Wolf

For those just joining, here are the prompts I’m using: One here and one here.

And on we go writing poems by the handful. I’d like to say it gets easier, and a bit it does. I’m working on not working so hard on this. And so if you’re reading these and thinking that they sure do suck ass, I only ask that you forgive me for the imperfection.

These are exercises, in a sense. The goal isn’t to only get through it, though I am catching up on a month of unwritten poems in just a few days, I am trying my best! But the trick, if these were ever to actually make their way into publication, will be to edit, rewrite, and find what makes these poems shine.

The Mirror to Nowhere

There it hangs upon the wall
Reflecting there beyond the fall
What lies there in the goneaway?

A world collapsed
A world to discover

Reach both hands and grip tight
Hold it close and breathe out blight
What hope rises anew from the breath you drew?

A land to grow
A land brimming

“Take me far away,” I say,
“to dance and sing, to renew,
that will carry us through.”

The Sleeping Marsh

“There I thought a boulder, there.”
Where, my dear, what see you, dear?
“Well, I say, I see there, well, a troll.”
A troll! Aye, well, was so nice a stroll…

“Quiet yet, he’ll not see us yet, asleep.”
Aye, but whisper, sweet, or we’re meat.
“They say they turn to stone come light.”
Take my hand, sweet, and we’ll take flight.

“It reeks, this swamp, so monster full.”
Oh, aye, but long will it cling to this wool.
“Such brutal faults we’ve made, my love.”
Alight, aflight, on and away like a dove.

“Long we wander, will ever we see home?”
Aye, but what fun we’ve had on our roam.
“The troll, it moved, come now, hurry past.”
Yes, aye, so long as this does forever last.

The Snowbound Tomb / Rodent

In the wastes past Mount Manticore
Sleeps the long lost queen of winter
There they seek her tomb to explore
Praying for riches buried with her.

Wintry winds blast overland
Collars high, coats tight, breathing clouds
They burrow in the queen’s cairn so grand
Where the promise of riches enshrouds

Rats scurry and nip and bite
Much to our adventurer’s delight
Unmasked, whiskers unfurl, snouts high
They scent the air and gleeful they cry

“Death! Rot! Husk!” they laugh and scream
This rodent brotherhood found their dream
Past traps and ghouls they raid their queen
Filling their bags with copper green.

Yet though they cheer they’ll never leave
And none will know or even grieve.

The Fungal Deepwood

There they dance my men of shroom
Rains drum gainst the fungi bloom
And there they sing of all our doom
Turning this forest into our tomb