A poetic journey through my mind

Archive for March, 2012

A thieves prayer

This one is for the rp geeks out there.  I love playing rogues/thieves/rascals/scoundrels in roleplaying games, and once, I created a world (not the rules, just the world) including gods and goddesses and mythology for them.  Yay fun.  I wish I still had the notes and pages and maps, but unfortunately they were lost long ago.  All I have left is a poem I wrote for my main non-player character, a trickster-ish rogue named Mika and his patron god, Erevan god of thieves and fortune.  😉


Erevan, the silver-haired,
lay your hand upon my shoulder,
you remain my only comfort,
as the winds blow ever colder,
as my skillful hands grow older,
as the younger thieves grow bolder,
Erevan my hands are steady,
ever in thy name.


The first thing is Pain, and the second is Hunger,
The third is the feeling of Time rent asunder,
Things long since lost echo back in my head,
Cellophane faces, and things that were said.
“Don’t go…love you…careful…take care…”
Whispers and ghosts flicker by on the air.
I’d think myself mad, if thinking I choose,
But one cannot go mad with no mind left to lose.
The Hunger calls now, and its pull is extreme,
Their shrieks meld together into one endless scream.
The echoes of Time become louder yet,
The Pain makes it certain I never forget.
Engraved on each cell, the death that I bring,
I hear its sad laughter, and feel its glad sting.
It is ageless, this Hunger, and it must be fed,
It will never be sated till my spirit has fled.
But not even then will the world be set free,
For it moves even now, as the sap through a tree.
It wriggles and squirms inside of the brain,
Till the Pain and the Hunger begin once again.
And once more, a form shuffles into the night,
The Child is reborn, and his name is Blight!


masquerade, play pretend,
down the hall and back again,
bow and spin, whirl and sway,
as the lights turn night to day,
colors swirling all together,
shades of mountains and of heather,
pastel tints of sky and grass,
and jewel bright, like leaded glass.
music lilts and skirls like water,
round noble lad and burghers daughter,
whispering of sweet romance,
until they whirl as in a trance,
the silken threads of magic wind,
whispering into each mind,
holding them in bondage sweet,
while outside night and morning meet,
the sun shines bright through windowpane,
and still they dance on, lord and dame,
masquerade, play pretend,
down the hall and back again,
spinning webs of color bright,
until the day turns into night,
round and round and round about,
beneath the shadow of a doubt,
beneath the moon, beneath the hill,
the stolen ones are dancing still.

One out of Six (trigger warning: sad, murder)

One out of six, you will always be missed,
And the hole that you left never filled.
My brother, my friend, and yet at the end,
They stole you, and murdered, and killed.

To cause so much pain, for so paltry a gain,
How can anyone think that was right?
We’ll never know, with no camera to show,
And the culprits lost in the night.

Your room is a shrine, but also a tomb,
Preserving your spirit within,
Inviolate, closed, but everyone knows,
You’ll never more step out again.

Never more tease, or argue, or please,
Your sarcastic tongue laid to rest,
Along with your smile, and your eyes full of guile,
And your loving heart…that was the best.

We miss you, John. Wait for us, we’ll catch up soon!

Ghost Story

the wind that whistles through the eaves sings his lullaby,
the leaves that blow through the open door whisper hush now, don’t you cry,
upstairs in the attic a cradle rocks softly, lulling him to sleep,
and out on the hill the tombstone reads simply “Baby, lost to the deep”.

HMS Imp of the Perverse

My greatcoat flaps against my knees,
the wind is stiff so high above,
I pull my goggles down to see,
and give the wheel a healthy shove.

The ship responds, her ailerons
creaking in the cool night air,
while down below our target steams,
crew and pilot unaware.

My men are lined up at the rail,
their eyes alight with treasures call,
a scurvy row of pirates, they,
rogues and knaves and blackguards all.

Our grappling hooks go whistling down,
to land in clash and clang of steel,
the helmsman gives a warning call,
while down below, alarm bells peal.

The crew come swarming out like rats,
and clashing steel soon fills the air,
but they, poor souls, are overmatched,
and soon they huddle in despair.

We take the captain down below,
and with his key, open the hold,
a gleaming sight soon fills our eyes,
of new world spice and spanish gold.

Great leathern sacks my men fill up,
then monkey-like, swarm up the rope.
Last man up, I glance behind, and laugh
at the ships name…New Hope.

Harvest Dance

bright eyes shine and footsteps scurry,
voices whisper hurry, hurry,
come, the dance is starting soon,
underneath the harvest moon.

thru the shining city streets,
where the pulse of nightlife beats,
the call goes out, and those who hear,
are coming in from far and near.

the harvest ball will soon commence,
just behind the chainlink fence,
in the darkest part of town,
where the lady moon smiles down.

dancers gather, all together,
never mind the wind and weather,
bow and curtsey, reverance,
mingle with your favorite haunts,
twist and turn and do-si-do,
look at that big goblin go,
and though it will be over soon…
let’s dance beneath the autumn moon!


Her air of “oh-so-adult” vies
with the child behind her eyes,
cartoon knapsack, scuffed a little,
riding high on rounded middle,
this child who still needs mothers care,
will she have the love to spare,
for the child who grows within
this child inside a womans skin?

The old crab

a house, like the shell of some strange ocean dwelling creature,
never-changing, only thickening, intensifying with a perfume of years,
as salty as the thick mist that coats the sea at midnight.

A visitor approaches and the defenses go up
grasping and pinching she tucks her possessions
tightly to her, peering over the top with wild eyes
that see in all directions, guarding and protecting
what’s left of her life.



To make up for the last two posts, here’s a silly one that I wrote when I was living in an RV. in a state park.  ;).

whip tail, fluff tail, branch to roof to yard,
eye glow, night show, chitters in the dark,
claw hands, paw hands, clever fingers moving fast
trash cans, clash cans, isn’t this a lark?

mask face, task face, watching for a light,
light now, fright now, disappear into the night,
helter skelter scamper climb, clang of dropping can,
safely into silent hole, hidden from the man.