May 21, 2018, 06:02:39 AM

Author Topic: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society  (Read 7442 times)

Offline Eli_Freysson

Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #120 on: March 31, 2018, 07:41:54 PM »
Yes, that is a good one.  :)
I'll notify your next of kin... that you sucked!

Offline ScarletBea

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #121 on: March 31, 2018, 08:14:47 PM »
Creepy!!!!
At home in the Fantasy Faction forum!
"It's time we steered by the stars, not by the lights of each passing ship" (general O.N. Bradley)

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #122 on: April 02, 2018, 04:06:00 PM »
Thieves' Night Out

In their lair they meet each night,
Lit by golden candle light,
In mutters soft and whispers light,
They plan the theft of gold held tight.

Jerome the seasoned dodger leads,
Unfurls the maps and charts and reads,
The plans and steps that each will make,
To gleaming golden treasure take:
 
Pickpocket Lilly knows her part,
To scout the street and play the tart.

Grimly nods her henchman Ned,
Who thumps the watchman on the head.

Burly brothers Rob and Bren look on,
They throw the ropes the plan hangs on.

Ned hides the watchman in the dark,
And Lilly whistles like a lark.

The whistle Tina waits for proof,
That all is well then roof to roof,
She nimbly slides just like a spider,
Dressed in black so no one spies her.

Gable window Tina pries,
And steals within to take the prize,
With the key that Lilly plucked,
From the drunken banker’s clutch.

Tina like a wraith steals down,
The spiral stairs without a sound,
Creeping to the banker's desk,
That slides aside revealing chests,
Held within the space beneath,
Under iron chains like wreaths,
Held in place by clockwork lock.
She draws the key from out her sock.

As clever Tina turns the key,
The tower sings the chimes of three.

Jerome their leader parks hay cart,
Beneath the ropes and then the tart,
Lilly and her strongman Ned,
Slip in the back and duck their heads.

The brothers Rob and Bren slide down,
The second rope and reach the ground,
Calm and slow they mount the cart,
As Tina like an arrow darts,
Out from the rooftop rope in hand,
And swings across and lightly lands,
In the brothers' waiting arms,
Whose strength arrest her without harm.

Beneath the hay they all lay down,
While Gem's dumb grin then turned to frown,
Realizing he forgot about the treasure  ;D

« Last Edit: April 05, 2018, 04:41:58 AM by The Gem Cutter »
The Gem Cutter
"Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss." - Joseph Campbell

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #123 on: April 07, 2018, 08:42:08 AM »
Hope for Her

The shadow lies upon her now unlit by moon or star.
So dark the silent still-young night. The dawn is still so far.
What will come to pass will be. There’s naught to do or say.
No daring deed, no clever ruse will turn this night to day.

Today’s the day the cracks all joined and split my shield in two.
It lies upon the ground beside the banner I once flew.
Today I laid my armor down and left it in the sand,
And let my useless sword fall from a weak and trembling hand.
For her foe has no fear of swords; this foe I cannot slay.
All that I can do is wait for night to turn to day.

I'm fearful but not weaponless for in my hand remains,
Hope, the final talisman, to ward me from my banes:
Fear the slayer of men's hearts, Despair his bitter queen,
From dusk till dawn I’ll stand the watch through darkness in between.

Hope, my sole remaining light, glows softly in my hand,
A beacon for a nobler soul who crosses shadowed lands.

I’d take her place a thousand times to keep her from such woe,
And wander bitter battlefields to face her fearful foe,
But I can only watch and wait and keep my hope alight,
And hold it high and sing its praise and let my hope burn bright,
And light her way till distant day finds her battle won,
And washes all her fears away and bathes her in the sun.

Until that dawn I’ll fight my fears and keep my courage strong,
For if I was the one who walked a troubled path so long,
A finer fiercer fiery flame she’d mount upon the sky,
To guide me through the valley where the darkest shadows lie.

Hope, my sole remaining light, glows softly in my hand,
A beacon for a nobler soul who crosses shadowed lands.


« Last Edit: April 08, 2018, 11:15:28 PM by The Gem Cutter »
The Gem Cutter
"Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss." - Joseph Campbell

Offline Bradley Darewood

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #124 on: May 04, 2018, 11:44:31 AM »
I've been awol of late in the poetry thread, but I did want to say I started mixing lines of song into the first couple of pages of my new chapter 1 and it's really improved the scene I think.  The song is pretty sophomoric, but spliced as it is you don't quite notice it.

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #125 on: May 12, 2018, 11:08:03 PM »
I had a lovely poem bubble up while driving around town today, but I'll be damned if I can recall what it was even about now, let alone how it went.
The Gem Cutter
"Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss." - Joseph Campbell

Offline Skip

Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #126 on: May 13, 2018, 04:00:10 AM »
Another one from the archives.

My Recent Decade

When I was twenty, ten years was half my whole life.

When I was forty, they were just another phase.

When I reached sixty, ten years drifted by like errant leaves.

Now at eighty, I misplace whole decades at a time and
ten years pass
swift as a child's summer.

Offline Skip

Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #127 on: May 13, 2018, 04:28:35 AM »
And another. Should have posted it in November, I suppose.

Now the sun runs lupine,
Low to the southern hills.
He runs on the tops of skeleton trees,
Baying with the cold, the low red giant.
Now the long white settles quiet,
Filling the space between trees,
Sealing over long-tailed animals curled in burrows.

And deep in the high gouge of mountains,
Far up the flanks of a shrouded valley,
The old father lumbers to the cave edge.
He considers the snow with deep black eyes
And turns again to the dark corners.
He has seen a score such valleys.
He will sleep again
Until the time of melting.

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #128 on: May 13, 2018, 05:27:58 AM »
The hope that glows within my palm
Has seen me through the night,
No shadow on her falls today,
She stands within the light.

What would come to pass has come,
The dark has turned to day,
The warmth of dawn has come at last,
The long night’s gone away.

She traversed the trying tasks,
She crossed the pathless lands,
And in the warm and growing light,
We smile and hold hands.

Wounded but unbroken now,
She limps and heals and rests,
And though I stand the watch each night,
I know these times are blessed.

For now I know how high this ground,
How far I have to fall,
And how long lasts the starless night,
When deadly dangers call.

Now I know the icy chill
That steals the breath and saps the will
When those that I do hold most dear
Must cross the vale of death and fear.

Wounded but unbroken now,
She limps and heals and rests,
And though I stand the watch each night,
I know these times are blessed.
The Gem Cutter
"Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss." - Joseph Campbell

Offline Bradley Darewood

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #129 on: May 13, 2018, 08:25:40 AM »
This one got published:

i think i need a shower

The soft
    caress
makes my  mind explode
(that tantalizing touch)
a roaring ocean in my ears
swallowing my every thought in it's endless depths 
     there is only you
(goosebumps on my skin)
     i can feel your heartbeat
        throbbing
    with me
        throbbing
warm like the womb
i close my eyes into your kiss
an oblivion of blackness
a darkness so inviting
    i plunge
(your fingernails on my back)
    love and lust are one
drenched in a tsunami of ecstasy
my ears tremble from the warmth of your breath
    as you whisper…

    "Shit, I forgot...
          I'm on my period."

Offline Bradley Darewood

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #130 on: May 17, 2018, 05:59:50 AM »
So in my WIP I work songs into the narrative quite a bit.  I've re-written a new opening (for the 1,000th time, I can't tell you how many times I've changed the opening), interspersing a poem into the text.  It's not final yet, I'm still working it out, but it's below in spoiler tags.

Spoiler for Hiden:
Of the myriad children’s tales set in Castle Vael, Lade could think of none that featured a hero who pissed himself. The sludge-stained youth found something calming about fairytales. Imagining he was someone braver, someone richer, someone the world wants.

“Sir Leirus lifted high the severed head,” he whispered into the wind of the castle courtyard,“T'was all that remained of the dragon red…”

Lade blew a brown tangle of hair out of his eyes and tried to ignore the sting of his wrists, chafed raw from his manacles. His stained burlap rags reeked of fear and shit, a miasma collected from generations of prisoners who had donned the uniform before him. These were important details his childhood stories had failed to prepare him for.

“Atop his mount, marched the hero proud...”

Lade gazed past his fellow prisoners to the castle, its sun-kissed towers looming protectively over the Inner City and even the slums beyond that Lade called home. All his childhood bedtime stories had ended the same: knights in shining armor riding triumphantly through the castle’s gates-- typically on a white horse bearing a rescued princess and priceless treasures. Were their positions exchanged, Lade was certain Sir Leirus wouldn’t be afraid. To be fair, a legendary knight was likely much larger than the underfed sixteen-year-old. Chains rattled as Lade flexed his olive bicep, measuring it with his eyes. Definitely larger than last week.

“Through the gates of Vael and its adoring crowds...”

Unlike the squalid youth, the castle belonged in a fairytale. It’s rooftop terraces, winding battlements and proud turrets were both elegant and intimidating all at once. Whitestone walls encased the courtyard, its ivy-lined surfaces warmed by the golden rays of the sleeping sun. The gates themselves were more elaborate than Lade ever would have imagined. The chains that drew its portcullis glimmered as if rust itself had been vanquished by royal decree. The sheer size was impressive: a towering arch with a lion’s head carved at its peak, framed by azure banners marked with lion sigils woven in real gold. Enough gold to feed him and his mother for a month.
In a place like this, heroes never starved.

“No reward could befit a man so brave--”

But Lade was no hero, and this was no children’s tale.

“Slumswine,” a burly guard ordered, “get in the cage!”

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #131 on: May 19, 2018, 04:30:57 AM »
For @JMack , for nothing speeds recovery quite so well as bad poetry!

My Distant, Unknown Friend

Beneath the levity we share, our jokes and unseen smiles,
There lies a stronger sentiment that reaches cross the miles,
To a face I don’t know well, to a man I’ve never seen,
To a soul I’ve only known through words that passed between,

And yet I know this man so well - I’ve heard his words reflect,
A point of view I often share – but always can respect,
I’ve sensed a soul that burns as bright, as clearly as my own,
But we’ve never ever shared a meal or seen each other’s homes,

I’ve never clasped his hand and looked into his face and eyes,
I’ve never shared a drink with him or seen his hackles rise,
I’ve never ever seen the way that doubts will play across his face,
I’ve never seen the smile return once anger’s in its place.

I wouldn’t know his signature or how his sweaters feel,
I only know the words we shared in a world that is unreal,

And yet –

I know him from the echo of the things he’s shared and said,
I know him from the tug of thoughts he set within my head,
I know him from his love of those that he holds close and dear,
And through the words we’ve often shared I feel that we are near.

But he is he and I am I and we remain but strangers,
But when the shadow falls on him I feel the rush of dangers,
I feel the warmth of what I once held only for my brothers,
And know that I would do for him what I would not do for others,

And so I call this stranger friend while he endures his trials,
For I would rather err in this and call this bond worthwhile,
For noble men are hard to find and when they are we must
Reach across the distances and in their honor trust.
« Last Edit: May 19, 2018, 05:33:36 AM by The Gem Cutter »
The Gem Cutter
"Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss." - Joseph Campbell

Offline ScarletBea

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #132 on: May 19, 2018, 09:38:54 AM »
Oh that is lovely!!!
At home in the Fantasy Faction forum!
"It's time we steered by the stars, not by the lights of each passing ship" (general O.N. Bradley)

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Offline JMack

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #133 on: May 19, 2018, 11:21:13 AM »
Thank you, @The Gem Cutter.
What a warming poem to wake to today.
Change, when it comes, will step lightly before it kicks like thunder. (GRMatthews)
You are being naive if you think that any sweet and light theme cannot be strangled and force fed it's own flesh. (Nora)

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Re: Only Mostly Dead Poets Society
« Reply #134 on: May 19, 2018, 09:31:27 PM »
I am rather fond of that one. Glad it was warmly received.
The Gem Cutter
"Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss." - Joseph Campbell