Poems, stories, and scraps — both new and old. [☆ = best stuff] [CLASSIC = written long ago]
Poems with a good start, that I should spend time on to complete. Likely not all will get completed.
I have several old poem intros. This one is nonsensical, but has a good structure.
My life is like a pancake
That’s darker on one side.
I’m filled with hungry animals
Who gobble from inside.
The fate of those who wait in vain –
Await the misty morning train,
Which never comes around again,
Deserve another guide.
Interesting poem intro. I’m going through some old computer files, and had to confirm (through multiple searches) that this wasn’t already posted on this site.
Among the dur trees, dark forboding –
Past the kleff of Ichy Lore,
In the shadow of Mur Mountain
Stood the village of Kaborr.
All were blind within the village.
None knew what it was to see.
Though unfinished, this poem tells a story of a boy coming of age. I’ve yet to decide whether he ends up accepting the role of royal heir, or whether his father ends up accepting that the boy has another path. It would be interesting if the boy grows up to be the titled magician who, late in life, goes back in time to help shape his own destiny…
Some of the phrasing is a little awkward. Unlike some of my other poems, I haven’t worked with it over the years to polish the wording — probably because the poem is unfinished.
I don’t plan for this poem to be part of my big Alice-like narrative.
Gossip spread throughout the land
By word of mouth the news had come
His services became demand
And as a fire loyally fanned
His fame had managed to expand
Encompassing the vast kingdom
He moved about the outlying farms
A few days here, a couple there
By potions, spells, and magic charms
He did his best for future harms
(He cured a couple gammied arms
And aided with a foaling mare)
When rumor finally reached the king
His advisor told him what to do
“Attempt to make an offering
The proper bit of persuading
And he might cure your mad bantling
Who, of your heir, he is in lieu”
The king knew this be wise indeed
His bastard son was all he had
And should there e’er arise the need
If no more heirs sprang from his seed
He would publicly announce the deed
If he had agreement from the lad
The trouble with the boy was that
He did not want to be a prince
Upon the finer things he spat
At royal balls, he was a brat
He did not relish growing fat
And at etiquette he’d wince
He had in mind to be a knight
To travel to a distant shore
Or even wield a mages light
Or practice with his magic sight
Or learning how to read and write
As over books he’d pore
Though unfinished, this is part of my big Alice-like narrative which I’ve mentioned that ties together my longer poems. Prior to my sabbatical, this is one of the few things that I’ve written within the past few years. I may need a new category to tag these items — ‘almost new’ or ‘classic plus’ doesn’t quite cut it.
The children from the town have come to play around the farm.
These kids are always trouble so I’m sounding the alarm.
Half the kids are astronauts, half the kids are clowns.
Half the kids are standing up and half are falling down.
The animals have gone to hide, the birds have flown away.
The donkey and the billie-goats are hiding in the hay.
Half the kids eat ham and cheese, half the kids eat cake.
Half the kids are on the shore and half are in the lake.