you remember being
invincible,
young gods in our own
dark, unexplored domain —
yet subject to the vampires that
roosted above us and
at mercy of the
jagged, steep fall
below us?
old friend —
I remember combing through crystals
with you,
back when this path
was colored by youth.

© 2014 Stellular Scribe

The Maid of Ruby Rill

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A born a day of rags and fray, I smelled a hearth in th’ air —
what smells a hearth? why, dogs of course!
and be a dog, I dare.
Such smoke led south ‘round weeping wastes,
and up past yonder hill —
and dancing in the blaze so chaste
be the Maid of Ruby Rill!

She twirled her skirts and called my name, and long a gasp I sighed —
be she a nymph? a siren wraith?
for hooked I was inside.
Honeyed words she kissed my way,
and fierce I felt a thrill —
and what possessed me then to pray
for the Maid of Ruby Rill?

Sweet as sour-grass her song; warm as winter her grin —
but what of flames? did not she blaze?
how white still shone her skin!
Then deep within my core I yearned
and leapt to touch her still —
but crimson bit my hand and burned
my dear Maid of Ruby Rill.

Blackness bled into her eyes, serpentine her smile curled —
what form be this? a trick? a guise?
taunting, her tail unfurled.
Shocked my heart and swiped my breath,
I yelped a plea so shrill —
“Sweet lady, now be not my death!”
to the Maid of Ruby Rill.

A knee I took to hold her gaze, and hands I pressed in prayer —
“what sin is mine? is craving a crime?
speak now or I’ll despair!”
With twisted lips she smirked in ire,
and whispered words of ill —
“Damned are you to tend my fire
here in Ruby Rill!”

A born a day of rags and fray, I sold my heart to her —
what sells a heart? why, slaves of course!
and slave I was, assured.
Of years nothing but dust remains,
but her hearth dances still —
for I have fed and fueled the flames
of the Maid of Ruby Rill.

I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and holiday season! If you don’t celebrate Christmas, then hopefully it was a lovely time nonetheless. I haven’t posted anything for two whole weeks (gasp! I know!), but am finally getting back into the swing of things. Today I have for you a poem (actually, a song) that was written for my current fantasy series. I originally approached it with every intention of writing a silly, carefree tavern song — but it quickly developed a darker, more serious tone (as so many of my poems do).

Happy writing! 🙂