Veiled Mourning

we watched him frown
we watched him turn away
we watched him sigh
we watched him fade to grey

we saw him cry
we saw him crawl
we saw him keel
we saw him fall

we mourned his passing
we mourned his beauty bright
we mourned his presence
we mourned his spirit's light

all in that moment
all in that place
all in that shadow
all in that face

we knew he was dying
we knew he was failing
we knew he was fallen
we knew he was fading

though we did nothing
though we stood by
though we watched all
though we didn't cry

still he fought on
still he tried
still he struggled
still he died

Siren's Call

Walking empty streets
Not knowing the way
The future beneath my feet
Face turned to yesterday

Thinking it was all unfair
It must have been fate
That you were standing there
'Ere it was too late

I crashed into you unseeing
In this quiet place
Shaking my entire being
Though I never saw your face

I couldn't hear
When you spoke to me
Blinded by fear
I somehow couldn't see

But it was then that you said
That I should not be afraid
That I should look ahead
That my mistakes could be unmade

I should have been listening
I should have seen
You were all I was missing
All that might have been

Between Darkness and Flame

I wrote what follows for fun; it may or may not appear in my book and will likely undergo serious rewrites when/if it does. Just throwing this out there to say that the show is indeed still on.



It was the lone light of a candle that finally broke the darkness, sinuous shadows scattering wildly before the flickering flame. The light was so bright, after being blinded by the blackness, that she could not endure it, instead looking away with slitted eyes to assess the state of her body. Pain throbbed through her ankles in dull thrusts as if the iron manacles that encircled them were really serrated knives sawing through her flesh. Dark red rivulets oozed out from beneath the manacles to mingle with the dried crust of old blood. She could feel the weakness in her limbs. She struggled grimly to pull herself together, to sit up and face the candlebearer with stoic defiance, but it seemed that her body would not respond to her will. Nausea gripped her and she retched, though nothing came up but air. She collapsed on her side, breathing heavily. Still, she tried to face her tormentor. With as much feeble strength as she could muster, she tried to roll onto her back so she could see him. Sudden, harsh, derisive laughter greeted her ears, as the pain of a heavy blow hammered her head, followed by the return of sweet, merciful darkness.

It felt like an eternity had passed, but the candlelight was still there when she awoke once more, though much dimmer. From where she lay, sprawled on her side, she could see the candle sitting on the stone floor, burning low and guttering. Her head pounded painfully, echoing the throbbing in her ankles, so it was some time before the implications of the candle's presence sank in. She froze. A voice hissed from the darkness behind her.

"Where isss Nashhhina Arisssana? Where isss the Shhhadowsssong?"

Copyright Ryan Adams, October 12, 2008 (oh yes, i take this very seriously)

Hiatus

The Thesis keeps me busy.
Poetry and writing shall come again.
Fear not.

sunrise

willowy branches
dappled in shadow
sparkling with light
in the mellow dew
of morning's mist

lost in thoughts

sitting by himself
in a lonely corner
eyes upon the ceiling
counting the cracks
sunbeams cross the floor
as time slowly passes
he watches the dust
float through the air
bones ache and groan
but still he sits alone

a drop in the ocean

she sat alone upon the bluff
looking out across the sea
a song did issue from her lips
of sorrow soft and sweet
teardrops fell from her cheeks
to mingle far below
with salty waves and ocean spray
to drown in the deep

for friendship

today, i went to a housewarming party for a friend i've known for a long time. the theme of the party was that we had to create something decorative for her new room. some people made paintings and others made sculptures of fantastical creatures. my contribution was this poem, since i have very little artistic talent. my friend wrote it in watercolour paint and painted some flowers around it for me. the poem itself is lighthearted, but i think conveys the message of how all her friends care for her. the creatures in the poem are references to some of the paintings and sculptures that others created for her.


candles flicker and shadows dance
across the walls, figures prance
moving, changing with every glance
teasing you at every chance

you may see a hedgehog there
or rabbits breeding everywhere
and a robot, to be fair
all have beauty, all are rare

but look inside and you will see
that these creatures are meant to be
reflections of those you see
in your heart, roaming free

old wounds

appearing as if from thin air
a shimmering image of mist
in frosted, regal glory
she beheld ancient ruins
of a kingdom torn apart
in this there was no pain
only sadness in her heart
a reflection of her soul
lost in shadows

a king in my own mind

spinning further and deeper
i know you just want to help me
but i'm not in this to be your slave
push me harder, make me feel
like there's nothing in my world

and then i close my eyes

you judged me then, i used to be afraid
used to be afraid to let it show
but now i can drown the monster
make all the bad dreams go away
i refuse to be your slave

and when i close my eyes

a darkness falls, closing it all out,
brighter than any light of day
in there you cannot touch me
no matter how hard you may try
you judge me now, but i'm not bowed

a king in my own mind


*** modified lyrics to suit my mood from the song "The Quiet Place" by In Flames. all credit for original lyrics go to them***

a sunny afternoon

we make music
in the daylight
watch the sun fly
across blue sky
we just lie here
on the green grass
breeze gently flows
as we compose
fingers entwined
lips softly brush
the music soars
we kiss some more

upon the shores of eire

in the darkest hours
we dance by moon's light
eyes shining brightly
shadows in the night
prancing on the sand
spirits taking flight
azure and emerald
such a wondrous sight

risks of wishes

to sail around the world
to drive a fancy car
to ride a motorcycle
to travel very far

to follow every dream
to catch a falling star
to make a wistful wish
to see her from afar

to hope for her favour
to keep the door ajar
to allow her in my heart
to invite a future scar

mysterious

i look at her sometimes,
that girl who i love,
and i wonder
who is it that i see?

a million worlds
behind those eyes,
inaccessible,
as she smiles at me

day 1

well, things got off to a good start today. i didn't get quite as much writing done as i would like, but that was because i felt the need to alter a few of my plans. in any case, i got enough done that my first chapter should be completed by either tomorrow or monday (since i am taking weekends off).

it was so exciting to start writing again. i was all giddy and could not sleep the night before. i can't get ahead of myself though. i have a long, long way to go.

pulling up to the starting line

i begin writing full-time on may 1st, starting at 9am. i will be working on my novel 8 hours a day, 5 days per week (at a minimum). since my last book update, i have gotten plenty of productive brainstorming done and have managed to nail down a key plot element for a later chapter.

i've bottled up my writing for the past year, so i'm feeling like i have a lot to put down on paper. hopefully, i will be able to achieve quite a bit in the months to come. the plan is to finish and submit the manuscript for review by the end of august, 2009.

of course, nothing ever goes according to plan, but i figure i had better get a move on.

a midnight tryst

gently whispered laughter
hearts are beating faster
muted sultry banter
clothing ripped to tatters
quiet moans thereafter

males telling tales over ales

a bard with missing teeth
and a dirty, smelly thief
sat down telling tales
over misbegotten ales.
they sat on a tavern bench
to discuss a certain wench.
"she's mine!" the thief cried,
to which the bard replied:
"my friend, can't you see?
she belongs with me."
so they argued long and hard,
did the thief and the bard.
they argued into the night
and there may have been a fight,
but for the timely arrival
of she for whom they were rivals.
there she came, that lovely wench.
hips swaying, she passed the bench
"there she is," said the thief,
and the bard stared in disbelief.
but there she was, beauty fine,
and both thought: "she's divine!"

the 'wench' came into the tavern,
as dimly lit as a cavern
it was, so dark and so dank
and the smell of sweat so rank,
that she dared not inhale,
as the air was rotten and stale.
but though it was dark and grim,
she pushed through the din
of dirty and rowdy patrons
and girls with soiled aprons.
somewhere within this place
a man lay with his face
in a sodden pool of ale
and vomit upon a table,
as was his custom nightly;
a disgrace most unsightly.
his daughter it was who came,
worried he may besmirch his name,
at the same time every night
to rouse him from his plight.
and so it was once more
that she walked through the door,
through the murky gloom
of the smoky room,
when whom did she espy
as she was walking by,
but two men telling tales
staring at her over ales.

"come sit upon my bench,"
said the thief to the wench.
"are you jesting?" said the wench,
"you give off such a stench!"
"Don't mind him," said the bard,
"he always tries so hard,
but what he thinks ingratiation
comes across as desperation.
come to me and you will see
it is with me that you should be."
the wench began to laugh
and said "are you daft?
for toothless as you are,
your friend is better by far."
with that she walked away,
and thief to the bard did say:
"that wench will love me yet,
though she plays hard to get."
"forget it," said the singer,
"she's wrapped around my finger."
the girl retrieved her drunken father,
who could not see she was his daughter,
and brought him through the gloom
of the dirty, smoky room,
past the thief and bard
who were trying very hard
to pretend they didn't care
and that they didn't stare.
then when she had gone,
they both looked forlorn,
and like all rejected males,
they returned to their ales.

of ice and ashes

this blog is meant as an outlet for my creative energies, be that poetry (as witnessed by my first 6 posts) or any other idiosyncratic whimsy.

it also serves as a place for news concerning the novel i am writing, tentatively entitled 'Exodeus', which is the first in a planned series of eleven high fantasy novels.

updates concerning this mighty endeavour will be infrequent, as i plan to spend the majority of the next year writing the novel with as few distractions as possible. happily, however, some of those few distractions may manifest themselves as poems or other minutiae on this blog. what's that you say? you couldn't care less about poems or minutiae? ahh well...

oblivious oblivion

nursing growing
and becoming
living loving
and belonging
making shaping
procreating
laughing singing
sometimes weeping
sewing weaving
never thinking

that the thread will snap

discarded gifts

petals strewn about
so indiscriminately
callous rejection

secret shame

i wish you could know
my innermost thoughts

for though it would seem
at a casual glance

that my heart is cold
and blind to your charm

you wouldn't see me so
could you read my soul

fragile awakening

if all of our thoughts
are leaves on the wind,
then how do we know
where to begin?

how do you say,
to the one you love,
that leaves on the wind
are just not enough?

if life flows like sand
through grasping fingers,
how can we show
that our love will linger?

fragments of sanity

dim awareness
no sleep in 3 nights

the voices are telling m-
zzzzzzzzzzzz

a dark suspicion

Eight number the wicked
In the days of old
Seated on their thrones
In the freezing cold

Eight number the wicked
In their fury bold
Reigning over bones
In their frosty hold

Eight number the wicked
Or so I have been told