This is my mother's favorite of my short stories. I have actually made into a series and should be adding the other stories to my page soon.
Faeries are like butterflies, with their pretty wings, so I thought why don't they go through chrysalis? Of course that lead to the thought of fae larvae. Ewwww.
Spirit magic is, if you ask me, the most powerful. I wrote this so very long ago too.
Not really sure where I'm going with this piece. I just got this image of coming upon an elf and the elf going gracefully off the side of the roof. After I wrote it, I realized it sounds like an intro to something. But I haven't decided what the elf was doing on top of the roof and what is so special about the knife, so I'm at a loss for continuing the plot.
A poor wounded goblin. There is bit of the idea of a Greek messenger and a bit of the idea of natives being pushed off their lands in this poem. I tried to match the meter with the staggering pace of the goblin. It still needs a little tinkering but I'm happy with it for now.
I had a thought that seeing the future would be a difficult talent to live with, because how would you know when the events you saw were going to happen? So all that waiting would be hard on one's mind. Even more so if you were a female in a society that didn't allow for females to do much in...
I tried sleeping one night and for some reason this one grabbed on to me and would not let go until I wrote it out. It has a lot of nice folktale qualities, brothers, the cat, and an old woman by the side of the road.
This is one of a two part set. They are about the ravens of Odin, the head Nordic god. This one is in honor of Mugin, the raven of Thought.
I had this idea for a long time before managing to commit it to paper. I wanted the verse to sound medivial without the bouncing ryhme and meter common in that time periods writing. I don't think it's quite done yet; this is a rough draft I suppose you could say. It's about love, loss, and spirits.
This is actually an older piece that I refound in an old writing folder. It started out as trying to show passage of time by alternating between spring and winter. I ended up really liking the last paragraph since it kept the ending vague.
So this is the new version with changed ending. I am much happier with it. Chess is a game that has always fascinated me. My father had offered the kids in my family $20 to whomever could beat him at it. He has yet to pay anyone.
Behind my childhood home is a park. And in the park is a tree that was picked out for each member of my family. Mine is this pretty olive tree. And no, I never grew taller than my tree.
This is for Dan Shevock for his comments, sorry your poem is so long in coming. I noticed your dog in your bio photo is named Zorya, so this is a poem about that Slavic myth. I picked the Morning Star to write about. Its a little Valkyrie in tone, with a bit of rhyme to echo your nice musical style. The line in the middle is according to Wikipedia how a prayer to a goddess of horses and battle started.
This started with the idea of the world shaking when you touch someone you love. I suddenly thought, what if it wasn't really shaking but just a spaceship docking at the space station you both were on. I know the idea of some rebels and someone, like a king or an emperor, for them to rebel against isn't that original an idea but it worked for the piece. Anyway, read and enjoy.
Bums who get lucky and come into some money are not unusual I suppose. But djinns who get trapped in liquor bottles are. Heh.
Though I find those who say they are 'sensitive' and can talk to the dead a bit off, the idea that an emotional imprint is left behind after something terrible occurs seems possible to me. Quite a number of tales of supernatural encounters have spirits reliving their demise annually and this is one of those.
This is one of a two poem set. They are about the ravens of Odin, the father god in Nordic mythology. This one is in honor of Munin, or the raven of Memory.
Poor Imp. He puts up with these human things dropping into his house. No wonder he bought it so cheap. This is the second in a series I'm working on.
Snakes in many cultures aren't considered evil. In fact, they are symbols of wisdom and knowledge. And I have always been fascinated by voodoo. I tried to make this sound realistic; I have read a bit about the rites and practices. And seeing the future is one of the things I'd be most interested in given such powers.
Well a storm cloud of ravens who take people's souls is scary. Unless you're undead and have no soul. If you look around my gallery you'll see I kind of have a thing with ravens; must have been all the Nordic mythology as a child.
Working on writing about magic. Apparently in this tribe some sort of tribute is expected when the chief's son and heir to the ruling position is born. And the tribe's shaman better give something especially nice.
So not every young high school girl who runs into the undead is a Buffy. But sometimes there is still romance. My only other comment on this poem is ewww zombie hands grabbing you. Edit: this has been updated taking into account the comments I've gotten up until 12-5-05. And now it rhymes!
The sea is a lady, and a jealous one at that. I'm sure there is some moral here about treating women good and greed being bad. And it didn't turn out too bad for a poem that is enslaved by ryhme. (I hate ryhmes; I really prefer to write poems without them)
If you go with the bestial idea of dragons(versus the intelligent magic user idea), then they'd probably hibernate. This is an ice dragon waking up from its seasonal slumber. I tried to tie some of the lines together with alliteration and assonance, as well as a repeating phrase.