Posted in fantasy, My Poetry, tragedy, Writing

The Gate of Resurrection – #writephoto

No feeling of connection.
The Gate of Resurrection
Holds nothing but deception…
He won’t be coming back.

When stars become erratic
And grief makes all life static,
We wish for sacred magic—
The power which we lack:

To battle death’s embraces,
To bring back stolen faces,
To visit darkened places
And color them with gold.
Alas, the stars keep burning
All hope, and joy, and yearning.
The planet keeps on turning
As death makes life grow cold.

Eternal disconnection,
No guide and no direction,
No sight of resurrection;
The Gate is sealed for good.

She stands beside it, hollow,
While demons feed her sorrow
And whisper: “Fear the morrow
As every mortal should.”

gate


University is awesome except when it takes up 99 percent of your free time=D I lasted about… a week? before I began skipping classes. Some of them are just not worth it.

Anyway, this was written in response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt.

I hope to catch up with all my usual prompts/challenges this week… but homework is always unpredictable D=

As usual, thank you for reading! All comments and criticism are welcome=)

Posted in Challenges, drama, fantasy, My Poetry, tragedy, Writing

Crimson Dawn

They said I’d never see the crimson dawn,
Yet in my heart is she, the crimson dawn.

They said I’d lose a duel with a god,
Yet fate has gifted me the crimson dawn.

I look upon the foe I used to love…
His drying blood could be the crimson dawn.

The loss is mine and there’s no turning back,
Alas, I cannot flee the crimson dawn.

I fall into the storm of the unknown,
At last, my hatred frees the crimson dawn.

1094px-the_dawn_by_john_la_farge_1899_oil_on_canvas_-_fogg_art_museum_harvard_university_-_dsc01212


A ghazal written for Jane Dougherty’s Poetry Challenge.

This form was hard. Excruciatingly hard. But yeah, this is what I managed to write. Excuse the weird rhythm.

Oh, and I tried, but I couldn’t find a way to insert my name into the last stanza. Just didn’t work. Anyway…

Feel free to comment!

Posted in Challenges, drama, fantasy, flash fiction, Prose, tragedy, Writing

The Assassin’s Task

It wasn’t easy to make himself look like an ancient wandering priest. It was even harder to talk his way into the mansion, but the young assassin had managed it. The powder he’d slipped into Lord Rowan’s drink would kill him by twilight, and no physician would be able to detect the elusive poison.

The boy felt proud of himself, but also scared. He wasn’t sure whether the leaders of the Order would praise him for completing a task assigned to a more experienced assassin or flog him for disobedience. He contemplated different scenarios as he left the Lord’s land, but since none of them ended in sudden death, the boy deemed it safe to show up on his mentor’s doorstep.

After hearing his student’s story, the elder assassin said,

“You use magic well.”

“I tried my best.”

“You… enjoyed killing him, didn’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

As the future assassin went to sleep, looking forward to the leaders’ decision, his mind was continuously assaulted by the images of the smiles he’d seen on the faces of Lord Rowan’s children. They didn’t have to kill to be happy, so what was wrong with him?


Written for both the Daily Post prompt and Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge.

Assassins, magic, and Van Gogh. Never thought that combination would inspire a story.

All comments are welcome!

Posted in drama, fantasy, kyrielle sonnet, My Poetry, tragedy, Writing

Existence Is Insanity

I roam this dark abandoned crypt,
Estranged from lush reality,
My form is frail and nondescript.
Existence is insanity.

I run from judgment, hiding here,
Afraid of the calamity
I’d wreak by letting go of fear—
Existence is insanity.

A ghost, forever lost, alone,
I can’t accept mortality.
So desolation is my home,
Existence is insanity.

I roam this dark abandoned crypt…
Existence is insanity.

crypt


Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt.

Feel free to comment!

Posted in My Poetry, tragedy, Writing

No Time To Run

The nightmare overwhelms us–
it’s silencing our voice.
A gunshot,
an explosion…
no time to run–no choice.

The never-ending motion
of war,
and pain,
and death…
Why not unite in kindness
and cherish life
instead?


84 killed yesterday in Nice, France.

The recent attacks in Falcon Heights, Dallas and Baton Rouge.

Many more are being killed around the world every. single. day.

Isn’t it a nightmare?

Posted in drama, fantasy, kyrielle, My Poetry, tragedy, Writing

An Age of Woe

I journey through the dark abyss,
Recalling things I’ll sorely miss.
There’s no escape for me ahead;
An age of woe greets me instead.

I journey through abandoned dreams,
Where matter is torn at the seams,
I thought by now I would be dead–
An age of woe greets me instead.

Can’t I let go of wrath and hate?
I curse the gods, I curse my fate…
I was prepared for wretched dread–
An age of woe greets me instead.


This kyrielle was inspired by Roger Zelazny. Or, more accurately, his fantasy series, The Chronicles of Amber. Those who read the fifth book will understand.

And of course, written for today’s Daily Post prompt — journey.

Feel free to comment!

Posted in drama, fantasy, My Poetry, rondelet, tragedy, Writing

There’s Nothing Here

There’s nothing here,

The gods forsook our universe.

There’s nothing here

But false existence plagued by fear.

This desolation won’t disperse

For time cannot go in reverse–

There’s nothing here.


Yet another rondelet (I adore this poetry form to bits) in response to today’s Daily Post prompt. If you’re interested, here are some other rondelets I’ve written.

Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments!

Posted in drama, fantasy, minute poetry, My Poetry, tragedy, Writing

I Wish She Knew

At break of day her spirit burns
but she returns
to sit alone
in the unknown.

She sees a gentle azure sky.
She wants to fly
above the sea
back home, to me.

She doesn’t know that she’s a ghost—
her soul is lost.
I wish she knew
I miss her too.

487px-Heinrich_Vogeler_Sehnsucht_(Träumerei)_c1900.jpg


Written in response to this week’s poetry challenge. How does Jane Dougherty always know how to inspire me? This is another form I loved playing with — a minute poem. And yaaay, a poem about love! Not the cosmos, or nature, or assassins, or any philosophical BS. Looove.

Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments!