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I wrote this recently. I haven't posted something non-BIONICLE related here in a long time, so I hope you like it: It is silent except for the wind. It is dark except for the stars. I am alone except for my thoughts. I am not alone, then. I am in the midst of a great crowd. They all speak at once, trying to be louder than the rest. I hear the friends of my youth call me to play. I hear my most appreciated teachers instruct me further. I hear my family bid me come eat. But there are voices even louder: The lies of a brother yet to betray me. The rebuke of my disappointed father. The disgusted scoff of the landowner’s daughter. It is silent except for the wind. It is dark except for the stars. I am not alone because of my thoughts. As I cross over the dune, I see the tents. I hear the songs of the nomads preparing their meal. I rush onward, eager to be in a smaller crowd.
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Hello good Sir. You have stumbled apon my rhyming abode. I hope you don't get your words in a slur. For its time to get into your poetry mode. Rules 1.Follow all BZP Rules or else! 2.All post will be at least 4 lines 3.A form of rhyme must exist in your stanza it could be any format Examples: abab, aabb, abac, and any other. 4.Write about whatever you like. 5.Have fun.
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Freedom By Soran "I left the house, what once was mine, For better things in store.To reach my goals, to clear my mind, Of all of this and more." "I gazed upon the roads ahead, The long and winding trails. The twists that seem to hurt my head, But purge me of my fails." "The roads are clear; my mind is too,I look toward what's to come.I wait for what I hope is true,Of what I will become." "The roads now end; my home is near, A tear streaks down my face.Who knew that now, within this year,I'd live with my own grace." ""I'm now my own," I thought with glee,While fighting back a smile.My childish years, you will agree,Now didn't seem worthwhile." "I thought of what I have in store, An entertaining thought.The work and studies and much more,Will fill up what was naught." "I moved my things into my home,And pondered for awhile. My life right now, alone I roam,My own opted exile." "My life back then never felt free,I gave a somber sigh.This prison now set up by me,my life is a far cry." "Now tethered down by my false hopes,I was now only scared.To find that life's a slippery slope,And I was not prepared." -------------- Poem Description: So I got bored and wrote another poem. This one should be pretty self explanatory, but it's a poem based around a young adult moving on in the world. They're excited for the freedom they will have of not being tethered down by parents/guardians. They have all these hopes and dreams for their freedom but along the way they start to realize that they aren't really free. They are still tethered down, just not by parents/guardians any longer but by life itself. Because they decided to move on into the adult world they tethered down themselves because of their responsibilities now as an adult. It's a rather somber poem despite the rather upbeat feeling in the beginning. Comments and critiques are appreciated, ~Soran
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Kopaka the Toa was cold as they come, His silence and scowling were never quite done. Now hark to the tale of his thawing and glee When he happily solved all of life’s mystery! It happened one day he was stuck in the jungle For his Le-Koro guides their directions had bungled, When along came a Fikou, dangling from a tree, That descended and stopped to sit on his knee! It cried, “I’m just a Fikou, but I know a lot, I can teach you to tell if a fire is still hot! More importantly, I know a lot about masks So you’d better prepare to inhale many gasps! I can teach you to climb to the top of a tree And thenceforth to use your Akaku to see All the treasure and smiles and jolly good weather That occur when Matoran endeavor together. I can teach you to don your Mahiki with glee, Playing pranks like Matau does so mischievously, While Matoran are guessing at what isn’t real, The greatest of laughter and mirth will they feel. Or to wear a Kakama, the Great Mask of Speed To rush to the aid of all those who’re in need, Whether they need a rescue from thickets of axes Or simply forgot the promptness of their taxes. I know also Pakari, that gives one great strength, Including the strength to walk roads of great length, So that you may reach Kini-Nui’s great door Or at least help old Nuju to go to the store. And last there’s Matatu, of telekinesis, Quite useful for sending out products of Reeses Or simply to lift some stones out of the way So that helpless Matoran can have a nice day. These Kanohi, you see, very well then will serve As you seek to do service with gumption and verve, The Matoran will finally reside in peace And Vakama will finally pay off that lease! Mata Nui’s great donor Kopaka will be, Saving Toa from tax fraud and maybe Rahi, So happy, they may halt their Quest for the Masks As each cute McToran so cheerfully asks: ‘Who was it who saved our great island from doom When Ta-Koro was crowded with not enough room, Who saved us from crabs, Kane-Ra, and Muaka?’ ‘Never fear, young Matoran; it was noble Kopaka.’ ” But Kopaka was puzzled, he hadn’t a clue, “All these things and more I already do! What does any of this have to do with old me?” “It does not!” Fikou cried, and leapt back in his tree.
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The six Toa Mata were gathered together Beneath a great palm tree to hide from the weather. Tahu was all fiery, Kopaka was cold, And Pohatu was feeling a little bit old. But now their Turaga all started to speak And a couple stray birds also opened their beaks; Before long they realized they needed some quiet Lest the impatient Toa have reason to riot. So now old Vakama gave signals for silence, As Gali diffused Tahu’s urges for violence; The orange Turaga began to recount, “This is what’s on the island: Don’t forget or I’ll pounce! In Ta-Koro, citizens live off the lava: They farm it, they surf it, they fill it with Java; You see, the great Guardsmen must always rise early, But they find they cannot always drain their coffee. Great Jaller is Ta-Koro’s valiant captain, You’ll seldom observe that his Guardsmen are nappin’; Although if they are simply give them a shove And they’ll strive for the glory they were dreaming of. There’s also Kapura, who moves very slow, Though he’ll always notice Makuta the Foe; Feel free to ignore his dire warnings of dread And take note of the fact that his body’s all red. And then there’s Takua, whom nobody likes; He thought it was funny to flood all our dikes! We banished him so he could think on his deeds, And maybe fulfill his emotional needs. Matau leads Le-Koro, which sits in the trees; The people there try not to anger the bees. They beat upon drums and they play upon flutes, And rumors report that they used to ride chutes. Kongu fights off Rahi while riding a bird; He also speaks Treespeak, haven’t you heard? His best friend Tamaru is clumsy but quick: Infected Kanohi won’t soon make him sick! Dark Onu-Koro’s the one underground, They founded it ‘cause protodermis they found; Turaga Whenua has problems galore, So if you find lightstones, he might need some more! Onepu races and marshals the Ussals, His best friend Taipu has a lot of arm muscles; Some people gossip that Taipu is dumb, But purple Matoran stick out like sore thumbs. Nuparu is Onu-Koro’s inventor, He makes sure equipment won’t soon lose its splendor; He puts up with Whenua’s pitiful pay – Who knows? He might make something useful some day! Ko-Koro is cold because it’s on a mountain, Before it was frozen, they once had a fountain; If you try to talk they might give you dark looks ‘Cause they’d rather be all alone reading their books. Their Turaga is Nuju, whom none understand, It’s said he speaks only by moving his hands; Of all the Turaga, he is the most wise, Although you can’t tell by his relative size. Matoro’s the trapper who hunts for Muaka – That is, when he’s not bumping into Kopaka; He’s the only one who knows what old Nuju says, And Jaller believes he eats snow-flavored Pez. Kopeke the carver is not very nice, But sometimes he’ll carve people things out of ice; His Komau is currently colored sand-blue, But Nuju says later he’ll get something new. Turaga Onewa, Turaga of Stone Leads Po-Koro, carvers and sports players’ home; Their Toa Pohatu is steady but slow, Except when he wears his Kakama, you know. Hewkii is Po-Koro’s cool Koli champ, He usually runs their Sand Sports Summer Camp; When he writes to Macku, he won’t leave out a stamp But he never prefers to get soggy or damp. Hafu the carver is overly proud, And many complain that his carving’s too loud; Some say that Hafu is not very nice But he’ll always create something for the right price! And last there’s Ga-Koro, where they’re only girls, And sometimes, it’s said, they go diving for pearls; Nokama instructs them, ‘Find harakeke plants!’ – That is, when she’s not kicking me in the pants! Macku’s a swimmer, and expert in boats; If you throw her in water, she probably floats! She oft visits Hewkii, whom she thinks is cute, No matter how long or unsafe is the route. About Kotu, there’s not much I can say, She probably swims or sews rigging all day; Nokama informs me that she’s her left hand, – That’s strange, because often she lies on the sand. Ga-Koro’s other assistant is Hahli, She’s shy, but she’s also sporadically jolly; On my captain Jaller, she must have a crush: She gave him some ice, but it turned into slush. So those are the villages, totaling six – Take note: Most of them are made out of mud bricks; And so, as you try to accomplish your quest, You’ll need to defend them; you must do your best!” The island was alright, the Toa agreed; Tahu observed that their fear had no need. “If that’s all there is, I think we’ll be all set!” “You fiery fool, I’ve not done Rahi yet! First, Nui-Rama are beasts of the air, While jumping through jungle, you’ll have to beware; It’s said they’re hard-hearted and horrible, too, Even though their Kanohi are transparent blue. Everyone fears the fierce Nui-Jaga, Much greater in size than your average Turaga! In any case, you must be ready to bring An antidote to stop the scorpion’s sting. The Tarakava are the beasts of the sea; At the sight of them, all the Ga-Matoran flee! They wear a Kanohi on top of their heads, And travel around using out-of-place treads. Muaka and Kane-Ra are not the same, Although both will put you in comparable pain; Muaka are found in Ko-Koro’s cold drifts, So if you sleep there, try to do it in shifts! The Manas are Mata Nui’s mighty crabs, They’re bred in Makuta’s old underground labs; These crabs will be next-to-last foes on your quest, So once you beat them, you can breeze through the rest!” “Yippee!” cried the Toa, “That’s finally done! This island is starting to seem like great fun!” “Not yet,” sighed Vakama, “and I’ll tell you why: Last but not least, you must beat the bad guy! Makuta has hidden himself underground, There he takes thought and plots without a sound; From there he commands all the wild Rahi beasts, And sometimes on recycled Kanohi feasts. Although you will have collected all your masks, Still accept assistance from any who ask; A Chronicler should pass with you through the door, To write it up should you end up on the floor. Beware, the Makuta can take any form, But I’m told that a musky Matoran’s the norm; So up from the floor this Matoran may rise, Underestimate not, in spite of its small size!” But Vakama paused, and Lewa inquired: “It seems against us all the odds have conspired! One thing there is we would all like to know: Just how can we beat this Makuta the Foe?” Now old Turaga Nokama spoke up, As a thirsty Whenua refilled his clay cup, “To his own pride the Makuta is tethered: To beat him, the six Toa must work together!” To hear this news, most of the Toa were glad, Although cold Kopaka was visibly mad; But Tahu asked, “What’s after Makuta’s cloud?” “Silent!” cried Matau, “Spoilers aren’t allowed!”
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Elegy of the Fallen By: Soran We’ve had it rough but it isn’t so bad, Just think of the fun and adventures we’ve had. Just think of the time we visited the jungle, Or of snowy plains or even that tunnel. I remember it clearly, when the fear first set. The shadows arrived, and I was met with a bet. A life or a mask was all it desired, But who’s to say that’s all it conspired. When the shadows arrived to claim its reward, It was met with our strength, our bond restored. But as darkness crept in, I was greeted with fear, You noticed my pause and took in the spear. As your body laid limp, my destiny was clear, I put on the mask and was released from the fear, I arose with the power and strength the mask gave, I sought vengeance for myself and the friend I couldn’t save. As the fear crept away I journeyed to the core, To end all the fear and end this great war. With light as my guide I fought to the end, Fighting to avenge the fallen… A Friend. ------------ Backstory: The story this poem is referencing is the events of Mask of Light incase it wasn't clear, specifically about the relationship between Takua and Jaller in overcoming fear, as well as Jaller's sacrifice (hence the term, "Elegy".) It was written from the perspective of Takua/Takanuva. I'll be honest that the real reason for writing the poem was because I like the word "Elegy" and felt the need to plug it in something and since I've been reading a lot of poems recently I felt inspired to try my take on them. I was considering drawing an illustration for it but I didn't feel like making one right now. If I did I'd probably make a short comic featuring the events in the poem. Overall I'd say I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out. Only stanzas I'm not too keen on is paragraph 4, stanzas 1 and 2. I feel like using "fear" as a rhyming word more than once wasn't too great, but oh well. I also noticed that I made an accidental reference to Karda-Nui in the last couple stanzas which I thought was pretty cool. Comments and critique are welcome. I'd like to know people's thoughts and where I could possibly improve. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the poem. ~Soran
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Just thought to drop this here. It's a poem of sorts I came up with the other day, and wanted to share it. I'm not revealing its title because I'd like to see if someone can actually understand what it's all about, without the title (which is quite plain). Storm of black and gold Blind hate, a gaze to behold Nothing escapes its furious sight Nothing stops its dreadful flight All fear its poisonous might All flee the swarm, no use to fight Heart of violence, encased in perfect shape Dagger of scorn, hidden in beauty’s cape There you go.
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Note: "exit number 117" is meant to be read as "exit number one seventeen." Exit Number 117 Fortnightly Flash Fiction #5: Branching Out In this wild twisting chasing highway we like to call life I suppose the first time I found myself facing an impossible choice Was the midnight I came to exit number 117 And it wasn't the number that made it particularly special The sign was old and worn and the 7 was sort of scratched As though a bird had flown into it or something And the road was cracked and faded and the puddles of Asphalt I saw in my headlights were gray and older than my parents I slowed down because I was the only one on the road It's an interesting moment when you're the only one on the road Because nobody else can make your choices for you You can walk on glass if you like, or walk by The sky was full of stars and a bright moon and planets and galaxies But I didn't bother looking at them because I was busy Wondering which way was right for me You see, my parents always taught me to follow my dreams And I was sure that my dreams lay farther down the highway Maybe exit number 200, or number 179, or the place where the asphalt ends But exit number 117 had a strange charm all the same The dusty road begged to be travelled And the darkness beyond the highway begged to be explored And how is an 18-year-old supposed to know exactly which exit to take anyway? I guessed that this wasn't my road But who knew, and did it matter? So I put it off for another day, put the engine in gear, and my tires squeaked as I Pulled away from exit number 117 And set my tired eyes back to the highway The wide road was easier to drive And easier than thinking about other places I could go More comfortable than thinking about branching out, diversifying, changing Because, after all, the easiest road to travel Is the one I've been driving all my life And it's simpler to keep exit number 117 in my rearview mirror than to keep it in front of me But every now and then, I'll feel a twinge of regret The bite of nostalgia as I look back and think for a moment I see that exit I passed A faint glimmer on the horizon It's not there of course: I passed it long ago And I've never found the time to go back Who knows if it would even be there by the time I got around to it Now I'm farther along the highway and it's been a fun ride But I'll always wonder what lay beyond exit number 117 I guess that's how it works: you choose an exit, or you don't
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Looking at those eyes Staring back at me I couldn't help thinking We were meant to be You were like an angel Sent from above One I could marry One I used to love Now all that's left Is my memories Rising high in the sky Higher than the trees Without you To take me by the hand
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___________________________________________Amidst the silence and the dust of aftermath,Where thousands strong once stood and laughedInto the face of death, and forged their pathBeneath the thunder's rolling crash,Naught remains anymore, no, naught but blood and ash.None knew, nor know what it would take to win the dayWoe, for the Legion has passed through this way.Platoons in solid ranks egress from barren plain,On high begins a solemn rainAnother land now fallen into pain,By tax of war, willpower drainedThe armies' march goes on to lands alive again;In dreary quiet town, a new herald proclaims-Woe, for the Legion shall pass through this way.What is mercy? The Legion knows nothing of thisTo them the conquest brings all bliss.Though now they realize something is amissTheir normal easy slaughter heldWhere a wavering, valiant, barely-risen line does stayWoe, for the Legion forges on this way. With shield and halberd raised against the argent skyRemainders stand against the tidesOf shattered rust and metal, blood and strife And fear, the fear through blackest night.Where once a humble village made its claim to life,The last three hold before the ever-growing fray-Woe, for the Legion won't relent this day.And blades awhirl under the silver thunderheadsTrio of heroes, all but deadStand back to back to back, hold off the dreadOf armies fighting as unfed;Spray of blood upon the wind, the dust beneath stained red.The three call now call upon their might and sayNo, for the Legion will not win this day.Though from a dark descent this scourge must draw its soulsNo doubt, for nothing else could holdIn hearts, such moral shadow sevenfold.But this, their match, at last, perhaps-This, the three, with brilliant auras to beholdSlash left, swing right, like arcs of light with echoed bladesRise, for the Legion may yet fall today.The smoke arisen off the newly fallen foeA shattered cloud from ash and boneSettles down to the empty field of stone.And from the silenced plain no life yet showsEverything within is held in death's blank white glow.Until the three arise, to outlast it all:Stand; for the Legion's met its final fall.And as triumphant saviors leave their joyous brandWith bright flags planted on the land,Though certain that by their own heavy handsThe Legion was reduced to sand-A new Legion slowly born from this simple bandOnce best of men, their virtue now they cannot proveRun: for the Next Legion is on the move. ___________________________________________Added two more stanzas- three and eight.
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Eldritch AbominationYou feelThat inexplicable, utterly chilling senseThat you are being watched.Up and down your spineIn wavesThe icy electricity goes shudderingAnd you tense, frightenedReady to runBut there’s no warningNone at all.From the darkness behind youA hiss.The fear grips you again.You feelYour shoulders being torn backwardYour body being lifted off the ground like a rag doll—It got you.The creature is revealedIn the brief instant it steps into the lightThe sight is horrible;The grotesque features unveiled.You scream in unadulterated fearThe knife-sized teeth advanceReady to tear your body apart.The dream is realBut it’s too late.With another hiss,The creature darts its bloody mawAwful jaws agapeDown toward you.You cry out againIn horrorIn painIn terrible agony.Its tentacles consume youAnd it all ends. ~ :: ~
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"Ahkmou"A great many years ago,A great many ages.The Great Spirit's islecradled his nation.The brave Toa Metruwho vanquished Makutahad built this new refugethis tree-riddled haven.But the black brother's evil,is never suppressed.Though his dark arts were stayedone stone-carver was lost.The monster's dank cavern,was where he fell aside.And the fear-peddler found himand sold him his wares."The turaga have left you.Here with the sea-beasts."The false savior lied,"But I give you my help.""Follow my cause,give word of my enemyAnd I avenge youof the vile deserters."And on that day,the gullible villager,the foolish stone-carversold his life to the monster.For centuries onward,he lived in the village,his pact with the devilall but forgotten.The wicked beast-masterstayed hidden for years.His messenger cameto peddle his fear.The Great Spirit's symbol,he wore on his face,scarred by the workof the black brother's hand.His armor was rustedlike his mask it was worn.Blighted his spirit, sincethe same marks it bore.The fear-peddler's prophetcame to restring his puppet.And remind him his bargainwas never complete.So Ahkmou cameto the present day,knowing the dark heraldwas never away.He sold his trinkets, knickknacks, and toyswhile informing the courierof the elder's deeds.But his spirit was light.The villain's visits were short,His mind seldom thought ofthe dark angel's bargain.He met a friendin the village of water,A right cheerful lady, of his own occupation.He first met the ladywhen he left his dark masterin the land now protectedby the sea-queen, named Gali.The Turaga greeted him,his alleged betrayer,and brought him to the village,to rest and revive."To Po-Koro" she said,was where he should go.To the village of Pohatu,the great stone-titan's realm.But a boat he would need,and a boat they had not.And the great whale-road's surfacewas the only way out.Though at first he was spiteful,for what the Turaga once did,His stone heart soon softened,and he doubted the villain.The sea-people were kind,and bore no ill will.So he followed their plan,and accepted their aid.To find the supplies,to build the wave-skimmer,he entered the shopof the sea-people's vendor.The lady was joy-filledwhen he entered her storefor stone-carvers hardlytraveled this far."Okoth's my name"her smile shone brightand waved towards her sales-stockand mentioned their price.He asked her questionsconcerning her store.Enjoying her voiceand the skills of the trade.For the next week coming,he returned every dayMore for her smilethan for boat-parts he came.They finished the boat,and he sailed to the desert,though for centuries later,he would make return visits.But for each time he saw Okoth,the herald came twice.For each moment of pleasurehe was recompensed evil.When the Toa first came,the great titans of legend,The messenger came withhis most dark proposition."The light-bringers come.Your debt still unpaid,but the black brother requestsone last payment today."Ahkmou stood tall,this was the dayto be free for all timefrom the fear-peddler's pact.His poorly made bargain,would now lay to rest,he would forgive the Turaga,and abhor the beast-master."The black brother's darknessmust extinguish the light.You must peddle his poisonto be free from his chains."No, he could not!Ahkmou fretted within.The mage-monster's poisonwas too great a sin.But if there was a curesome health-giving herb,Perhaps he could save hisfriends and his kind.Then he could livepure, whole, and good,but still, the price seemedtoo treach'rous for him.But If he rejected the offer,he would still be a slave.He could not live full honest,to his people and friends."Will they survive?"He asked he dark prophet."Of course," he replied"As Makuta does wish it.""How will I do it?"He asked of the mage."With kohlii balls tainted within by the plague."Ahkmou agreed,justifying his crimefor his redemption was hungin the balance this time.He crafted a sphere thatwas light, tough, and quick,that his sport-loving brotherswould find best for the game.He made many othersand gathered them plenty,to store in the caveof a dark monster's living.The scorpion's poisoninfected the spheres,which Ahkmou then soldbetraying his brothers.The stone-village fell sickthe greatest bedriddenby the dark villain's poisonand by Ahkmou's dark bargain.He left for a timein he peak of the plague,to sooth his consciencewith a visit to Okoth.He arrived at the village,to find the shop closed.He stopped a boat-builderto ask what 'twas the cause."She fell ill this past week,after a game of Kohlii,with your new Comet ballsthat she bought from a traveler."Ahkmou rushed to the shop,and broke open the door.And smote his chestfor the evil he caused.He leaned down to his friendand confessed in her earthe dark plague he had causedfor the black brother's pact.She wimpered, unspeaking,and he rushed from the hut,entering the cavewhere his bargain was struck."Come out, come out!Heal me my friends!Curse me for my part,but spare all of them."The cavern was silent,'til a hollow sound creakedthe black brother emergedand his darkness creeped.But wait! This was the herald,not the master he sought."Where's the dark master?"Ahkmou did shout.But a shudder did follow,as he heard him speakwith the voice of the villain,dark, grating, and deep."There is high costto low living." the dark devil said."I peddled my fear, andyou purchased my wares.""You are less than a maggot," the black brother laughed."One way or another,my plan would stand fast."Ahkmou softly stammered,but all words would be naught.The crime was his own,but his friends paid the cost."The plot's been uncovered."The black brother warned."Now you are an exile,from all those concerned."The demon then vanished,leaving Ahkmou alone,the poor, fearful fool,again lost, all his own.
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*Just something I thought of and wrote quickly. All comments considered and appreciated. Thank you! Courage and braveryAre seen and lived.No one knows when they’ll be called uponIn this dangerous and beautiful worldTil that moment with your strength is necessaryAnd then yourLife will begin anew.Kicking adrenaline to the surfaceThe worldOnce known will be changed.You are needed.Only you can do what must be done.Using your newfound powerAn action will occurTaking fear away with just one lookSince a miracle has happened Creating a new opportunityHaving a new pathOpened up for youOn which the future remains brightLeaving the past but remembering the oldJust knowingOnce you leave hereHappiness has given you aNew life to protect and love.
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From the mountains high To the ocean’s floor Or higher in the atmosphere Lives creatures we all adore Some slime or slither Some walk or crawl Some swing or hang From branches in forests so tall Still they all live together Even though some are dangerous And some are less than cute But can be carnivorous Some are near extinction They are endangered They just want a chance to live on They just need to be heard.
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When the lightning strikes and the thunders roar I am the waves that rise above the storm I am a leaf on the wind, watch how I soar I am the fire within, ready to swarm I am the earth, I am body, I am Life. When the earth swallows and covers you I am the life that devours I am that which turned you blue I am one who’s beside you in your final hours I am darkness, I am soul, I am Death. When the unthinkable happens or a memory is lost I am that unexplained moment of pure bliss I am a path that cannot be crossed I am when something is amiss I am hidden, I am confusion, I am Undefined.
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Winter springs aliveAt the end of the yearNever giving inTo the hopes of some people Thus creating a fear On the hopes they had Believing that accidents may occur Every time they braved the outside world For the ice that lay beneath the snowy Roads give chances of sliding on Ice and twisting around Every time they press on the break leading them Near the shoulder or edge of the road calling Death to take Someone who couldn’t keep control
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Sunlight faded On wings of darkness and new light Ringing in the New YearRaising the moon in the midnight skyYou raise a glass for thisJoyous occasionOn the death of a year gone byHanging onto thoseNew resolutions andHearing the excitementOnly you’ll just beOffering themYour smile andEars to theirRaining enthusiasm and celebratory applause
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no NO NONONO YOU ARE NOT A POEMER WHY ARE YOU POEMING YOU ARE BAD WITH WORDS The blinding gleam of a world revealed A nation fallen, a people healed Canisters open, revealing their worth Tired feet breaking the surf A band of heroes together once more The ache of the journey, bloody and sore A ring of stones, powers combined To sacrifice duty for destiny's time The elders stand in the light of the isle The mountains and trees stretching for miles Matoran step out of their pods, unaware of the danger befallen a city down there Memories gone, a life come anew Village-huts from the ground; black, green and blue Circuits forsaken for the peace of the earth Ignorance, bliss, as evidenced by their mirth Yes, a life comes anew as the old city falls But a shadow murmurs in underground halls Peace cannot stand in the force of a gale The Makuta will rise to destroy and to kill
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A familiar face under new maskLingering questions not to be askedThe friend I once had, now a legend of oldButterfly-catcher, in statue of goldOnce you were small, before this grand endNow I pause in my tracks to respect my old friendYour bright orange eyes and strong heartlight beatwere wasted on power, the allure of the heatWhen treetops swayed in the glittering sunwhen the deadliest urge was to learn how to runover dunes of shifting, rolling sandand to swim underwater, no pretense so grandas to claim ourselves the saviours of broken earthto give ourselves higher meaning or worthWe never asked for a destiny greator to wrestle with meanings of love and of hateWe simply laughed, and enjoyed our short livesfrom the lily-pads deep to the tunnels of hivesBut then the day came, unexpected and cruelto steal you away and embark on a duelagainst evil powers in fortresses darkTo stop, not kill, the great Toa's markThey gave you the stone as I looked on in horrorA light flashed, you screamed, and were simply no moreWhere once my friend stood on the engraved stonesstood a Toa I knew who must leave us, aloneHis armour was grand, polished and cleanHis eyes were dark, unfamiliar and meanand I knew that then, in the beat of a heartour peaceful lives would be torn apartYour capsule was sent off in fanfare and tearsand the silence was filled with the whirring of gearsAs the crowds left the docks and I stayed behindwatching the sky with one question in mind:Would anyone know you, once you arrivedas my friend who caught insects in derelict hives?Maybe you'd save them, train in your powersbut they'd never see you with hands full of flowersAs the days grew to years, my memories dulledand feelings of apathy, absence were culledOur lives went on as the bitter ache subsidedand no tales reached our ears of nations divideduntil the day your scarred canister cameinscribed upon it, a memory-soaked nameMy fingers brushed steel and the lid fell awayThe inside was cold, smooth and dark greyInside it, a body, decorated and grandA ceremony was held in far-distant landfor their great hero, defender of allMy friend, the Toa, had learned how to fallAs his mask is removed and heart laid to restothers will tell me this was for the bestHis death is an honour, they say, sad, with a smilebut the rocks are laid down on that unfeeling pileAnd as I gaze at that unfamiliar maskI can only think of one question to ask:does anyone know him, my friend of oldas anything more than a hero in gold?
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Life of a FatherI stare soothing at the big blue eyes,Looking up at me with innocence—Cerulean skies observing the lines and creases of my face. He wants to cry, upset at being near all the loud people—People clanging their glasses together in toasts to the bride and groom,People slapping each other’s backs in embraces,All oblivious to the sensitive ears of Little Liam—But he sees my face,Knows he is safe in my arms,And a smile spreads.His little face lights up, and I place a kiss on his head.I know he wants to sleep, so I rock him back and forth in my arms.Swinging and turning gently as his eyes slowly blink closed.I smile—this is the life a father.There is nothing greater. ~ :: ~Another poem written for my Creative Writing class. It was supposed to use some sound, and it could only be between 12-16 lines. I don't like the writing of this one as much as my Staring Oceans poem, but considering this one has babies, it kinda evens out. I was originally going to write about a church (I still will, sometime, probably), but after I held my cousin's baby last weekend this was all I could think about, haha. Enjoy! Comments and constructive criticisms are much appreciated.
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Staring OceansOceans.They stare at youThrough the wooden edges of the frame.A snowy plane lines his cheeks, bushy and misshapenLike a wild plant, growing this way and that,Thinning here and there like his life.Soon it will all be gone.So will he.But he is still there for now, and he smiles at you,His bright blue eyes sparkling,His niveous beard a tangled mess.He looks at you in such a happy way—But such a strange way.He seems to be calling you,Inviting you.Perhaps he wishes to tell you a story.The twinkle in his eyes gives it away.Yes, this man has a story,A story he wants you to hear.Every day you see him come to this place.He brings with him a fishing line and a flag.An American flag, displaying it proudly as he goes.You see him tie the flag to the pier,And you watch it wave in the wind for a moment or two.The man watches with you, and smiles again—Pride.Pride for his country.He tells you how he had served in the military,Proudly bearing his uniform for four long years.Through trial and tribulation, he made it through.He made it home, when so many of his friends didn’t.You want to rush up and give him a huge hug—To tell him it’s okay.But you don’t.You realize he is hurting,You see it in those ocean-eyes of his, staring kindly at you.Yet, his smile remains. He is poor, coming here every day for his nightly meal of fish.Yet he does not complain. He simply smiles at you with his wrinkly face, and you smile back.And you both silently watch the vast ocean spread out before you.~ :: ~Now, there is a bit of explanation I need to post here. Usually I am against doing that (everything should be explained inside the story, not outside), but this was written for my Creative Writing class, and therefore had guidelines I needed to follow. The prompt was, paraphrased: "write a poem about a photograph. Start by describing the photograph, then tell a story about the person you described. Poem can only be 1 page long, and it cannot rhyme." So, because of that, I'm not completely satisfied with the ending, as I literally used every line I could (the title I even had to place in a header, because the poem was so long) and had to squish things together. But still, overall I am pretty happy with this. I haven't written a poem in literally years, so I'll definitely have to more, now, as I really enjoyed this. All comments/constructive criticisms are welcome! Enjoy!
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{Never Sleep Without A Bat} If you’ve ever had the feeling That you have someone watching you, This might send your mind reeling, But I’ll inform you that you do. 1:11 is the time When you first get the vibes. The paranoia feels like slime Clinging to your insides. Look at the clock, it’s 2:22. Now you’re sure a stalker’s near. Glance around you: Nothing’s new, But you can’t seem to shake your fear. Static on the radio Is your next indication That, somewhere, gazing down below, One’s observing your location. At 3:33, you see a tall, thin man. You shudder--No. It can’t be real! In the blink of an eye, in the wave of a hand... He’s gone. You tremble, but think, “What’s the deal?” When “4:44” barrages your eyes, You’re sure that the mystery man will return. You need to be armed, you finally decide, And there is but one place you can turn. You open the door to your musty old shed. You step in with footsteps as light as a cat’s In search of a weapon... Oh, look! There’s a thread, Tied to the end of a baseball bat! Your fingers close around the weapon Before you decide to check the time. 5:55?!? You failed to pay attention To how long you stayed in your own terror’s realm. It’s all right when night falls: There are no number strings. Yet into bed you quickly crawl, Clutching a bat and your dreams. At 1:11 AM, you awake. You’re not quite sure what roused you. You sit up, raise the bat to make An impression to scare those around you. Outside your room, there is creaking. It could be a rat near the walls, But your human mind is there, thinking, “Is that slender man roaming my halls?” You hear your door squeak open, And quickly, your blood runs chill. You sit there, frozen, hoping That you’ll unthaw due to some thrill. A seed of terror is planted In your heart, your mind, your soul While total access is granted To your nightmare. Your body grows cold. You see something in the doorway. It’s tall, about seven-foot-six. This figure--you recognize it right away... Or is it your eyes playing tricks? Before your mind can tell what it’s seeing, The stranger approaches your bed. Fear shoots through all parts of your being: This man has no face, just a head. Your grip on the bat gets tighter As tentacles slowly extend From the man’s back. Your skin becomes lighter When you think, “This could be the end.” Adrenalin’s pumped through your bloodstream. A plan is needed right now, So before either of you see it coming, You smack the bat on the man’s brow. The terrible moan that echoes Off of the caverns of your brain Lets you know that you should not let go Of this bat, for the monster feels pain. Again and again you beat him, And again and again he screams. It appears as though he has been beaten, Because now, he slowly retreats. You see the tentacles vanish. You see the man back out the door After telepathically scowling, “Me, banished? You’re mad! I’ll be back in the morn...” You realize your hands are quaking. You set the bat to the side. The battle you had left you shaken, Externally and on the inside. As you finally start to feel drowsy, You know that you won’t take a chance. You hug your arms around your knees, Gripping the bat like a lance. The moral of this story, dear, Is one that you can’t lack In case Slenderman visits. Just be clear: Never sleep without a bat! ~⊗~Just a little something I whipped up a while ago. I decided to post this after learning that Sumiki was masquerading as Slender Man. Unfortunately, the fad's over, but that's totally fine by me. Note: I do not own Slenderman or the Operator symbol.
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This doesn't really fit anywhere, so I might as well put it here...It's simple. If you've written any haiku about BZP or BIONICLE, post it here.For those of you who are poetically challenged, a haiku is a very short poem that follows a syllable pattern of 5 syllables in the first line, 7 syllables in the second, and 5 syllables in the third line. So, for example: BIONICLES are Fun to play with, not to eat Just like Play-Doh is. And there you have it.Happy haiku!--CV
