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Post by anirbas on Feb 7, 2007 22:26:47 GMT -6
i.
i write of swords,
because i know the pain
they can inflict;
symbolically, or otherwise.
i write of swords,
as i know brandished
in the right hands,
they become protection.
i write of swords,
because they are the reality checks
in beauteously, fantastical fairytales;
whether wielded by males or females.
i write of swords,
as they remind me of when i was a child,
with the straightest stick, i could find,
gripped in my hand, yelling "on guard";
leaping and jumping on pointe
about the backyard.
i write of swords,
but swords do not write of me.
they seek instead, to slash,
impale, and kill me...
forget swords.
i think i will start
writing about flowers.
ii.
the bad man charged me,
with not the least of good intentions
in mind for me.
instead, he wished to mug me!
i picked up a daffodil,
and beat him severly
about the head with it.
he ran, with his tail
between his legs...
i dunno, it just doesn't seem
to have as much dash or pinnache
without the flavor of steel...
the monster, jumped out of the dark.
i grabbed a carnation and poked him
back into the shadows, where he belonged...
nah, that just doesn't do it for me, either.
she pulled a nasturtium,
from the tooled scabbard,
hanging from her sash-
and said, argh. heave ho?
no. no. no.
i write about swords,
because flowers,
may make you smile,
or give your boyfriend,
a second chance-
but blossoms, don't
protect you, very well.
well, maybe if you ate them.
there would be some
nutritional benefit.
i am still writing about swords,
because i have pulled up verbally lame,
like a dark horse, no one was betting on to win, anyway.
and now, my writing about swords,
is done and over for the evening,
as i am heading to the land of nod,
to dream of broadswords and fencing foils...
claymoores and scimitars...daggars and stillettos...
vined and twined with flowers, of course...
~*~
hehe. lamity is a disease of the mind...haha.
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Post by DavidMc on Feb 20, 2007 0:37:01 GMT -6
the monster, jumped out of the dark. i grabbed a carnation and poked him back into the shadows, where he belonged... Hehehe ... this a striking visual Empuress, as is the whole poem very enjoyable  Love, David |
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Post by anirbas on Mar 12, 2007 23:00:00 GMT -6
What a giggle inspiring surprise, Empurrurr!
I hadn't any idea you'd been by here!
Thanks millions, Empurrurrr!
Love, Sabrina.
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Post by anirbas on Mar 12, 2007 23:16:01 GMT -6
I stare at the corner sheathed sword...
Neglected, out of it's scabbard, gently dulling
from the steel-eyed glare of polished
platinum to the patina
of rusting iron...
Blackened
with shame
at it's disuse...
It's hilt and handle,
not encrusted with sparkling
gems, but an odd assortment
of carved flora, fauna, fairies and dragons...
I once wielded this metallic wand with great dexterity...
Slashing cyphers across stacks of papers...
Telling tales of knights, both cowardly and bold...
Ladies both bitter and beautiful...
Characterizations of dragons,
fairies and elves abounded
in my tales and one
wizened old crone
in a glade of rust...
Fleetingly,
I wonder where
the muse that spawned
those thought spasms went...
I was spastic with words beneath
that one's tuteluge...The pen cut swathes
of verse with verve and vigor as the sword...
That one, that sword standing in the corner...
Glaring balefully at me...
Still singing it's beautiful
with sadness dirge...
Awaiting the emergence of the next saga...
And it's next taste of blood and paper...
One and the same, for it and me...
One and the same...
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Post by anirbas on Mar 17, 2007 0:18:33 GMT -6
an angry or righteous pen is a sword...
capable of hacking off body parts...symbolically...
a happy pen is a pure white feather...
capable of bringing giggles...when used to tickle...
a peaceful pen is a willow wand...
waved, it brings soothe...like Buddha when he smiles...
a pen at rest, is a pen wasted, at best...
and totally wasted, at worst...
neither sword, nor feather, nor wand...
just a pen...not something more...nothing less...
~Sabrina.
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Post by anirbas on Apr 18, 2007 21:31:40 GMT -6
Swords...
Swords are heavy,
cumbersome objects
at best...They make a racket
everywhere one goes...
Dragging and bumping
in one's wake, sparks arcing
and jumping from the kiss
of concrete and steel,
with a cling, cling, clang;
cling, cling, clang, clang, cling.
Makes one sound rather
like a traveling one man band...
[Or woman, as the case may be.]
Ah, but swords...Swords, at their worst...
Swords are fierce with mercy, wisdom
or vigilantic justice...Depending
on the hand, wielding the sword...
Swords...
Swords are heavy,
cumbersome objects
at best...They make a racket
everywhere one goes...
But the only racket a feather
makes is giggles where it tickletickles...
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Post by MsM on May 5, 2007 23:45:55 GMT -6
Picture this...
Me in my hugest dragon form...
all a runnin stumblin on my dratted dragon clawed feets...
a snortin small belches of flames...while gigglin wild...lol...
pushin mounds of dug up earth in front of me as I slide to a stop
Clappin happy...in awe struck stupid nature over the words from my fair Lady bright...clappin snortin happy wild flammin giggles...
You m'Lady are a gift for these weary dragon eyes...they have missed the sight of you...you wonderful wicked woman...kisses
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Post by anirbas on May 5, 2007 23:57:37 GMT -6
I did as you bid, Lady MsM!
Pictured this and saw you in that...
Had a ton of giggles at the cypherically induced visuals
you slipped into my sleepinduced pumpkin head
with all that you said...um...er...typed...
Your draconic vision is about to be feasting
on the amazingly laden feast table of poems,
by many craftily creative poets
you shall find to orbitally ingest, here in...
Ah, but you shall see, Lady Fair and Bright, herself...
We've dragons and dalmaines, wers,
witches and wolf maidens, lore galore!
And then there's all the other stuff
on more than one floor!
Check it out...Take
a spin about...
You'll see...
And anytime,
you're ready,
pretty please
bring on,
the MsMic
poeming... ;D
kisses backatcha
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Post by MsM on May 6, 2007 0:03:55 GMT -6
I have held my sword in defense...
I have sheathed it in peace...
Yet...
I can not let it free of my hand...
There is a life I live in hope...
One day someone else...
Will take the need away...
The need to keep it so close...
If that one would hold still this hand...
I could then release my grip on fear...
Release my fear of what is to come...
Of what was done before that haunts...
It is another strength I need...
Till...then I shall hold tight this sword...
She protects me when I've the need...
She gives me comfort when I fear the worse...
My sword...my friend...my lifeline...
*hope u dont mind a few of mine mixed in for the good ol' times*
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Post by MsM on May 6, 2007 0:06:44 GMT -6
The sword you imbedded
in my heart has sickened me...
It drains me
leaving me weak...
The blood flow
slows...
Death's shadow
just out of reach...
I can see him smiling
he knows he has me now...
He won against you
happy this makes him...
My thanks dear friend as I will indeed read and adventure in the poems herein...and again thanks for askin me to bring on the poemin of mine... ;D
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Post by anirbas on May 6, 2007 0:25:43 GMT -6
I ADORE THAT YOU'VE SHARED YOUR OFFERINGS, WITHIN THIS THREAD!!!!
In fact, am thrilled and honored, for both old and new times sake!
And so to thee, I hand this horn of ambered mead...
Let us cross arms akimbo and drink simultaneaously
to Valkyries, Valhalla, swords and the making of the all might dollah!
To ancient dragon lore that embodied the power of the mother;
to tales of the Othernworld where the Queen of the Faeryfolk
doth hold court and decide which human child shall be stolen
and replaced with a changling, just for pranks and hi-jinx...
To poems of angst riddled reality and poetry
riddled with shafts of glorious lightness!
I know...Shut up, girlfriend...Let's drink this mead!
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Post by MsM on May 6, 2007 0:32:03 GMT -6
I toast the rekindling of friendships true...
Mead indeed...
Thanks for everything and the comments too...
LOL...
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Post by anirbas on May 6, 2007 0:35:46 GMT -6
tis off to the land of nodz this honeydrinker doth go...
i've not a poem in my head or a word left to sow...
as my brain is experiencing thought drain...
and thinking is becoming a major pain...
so away, away to sweet dreams i do fly...
though leaving you causes me a great sigh...
my eyes are seeing double and that is a trouble...
energy stores depleted, i've become a burst bubble...
gigglegiggle...in other words, this is good night, my Lady Fair and Bright...
sweet dreams, sweet sweeting and doncha let the bed bugs bite...
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Post by anirbas on May 6, 2007 0:37:28 GMT -6
you're very welcomezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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Post by MsM on May 6, 2007 0:54:06 GMT -6
;D Goodnight friend...sleep good...dream sweet in ur land of Nod
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Post by anirbas on May 15, 2007 11:04:31 GMT -6
*i did, mon ami...slept good...at least i think i did...i don't remember...as i've slept since then...ggglgggl*
~*~
Slips the door shut...
Tinkle of keys turning the lock...
Kitty and I both run to the window
for different reasons...She, as she already
misses her master and he's not even driven
off the street, yet...And I, as I can finally breathe...
Just making sure her master, not mine, the Troll King,
also known in some universes as The Real Black Hole,
infamous for positively sucking the very air,
from more than one person, situation or world...
Is this oblong, thin block of hate, The Spirit Eater, really gone?
If only for the moment, is he really proceeding down
the rut-pocked lane to the main highway?
Kitty sadly whines, outloud; as I whisper excitedly, outloud,
"Yes! Yes! Yes! The General has left the building!
And the god forsaken street, too!"
Conspiratorially, to Kitty I whisper further,
"Quick, Kitty! To the bitchcave to retrieve
that rusted sword of mine for me!
So, I can get back to work,
filing at this stake in my foot,
and these bothersome chains
a-rat-rat-rattling about me!"
These last days in the dungeon,
it's hard to hide, I am no one the Troll King
would recognize...Inside I've grown a thick caul
of viscuous, torpidly turgid gelatinous matter
stewed with the bits and pieces of where withall,
capable of withstanding the fiery blast
of any flesh searing,
bone crunching, bi-polarically
f*cked up, emaciated bulldragon...
Outwardly, I cannot hide
the incandescence glowing from within,
given off by my inner abestos suit...
It's essentiality, [just made up a word, I think...
poets can do that you know...oh, you know that...
you're a poet...LOL] It's essentiality, it's beingness
at my core, suffuses my flesh with a shine and a sheen
I cannot hide, no matter how vainly I try...
Rather suspicious when one's chained and staked
hostage gives off a glimmer another radio active meltdown
in full egress and progress would be proud to own...
As though the kidnapped knows something the kidnapper
doesn't...As though the enslaved thinks it has something
to look forward to...Freedom to be itself, not a thing...
An object to maim physically and destroy
emotionally, mentally and spiritually,
upon the Caligulaic whims
and will of a modern day Dracula...
I have no blood left to give at the bloodbank...
So, file, file, file away with my old rusty sword
at this tainted stake and these blasted chains
I continue to do...Wishing I had a cloaking device
to hide this effervescent soap bubble gleam
to my own betraying me like a mother f*cker skin...
[Sounds of an old sword sawing at metal.
Clinks and clanks of steel links rubbing at steel
links with the motion, duet the saw, saw, saw
it all to hell and back to heaven again sound
of an old sword sawing at metal, ever stoically.
Hisses of sparks flying with the friction,
and landing with a delicate sst of a sizzle
on unprotected flesh, which elicit an occasional
"Ouch" from the relentlessly saw, saw, sawing sawer.]
~*~
hahaha, Mishie...that's my day, couched in metaphorical,
symbolical near versical folklorical terminology...LOL...
gotta love a good old forgotten sword...abstract or not...Yes?
onwards, outwards and upwards with my soul I go...
loads more organizing to do before all is said and done...
coming into the proverbial homestretch,
into the ticking stopwatch gotta
make every minute count time...Nir.
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Post by wistfuldragon on May 16, 2007 9:55:18 GMT -6
You are more than a breath of much needed air for me Anir...and your words bring me back to myself when I feel most lost...I only wish that I could fly on the back of my dragonet to your side and help you retire from the life you once knew...lending my hands to help you embark on this new life of undreaded adventures...then I would have you and Ivy take a break so we could ride around the old streets on dragonet for your farewell tour...lol...I adore ya sestor...
If you have need...call...I will answer...Mishwistfuldragon
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Post by anirbas on May 19, 2007 1:01:19 GMT -6
Your words do and have always done the same for me, Mish...I wish you could take Ivy and me for a farewell ride on the Dragonet, too...But, can we skip this town to do it in? LOL...
Make it a victory ride instead, into a new town? Jeepers, I've not been on the back of a Harley in so long, when you went through the curves, I'd probably lean the wrong way and tilt us over...ggglgggl....That might be fun, too...Then, we could share a room at the hospital while we recuperated and demand
an all-male staff of nurses to care for us, round the clock...[BBB, the last sentence, is a figment of your imagination...ggglgggl]
~*~
Tired, I am...
Grizzled at the root
if the truth be known...
These years on end have worn
this female battle ax down, down, down to a frayed
and knotted twist of nothingness inside...Tired, or not...
I'm about to jump off this processional train wreck as it rolls...
It matters not, who was right or wrong...This ride is making
me sick...This ride has given me a tick and stolen the soul
of at least one other, I dragged in tow, onto it...The past
is gone, eaten up, swallowed whole...It, I cannot
change...But, I can redefine the present,
brandish this rusty, but useable sword and carve
out a future that will look a hell of a lot different
than this blight blackened past on it's last legs...
I have to, for her sake...My precious clinging
vine will wither and spiritually die in this atmosphere,
if I do not get her out of here...And if I don't get her
out of here, then I don't deserve to wish to live,
much less deserve to breathe...
~*~
It's time is nearing...The days drift closer...
The coming of the steel dawn
when the Iron Maiden will arise with platinum
eyes wide open, glaring; from her bed of stakes
blanketed with writhing maggots and snakes...
Nothing left of the soft maiden that once thought,
if you believed in all possibility,
anything could happen,
even miracles...
No speck
of empathy
or remorse for herself,
or anyone else,
save her God given charge
and responsibility...Gifted
into her care, a sweet blessing
heaven did with the Iron Maiden share...
Already the atmosphere chills and hardens
about the hellbred bitch hiding beneathe
the exterior of a softly, smiling face...
But, cool as usual, she must keep her head...Pillowed
by the hiss of vipers on her bed of stakes,
blanketed by maggots and snakes...
To reserve her energy for the fight
ahead to leave the past
and enter the future,
no longer
the walking
dead...
~*~
la-dee-dah, rah-dee-dah, not sure if those are poems, sistah,
or just ramblement from a head that's braindead...LOL...as it's two-ish in the a.m., where i am...so, off to bed, to dream
of days to come and be.....nirzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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Post by wistfuldragon on May 19, 2007 15:44:50 GMT -6
Yes my friend...we could ride anywhere you like...though I'd wager I'd get dragonet from dumpin us...lol...though the image of male nurses does appeal...lol...no hospitals....
I love readding your poems for the shear emotion you bring...raw..lovely...
You'll be onto that life you so seek faster than the rest...I know it will go without drama...well...I hope when I do not know for sure...
Mishasalwayshere
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Post by anirbas on May 29, 2007 1:05:34 GMT -6
Yes my friend...we could ride anywhere you like...though I'd wager I'd get dragonet from dumpin us...lol...though the image of male nurses does appeal...lol...no hospitals.... I love readding your poems for the shear emotion you bring...raw..lovely... You'll be onto that life you so seek faster than the rest...I know it will go without drama...well...I hope when I do not know for sure... Mishasalwayshere thanks for loving the reading of my emotional rawness...gigglegiggle...soooooooooooooooooo totally thrilled to be reading you again, me auld partner in crime and crime fighting, depending on the cape we wake up in...hehehehehehehe...A toast! [hands galpal a horn of mead] To us and to better days and better ways, in the days to come and be! ~*~ about, around and through thick and thin, misery and meloncholy... have we danced as friends, you and I... we've tripped the light fantastic pirouetting and stomping the written word to death, or until it reached our liking, individually and collaboratively... put our heads together and conspired on this, that and the other... cursed each other's boyfriends when they act like hellions... blessed each other's boyfriends when they act like angels... rejoiced in the births of our first grandchildren... got a kick out of daring one another to poem, this or that... inspired one another to dare further and higher... picked up the shattered pieces of one another, grabbed the elmer's and glued each other back together... cracked each other up with our antics and caused other's to laugh with us, when we start MishNir dancing across the empty box leaving sentences of pure genius and silliness in our wake... yeppers, we're one heck of a comedy team... we bake the cake and take it, too... not bragging, just writing this poem for you... about, around and through thick and thin, misery and meloncholy... have we danced as friends, you and I... if anything happened, and tomorrow never came... I'd want you to know, cherished are you by me... you rank as one of the select few, able to bring the light to the dark forest of trials and trolls that is me and my life... even if tomorrow comes, as well I fully expect it, too... i still mean it all, as ever and always, I am in your thrall... even as I am ever and always, the Anirbas, back in the day, you first met...Anirbas... the same forwards as I am backwards or sideways...simply Sabrina... and nothing more... |
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 2, 2007 13:36:11 GMT -6
How unfair dear friend that you would lieave me this and send me into a tear fest...you have me at a loss for I've not the words to reply in form...I do know that you have been the best friend I could have asked for...and I thank Great Spirit everyday for leading me to the place I met you...
Now I think I shall scurry to the nearest corner and have a good cry...and a few laughs of our days gone by and the new to come...I love you Lady...always have and always will...
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Post by anirbas on Jun 12, 2007 10:49:12 GMT -6
;D
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 13, 2007 0:18:51 GMT -6
Once upon a time
not so long ago...
I came to a place
of words most beautiful...
Alone...shy...so unsure
my first poem a wee little ditty...
Feeling nervous...anxious...sweaty...
I had a hard time reading the reply...
Yet there on the page...on my screen...
I saw a friend in word not a critic harsh...
First one reply then another
and so on till I came to one...
Whose name reminded me
of a drink I drank in younger days...
With many of the same reactions
from me to ingesting the fiery stuff...
Everclear...choked my throat...
left my eyes to water...spun my head...
So did this new friend with the power
of her sorrows...joys...ups...downs...
In this place of muses...music...magic
I met this delicious wicked woman....
EverNir...she choked my throat...
left my eyes to water...spun my head...
A tasty piece of work was she for me
causing me to smile wicked tight at each reply...
We chatted the night away...the mornings too...
blasting our pain with giggle fits...crazy times I remember...
My mushy side mused hers...she lead me to anguish release...
We both spun new worlds in lengthy epical styles our own...lovely
A connection true was our friendship
one that seemed fated to be for her and me....
We cried...died in our hearts...shared...
seeing each other through those dark moments...
We talked...about hers and mine...the pain...the happiness...
life...deaths...moving...jobs...writing...loves...dreams...nightmares
Lots of long distance phone bills...iming times 10...all the poems
All the games...tag...add a line...etc...you get the point...I hope
She was there for me when my world never stopped falling...
When my greatest fears came to rest in my life...alive...in my face
We were strong...weak...human...woman...
We were friends...sisters...critics...muses...
Then a time came when I couldn't reach out
couldn't touch bases...no alterverse for me...
Somewhere I lost more than a connection
I lost myself...in the bleakness of this so called living...
from there I fought to get back...back home...alterverse
Fleeing the choas...I reached out for her...she found me
Pulled me back through the gateway...lead me home...
So here you find me...much thanks to her...for being the light that continues to guide me homeward...onward...back to myself the writer...
Our...My...Glorious EverNir...Anirbas...Sabrina...as always...for always...my love and friendship most true...soul sister...
*Hugs...Love...Thank you dear one...you wickedly Beautiful woman*
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Post by anirbas on Jun 13, 2007 1:07:16 GMT -6
(((((((((((((((((((((((((((MISHARAE)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))
Now looks who's crying...It's Me...Evernir...Love the analogy to Everclear...Man, that's some nasty strong stuff...Had a sip or two myself of it, back in the day...
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 13, 2007 1:50:30 GMT -6
yes sweets everclear...everNir...hehehehehe....
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Post by anirbas on Jun 13, 2007 9:35:10 GMT -6
I write of swords...
As I know what it feels like
to walk the boards...
More than one plank I've walked
to the edge of, alone...
I write of swords...
As I've been the pit
and the pendulem...
Vacillating back and forth
betwixt and between worlds...
Swish...dark...Swish...light...
Swish...dark...Swish...light...
I write of swords...
As I know what it feels like
to be forced to take up arms
to defend oneself, or a loved one...
I write of swords...Using words...
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jun 15, 2007 11:04:58 GMT -6
I write of swords...
for I know them better
than the soft warmth of skin
They have laid still in my hands
at my need they've met my foes...
I wish for the day when the fight
is done...won...a draw perhaps...or just over...
When these hands wrap round
the soft warmth in skin...taking pleasure...giving the same
With no need to take up arms...I could fall into the arms of love
Would that those arms could hold me safe against the world
I could lay down the swords for one such as that...safe...loved...
A place to be the woman I could be...gentle...smiling...loving..
I could be her for the one love saw fit to send me...send me...
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Post by anirbas on Jul 1, 2007 2:20:05 GMT -6
Hate to burst your bubble, fain fair friend, true and dear...
But, e'en if and when, love sees fit to send a messenger
to croon sweetly the song of acceptance and romance into one's ear...
One must still rely upon none save the steel in one's own spine...
As e'en when loved unconditionally, one still stands alone...
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Post by wistfuldragon on Jul 4, 2007 12:34:23 GMT -6
Yes...dear friend...you are most right...no bubble bursting here...I am aware of this need for steel in spine...
And thank you for seeing it with me the same way...
I adore you with the utmost respect...
wistmish
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Post by anirbas on Jul 4, 2007 21:41:22 GMT -6
the feeling eez mutual...  |
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