LARP (fragment)Though a form of foam and latex serves for sword or axe or spearLARP (fragment)2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
And our armour's by and large made out of tin
For five hours every weekend, six full weekends every year
We're a world away from where we've always been
We are villains, traitors, heroes, we are ordinary men
We are soldiers, surgeons, priests and scholars too
And until the fighting's done and we pick up 'real life' again
We've a hundred other things we've got to do
Sort this - sort that - take a report from the scout
Order your arms and armour, look to your tent and shrine
Kit up - look sharp - ready yourselves to move out
Mutter a prayer to the gods above
And hold - hold the line!
So we're shouting 'double strikedown' and we're shouting 'single through'
And we're counting every second on the floor
And half of us have faces that are half held on with glue
And more than half are covered in fake gore
And later, when the battle's done, we'll have a drink or two
And laugh ourselves half sick at what went on
But we're c
PrisonerYou always knew they'd fuck you over. Never any doubt. Civilians playing at being 'heroes', with no idea of how badly what they were doing was going to blow up in their faces. Either that, or they just didn't care.Prisoner2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
And you went along with them anyway. How's that for loyalty?(Or stupidity, you admit. Very possibly stupidity.) And hey, look where it got you. Who's surprised?
Nothing much you can do about it now, though. Said your piece, tried your arm at diplomacy (and you were never much good at that to begin with. Too fond of saying what you thought, always have been. And look where it got you), and all for what? A load of empty promises about how they're going to treat you honourably, a deal done when their commander's back was turned, and a bunch of stupid bastards selling you up the river for information you haven't got and wouldn't give them if you had it.
At least you're not dragging anyone else down with you. Two dead bodies is bad enough (and where were you, when they fell? Why
The Wind Beneath My WingsA gust,The Wind Beneath My Wings3 years ago in Scraps More Like This
Ruffling the feathers of my charcoal wings
Hung low in my despair.
A tilt of the chin
To the dark midnight of hopes and dreams
I cannot reach,
Twinkling as if they still are beckoning me.
I was numbed.
I gave up on them long ago.
Another soft caress;
Like a push urging me gently forward.
It is not like the cold I am accustomed to,
But warm as it rushes past me.
I have not felt the wind in so long.
So much time spent nailed to the ground.
Do they even work anymore;
These blackened wings of mine,
Tainted with the darkness I used to dwell with
And ruined by my impurities?
Though they are tattered and weak
I cautiously let them unfurl.
The shiver spreads.
Cradled gently by this warm wind I give myself
The courage I've denied.
This is where I'll fly,
This is where I'll somehow piece myself back together
And it's all thanks to you;
You're the air beneath my wings,
Helping me soar.
My charcoal wings are turning white.
Love and AnachronismsPoetic forms all seem too much confinedLove and Anachronisms1 year ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
To catch the lightning spark that fires your thought
A paradox - that they'd seem too refined
When sharp refinement's by your thinking caught
You shape yourself in half-fantastic past
And dream in brass and copper, cogs and steam
But nail a stranger future to the mast
And set your sail towards that distant gleam
I cannot hope to match your racing mind
Nor catch it in a net of stuttering verse
Your brightness shines beyond my wit to bind
My words dissolve, the syllables disperse
A writer, caught without a word to say,
Save that my love has stole my voice away.
Dare to DreamSo bravely envisioning goals within your mind,Dare to Dream3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
those same goals that slowly change to dreams,
reflected in your eyes not just the aspirations
of a creative mind,
but of a dreamer.
The smallest of smiles,
as if to seal the deal...
already so eager to reach your destination,
with butterfly wings strapped to your back
and arms outstretched to soar.