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[TD1]

Ah, indeed, the burn was tremendous.

I've been busy lately settling in at Denmark, but I'll start up again tonight. Nice to see someone with interest, though!

[TD1]

An unexpected guest

He has come, who I gave my name
Who I nurtured through infancy.
Things are no longer the same,
And yet he came for me
When I called, when I asked
Upon the folded sheets of death
That he be here. My talisman
Against encroaching fear,
My courage and my bravery.
He smiles that small, remembered
Insult on my nature
The man who left him
Broke his heart
Left his life, fled
To make a better start
With someone else.
I would cry if I were not dry,
So stiff and aged that youthfulness
Is but a dream for me.
I left him, yet he came.
Through the delirium that is death
I see his eyes shine blue
And through the glare, the
Last glare I'll ever look upon,
I see his face, his wonderful face.
How could I leave, when he was there?
Death gathers round me, held by but a hair -
But hand still struggles to move
To reach out through years
And touch that still-young face,
Perhaps to wipe away
A few unearn-ed tears.
But in the end, I lie
In thinking that I could,
For all that's good has gone but him,
And all the wells are dry.

Jester

His hands are fast, his wits are sharp
His eye is blazing light!
Gather around to see his work,
My friends; he's here until the night!
Astound your senses with his act
His juggling of the flame and ball.
But tarry longer, and you'll see
Performance better suited to a hall
Than this bare stretch of green.
Come, gather, see the colour
The blue, the white, the red and gold!
He makes each life seem fuller.

Laugh if that's your will, my friends, the time
Has come with setting of the sun!
He must leave now for food and sleep -
'Tis now the end of all your fun!
Away he'll be come morning's light
To some far-flung place to fling his name.
What's that? You think he is a sorry sight
To wander roads alone (all sights the same)
For nothing but a slim smile and copper bit.
Nay, you are wrong! His will is strong.
He does not weary of the road, nor grow
Too sad with passing of the year. The way
He walks is never melancholy,
And he lives to greet each coming day!

For tomorrow: dedication to a cause

[TD1]

Given you gave the Jester prompt, Tomasque, I expect you to complete it!

Anyway, for today:

Feast on the dead, crow, live
To eat the flesh of innocence.

Long have I lived to walk
This bare, reproachful earth
Seen suns that fell
And living hell.
I have battled the demons
That were in my soul
Yet also ones that walk
To take from life their toll.
Many lands flash before my gaze
Each individual, yet the same
Devoted to the same endless,
Destructive ways.
The years pile heavy on my shoulders
And my brow -
Why help the poor, the lonely?

No reason to it all,
Inherently it lacks sense.
Instead, let live the crow,
That feasts on innocence!

Then came the soothing hand
Upon my burning brow.
The years were sand that fell,
To sift into the rolling waves
That was my joy.
I was renewed, remembered
Love and hope. Long sat I
Under oak and elm and beech
Listening to the lessons
Only she could teach.

But time wears on, and fades
Life and its memories!
Her eyes, once bright, are dim
And I feel darkness gather,
Gather like my prior sin.
I have forgotten all I learned of laughter
Instead to feel rejection, the
Tetherlessness of a boat in the ocean
A bird underground.

She smiles at me with death
Already claiming her.

Curse the crow, and death as well!
I will subjugate heavens
Raise hells and oceans and beasts
If she would live.
So shall I do!
I live but for one thing,
To turn the tide no matter
What it costs
In effort or in dissonance.
Aye, I have given oath
To slay that thrice damned crow
Which feasts on innocence.

For tomorrow: Wings

[Tomasque]

Given you gave the Jester prompt, Tomasque, I expect you to complete it!

In a jail a figure lies:  7
Unmoving gaze;. 4
Unmoved for days.  4
 within or from its stone stall.  7
Unbeknownst to anyone,. 7
 its mind is dead to all. 6

This is but the final scene.
Much has passed
 before this last
 page of story. It'd be best
 to begin from beginning:
The Jester's Jealous Jest.

It started when the king's wise fool -
 The king was wise
 but in the eyes
 of fool he was just a doll
 - saw the court thought him foolish;
Saw fit to mock them all.

In his time alone he schemed.
He thought it through;
What he would do;
At last, found a fool-proof plan:
Mannequins to puppets made -
 puppets made like man.

Hidden in the balconies,
He played the knight:
 by day, he'd fight
 and by night court maiden fair.
He even sat his king doll,
 atop the doll king's chair.

One day, he saw fit to jest
 the eldest prince.
 Malevolence
 was acted out in his guise.
The guards pulled it to the floor,
 then down fell all the lies.

The jester fled to safety:
His room. Inside,
 he tried to hide.
They found it under the bed.
Limp and stiff, they dragged it off -
 What they thought man half-dead.

In a jail a figure lies:
Unmoving gaze;
Unmoved for days
 within or from its stone stall.
Unbeknownst to anyone,
 their fool has fooled them all.

[Tomasque]

 I really like the unexpected guest poem you made. It's really touching.

[Tomasque]

Wings
In flight it seems so graceful,
 like a swan upon a lake.
On the ground, a sight distasteful -
 something science should not make.

It was foolish, I can tell,
 to put wings
 upon this thing.
However, I could not find hell,
 and no ice
 would quite suffice
 in cooling it too well.

But now they say I misheard.
They lie - I heard it right.
"When pigs fly," were their own words,
Now they buckle at the sight.

[TD1]

Sorry for delay. A bad mood combined with work load increase made me less than amenable.
Thanks for the compliment on the unexpected visitor one - though, I really didn't know what to make of that prompt despite the fact I wrote it, hehe.

To fly, and not be seen;
To move, yet not to dream
Of what may once have been,
Hidden within a Sphinx's sting.

Icarus knew it well, when sailing
High the overbearing clouds
He heard a music, dreaming, dreaming
Of sun and rain and hope and joy.

He died, though he was but a boy.
And yet, that music which he heard -
That full-blown, autumn inspiring tune
Can yet make grown men love the bird

And all its freedom. Dreaming, dreaming
Of clouds and water and earth and sky.
So would I be, had I the wings
Until the day I die.

For tomorrow: A memory of a childhood activity or event.

[RoseHeart]

wings

Wings and Things,
Bones and spleen,
Heart and caw,
Mate
Kind
Romantic and divine,
A scavenger of affections
In a giant's world

The crow

[birdy51]

Flight ethereal, serene
Watch the shimmering feathers
As they sink and dive.

[Urist Mc Dwarf]

A memory

The bite of cold upon my cheeks
From nearby, a cardinal's screech
My focus on the snow below
And my brand new sled
Left and right I turn my head
Down below the hill's end
I ride and cry
Frozen tears
As I leave the hill

But still, but still
This memory's joy
Is worth the price in pain
As years go by
And time flies
I still have this happiness

[TD1]

I really liked that, Urist Mc Poet Dwarf.

"Walk down the lane, but hide the frown!
Ye who would wander freely here
Must careful be, of alligators free
In ditch and den from here to town!"

Yes, so he spoke unto his son
Who saw the slimy, grey green backs
Slipping between the trees
And 'round the wood-log stacks.

"Why here?" I'd moan, and clutch his hand.
He'd smile and say, with a wise twinkle-laugh
Caught in his eye, that they had come to eat
His son - for bothering his poor old da!

And if he would so freely frown and walk
Between the trees, that nature's arch
Which seasons laid for him to stalk -
Why, then they'd come to halt his march!

After that, I saw them often in the brook
The shadows of the trees, the leaf-strewn ground -
Yet all I'd do was look, and sigh, and cease to frown
'Ere they would get me, somewhere 'twixt here and town!

For tomorrow: A pledge or promise

[TD1]

Paladin's Pledge

Hold up the blade of Justice,
Dawn and truth revealing all
I pledge to shield the weak
And hound the fool to fall.

Bring forth the ranks of foe-men
Let loose the hounds of war.
They'll meet cold Justice
And be frozen to the core.

Lesser iron will fail to harm
For gauntlet blocks and girder guards.
I sing no songs of solitude,
That favoured theme of bards.

My pledge is thus to journey all
The world around its width -
Protector, shield and man
Who wakes each day to death.

For tomorrow: A mountainous landscape
If anybody else wants to add a prompt, feel free. I'm beginning to struggle not to repeat myself.

[birdy51]

Bounded by twin rings.
A matrimony serene.
May love never die.

[TD1]

Black against the sky
Black with fingers
Twitching, searching
For sun, for earth,
For blood of mountains
On which to sup.

Deep cuts, so deep
The shadow swirls
Black, substance
Given to its bulk
A sharpness to its fold,
Or idleness to its hold.

Green, verdant
Pasture land.
Languid sheep
The shepherds keep.
Grey huts, simple folk
And cooking on the stove.

Roar of the sea
Susurrations,
Undulations.
Cold iron foam
Dark eddies
Toppling the throne.

All leads to it
Highest
Mightiest
The Gods' Seat
Mountain range,
Passing strange.

Edit: OR

It
Is black
Against the sky.
So foul, yet fair to see
Where birds and demons fly.
The mountain range is dark with
Every creature large or small, no cause
To ask a person why - as is, always was so.
To ask is to make one seem clever, yet still a fool
And anyway, those living here abouts are made to sow
Not think of why, why darkness broods and nature sits to stare
Upon the bleakness of that stone, that pale-white picked-on bone...
Indeed, no answers here. But do not give to fear, for mountain roots
Sink deeper than their surface, so they say, and it may yet be seen that here
The roots sink deeper, deeper, darker and further until they break the bare restraint
That earth and solemn sod had forced upon him. Aye, this mountain may break a glacier
In some frozen arctic scene, no shepherd's crook to rule its brook, and light to shine a chandelier
Issuing from the pores of stately marble-like material. And the locals may bow their heads before it
And love how its very presence attracts and ne'er repels, how all are welcome in its shade without a fear.

For tomorrow: Ambition

[TD1]

Always to move the cogs, the groan
Of ash and marble ground, a throne
Of darkness gaping ever wider
Baring its teeth, its tomb-stone ring -
Here lie I! Forever forced to sing
A song of spring-time, church time,
Loving melody, stately rhyme.
Cogs of ambition grind! The very
Soul of uttered word is forced
Through sieve and ditch and dike,
Hounded through the electric coffin
Of the speaker's mic.

For a quick buck the antlers shed
And words crystallise, frozen, in the head.

For tomorrow: Hallowed