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Poetry posted 03 Jun 2008, 16:06 by ThePrinceofNothing, Candidate

I've copied two short poems here for all to read. I'd appreciate any criticism you all have to offer. I think you'll like the first one. It's titled "Birth." I wrote it a while ago, before I read Bakker; but I think it bears some similarities to Cnaiur's quest to avenge his father's death: "Birth" Born from warm flesh into cold night, Son of Boreas wild; I break the skin, I cry for sight, My father’s firstborn child. The sunlight breaks through veiled skies, The wind kisses my brow, A son is born, a father dies, But live I shall for now. The frozen stills of distant hills Are my eternal stage. The promise of the grave fulfills The consequence of rage; And oceans can’t contain my fury, And mountains prove no test To find him and his body bury Who laid my father to rest. The flame of birth is kindled, slow, Till like a blaze it roars; And manhood begs my name to know, From near to distant shores. I’ll scream it out in heathen tongues To all lands of the earth, Till breath has all but fled my lungs, And death fulfills my birth. The second is untitled and is based upon a dream I had: "Untitled: A Dream" Upon a bark, upon a stream, Down waters swift we rode; Within the darkness of a dream, Towards waterfalls we flowed. We yearned for where the river came Abruptly to an end, For there our spirits, free of shame, The One-eyed would commend. We gripped the shafts that bore our steel, And screamed upon the tide; The rapids’ rocks had torn the keel, And hewn the starboard side. My arm I could no longer feel, My brothers all had died, Save two, who by my side did kneel And roar in feral pride. We raised our swords towards the sky, And bellowed in a tongue Of heathen kin-a pagan cry- As water drenched the lung. Before our eyes the shores did fleet, As did our lives still young, Which we, like blood soaked in a sheet, From out the sheet had wrung. Forth I did shout my father’s name- Recalled my mother’s face- I saw my wife, who always came To me in my disgrace. I heard my son; his laughter rose From memories long past- Would this, my life, I still have chose To have it end at last? We come now to the end of all, Where waters fall to fate, And course beyond the waterfall Where stormy graves await. I scream and thrust my blade on high: “Valhalla!” comes the call; And blood adorns the pagan sky From which my brothers fall. My eyes open in dreariness; The dark smells of despair. I feel consumed by weariness And terror as I stare Upon a cave where echoes rang, A cavern deep and wide, From which I see in thousands hang My brothers who have died. view post


Re: Poetry posted 06 Jun 2008, 22:06 by Curethan, Didact

Hey, very nice. I enjoyed both of those. Very descriptive and evocative, strong ryhme scheme. The rythym is good too - though there were a couple of lines in the second that jarred a little; if it wasn't first thing in the morning here I could be a little more constructive :P view post


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