Saturday, January 24, 2009

Week 3

As is often the case with me, when I am reading a book I find great inspiration in the words written. At the moment I am currently enjoying Empress by Karen Miller which tells the story of Hekat, a girl sold to slavery who has more to give in her life than that of a slave. This poem is written in regards to her first feat of might in the light of her god.


"Who are you? What are you?" you ask with fear in your eyes,
As you kneel before her, your she-brat demise,
A killer of chicken, a slayer of sheep,
Who would have thought that she could not be so weak.

Godspeaker, Godchosen, knife-dancer with snake-blade,
Warrior, Warlord breeder, watch as legends are made,
She dances with skill, with precision, with grace,
Her dances are beautiful despite the scars upon her face.

She dances the field, through life, with skill,
Blood-rage upon her, the god will have his fill,
Each slash she deals, each piercing stab,
A tribute to the god for his will to grab.

So watch as she dances the field and with scorpion's strike,
Steals your godspark, your essence, your life,
Before her Warlord kneeling below,
She shows him the future, one you'll never know.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Week 2

Little Red Sneakers

When I was young, I'd run through the park,
All leaping and laughing and games on a lark,
And all through the time on my little boy feet,
My little red sneakers pounded beats on the street.

My pride and joy, the sneakers were king,
And among all my friends, they were indeed supreme,
From Nancy's sleek slippers to Dylan's blue boots,
My sneakers won the pots with aces in all suits.

I wore them both out with fun on all days,
In the sun or jumping in puddles to play,
In forts and castles and fields and trees,
With my sneakers I ran and flew like the breeze.

But those days are done and gone and past,
And I look back now and sigh at time lost so fast,
At games gone missing, and stories untold,
And I mourn the loss of my sneakers of old.

But in the end, I know that time has come,
Their days long over of traveling, to and from,
And today a new day dawns- something new to smile at,
For today my son gets his own red sneakers.
His turn.
How's that?

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Week 1

Unappreciated Beauty

The crab that crawls across the sandy beach,
Does live its days in search among the sands,
It skits and slides within the long cove's reach,
But knows not of the view on which it stands.

Days and weeks the lost soul toils and strains,
And acting out his forever long scene,
To search for life's many scattered remains,
While waves of blue crash on, as yet unseen.

Tis sad, this life- a battle to survive,
Upon the sands so far below bright skies,
And in his war of death and life he thrives,
The joy of life yet hid before his eyes.

But as bright day turns to darkend twilight,
The crab looks up to view the priceless sight.

Friday, January 2, 2009

52 Weeks

A few friends of mine decided to begin a journey over the course of fifty-two weeks. It is a journey of the mind and soul as they pour out their souls in fifty-two short stories and pieces of art.

For myself, I decided that this would be a fantastic idea and something that I'd love to pursue myself. I miss writing, honestly, and I rarely get the opportunity to do more than simply write essays for class. I miss the give and take of a short story and the beauty of poetry.

So welcome to the project. Welcome to the musings of a bard born in a different age...or so I wish. In truth, welcome to my addled mind and the various thoughts that fly through it.