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Eyes that shone in the moonlight
like diamonds in the rough.
Eyes that have witnessed the passing of time,
eyes that have seen enough.
Its fur as sleek as night itself
Cutting through the air like a blade
tempered for centuries in fire and forge
the swiftest assassin Nature made.
With daggers for teeth and sword-like claws
the creature holds all in fear.
The night must make way for this ferocious beast,
Beware! Balthazar is here!
He prowls the silent streets of night
When all the world has gone to sleep.
But all of sudden, he gets a whiff of scent
and behind stands a Kacheek, ready to leap.
The air hung still and heavy
as the atmosphere was tense.
The Lupe stops and a snarl forms,
pausing to give just one last chance.
"You dare attack me, you little child?
Don't you blame me when this gets wild!"
The Kacheek attacks, arms flailing everywhere.
Balthazar counters, with a bite to ensnare;
the poor little creature backs off in fright
and the Lupe disappears into the night.
Where will he strike next? What will he do?
And Balthazar whispers, "I can see you..."
The Kacheek turns to find no one behind;
"Don't be silly, it's just all in my mind."
Then Balthazar attacks! Out of the gloom
bursts this furry machine of doom.
Claws outstretched and all teeth bared,
the silly Kacheek should never have dared!
A mad growl heralds the Lupe's attack,
the Kacheek parries but is driven back.
It falls to the ground, crying in surrender.
And Balthazar simply walks over the defender.
The Kacheek trembles, eyes still closed,
but it isn't aware that Balthazar has gone.
Returned to his patrol in the darkness
until the first signs of dawn.
In fear and paranoia, glancing around,
the Kacheek, still trembling, makes it home to bed.
This night's sleep plagued by the memories
of the swiftest assassin ever made.
If It Is Spell or Starve, I'm Going Hungry
Words, words fill my head,
My eyes darken, no word in sight,
I am trapped in a maze of time and terror,
I must break free.
My stomach grumbles, letters without combination,
A plus E... no!
B and O, no A in sight,
I must break free.
There it is, at the end of the row,
A plus N plus D,
Two more points to go,
I must break free.
The seconds count down, five... four...
G and U...
X and E...
I must break free.
Three... two... one...
The timer on the screen, the timer in the kitchen,
I am free.
Discovery: A Sonnet
Their eyes are stung with salt,
their hair wind-blown,
The ship Primella's wrecked and ruined crew
Beholds a teeming island yet unknown,
A vision strange and hoped for is made true.
They step upon the sharp and rocky shore,
Out of the dark and storming northern sea,
Into a world long lost to thought and lore,
They set their foreign feet intrepidly.
Explorers blinking at the golden sun,
Which shines a morning light on where they stand,
Their story is new-born and just begun,
They turn to find adventure in the land.
Each one wears a soft and subtle smile,
Shipwrecked on the lost and secret isle.
Cry of the WeeWoo
Misty tendrils roll on by,
They drift in lazy style,
Clinging to the coastal rocks,
And coating all Krawk Isle.
Haunting is the eerie call,
Where fog does drift and twist.
Lingering the tempting cry,
Of what lies in the mist.
WeeWoo! WeeWoo! Is the sound
That tempts the willing ear.
Tiny birds that cry their name,
"WeeWoo! We lurk so near!"
Spectral-like, so soft the sound,
Through bleak mist does it reach.
WeeWoo melody so strange,
On each Krawk Island beach.
On dusk's fall as twilight fades,
In silence you must dwell.
Deaf you stay to roaring waves,
As tide does ebb and swell.
There it comes, so faint at first,
And shivers reach your spine.
"WeeWoo, WeeWoo" through the fog,
A haunting tune, divine.
Through the twirling tendrils peek,
To where the faint light clings.
Glimpse the tiny, calling forms,
And span of WeeWoo wings.
Phantom of the pirate isle,
Who beckons those at sea.
"WeeWoo, WeeWoo, sail safe"
So seems the dulcet plea.
Sirens hidden in the dusk,
So rare for all to view.
Yet it comes at every dusk,
The haunting cry, "WeeWoo."
The Usual Tyrannian Concert
Running through the Concert Hall,
Ready for a jam.
Hearing a few drums call,
"Bam bam, bam baaam!"
Musical notes hit your ears,
Blasting their only drum.
You feel like breaking into tears,
As those ears go numb.
But wait, what a great tune!
Someone plucking at the bass.
Songs reaching up toward the moon;
Come on, guys, we need more space!
Saxophones screeching loud;
The piano takes a few hits.
Cheering everywhere in the crowd,
With everybody throwing fits!
The lead guitar plays rock and roll,
Playing with lots of craze.
Taking away the stage he stole,
Leaving everyone in a daze.
Screaming fans are everywhere,
Everyone fainting to a fall.
Moments like this are not so rare,
When in Tyrannia's Concert Hall!
Total Poetry Pages : 1961
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