Poetry Portfolio I

A Selection of Poems
Written: 2007
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CLIFFSIDE

The tiger's growl fades as it returns to its lair
The pages of a book are lost in swirling air
to Chaos; O'er the brink it lies
Stretching on through azure skies

The tide rolls in and out
Forever to eternity

Shadows herald coming change
air of water, sea of gas
no edges only transitions
from which time is not exempt
from Death for all things end
in other places that aren't here.

The tide rolls in and out
Forever to eternity.

On the other side things are alive
But behind me lies the drive
From it can cannot escape
I'll leave the cliffside and the cape

The tide rolls in and out

Forever

To eternity

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AZURE

The most perfect sapphire in the land
Broken open o'er and o'er
Each time reaching new perfection
Then polished for eons
Scattered brains may hide but never mar it.
The light of sun and stars shines through it.
Engines burn across it yet it heals
It takes your breath; it takes your life
And gives it back in time
Sparkling with new colour when its done.

Is it any question where the gods dwell?

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THE SCYTHER'S SONG


"We are born to die. Men are the dogs of the gods. Through their svbtle prodding, thovsands of vs march for miles across vnknown lands for the sole pvrpose of bringing death to those we hardly know. But we do not fight this, for the gods in their graciovsness have vshered vs towards ovr noble foe, and so we give thanks to Lord Mars and Jvpiter most high for this. I swear by the blood of my kin that by eve tomorrow Hannibal's lifesblood shall be spent on these sands."
-from the last writings of Laurentius of Renwick, 204 B.C.

Broken.
Trampled, yea, ground into the very dust
The blood of foe slipping down your hair
The blood of friend dashed across your face
Meeting, mixing, mingling
When Flavius died, was it like this?
Arrow to the brain.
There.
Gone.
No lingering.
Why dost thou cling, Laurentius?
No chirugeon can mend an elephant's crush
No hawk-eyed friend can find your missing arm
For you have none.
I see your eyes flicker
And I know you hear
the screaming
the bellowing
the hacking
the howling
the dying.
There is nothing left here.
Zama is a wasteland
You remember in Rome
When you heard of Cannae
and Flavius.
You didn't quite believe it.
You never really did.
Is it vengeance that holds you to this world?
You remember Renwick
Holding your mother's corpse
in your cold hands
You were too late then.
You'll never be too late again.
Come with me, Laurentius
Forsake this field of woe.

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THE LAY OF FERELMAR

In ages past, when grass was green
When the sky was clear and people sang
of Heroes
In days gone by when men had honour
When the truth was valued
And you could ride across the land without a fear
When the sea was green and the air was clean
In this time, this eon
Dwelt Ferelmar the Horseman.
He was a tall man, a proud man
The fairest, save for the Death
That smoldered in his hungry eyes.
His horse was Buri, black as night
Swiftest in the realm.
He could outrun anything
Save the spearcast from his master's hand.

One day Ferelmar was riding on the moor
When he met a wand'ring bard
"Hero!" cried the singer, "Wherefore goest thou armed
In this happy fertile land?"
"In Eden," quoth the horseman, "Dwelt the Serpent.
Perfection is but a fancy of the mind."
Straight were his words, but yet foretelling
For by day' end the bard had been attacked by bandits
And carried away.

But Ferelmar was still near
And he heard the ruffians.
At dawn's break he found their trail.
Buri raced over hill and dale, glen and fen,
Until he reached the secret lair.

The bandit's slept, save for a guard
Who soon slept eternal, spear through his heart.
Ferelmar knew the arts of stealth
But no creature can lie sleeping when blood runs on the sand.
Even as the Horseman loosed the bonds
The bandits awoke.
His spear cast, the Horseman
Stabbed and slashed with sword
Driving back his enemy.
Nineteen of them fell slain in the first rush.
They came again
And this time
A full score fell cloven
With the horseman yet un-scarred.
Hero and Bard reached Buri
Who galloped away
Swifter than the Sun
Back to Bardshome.
And Ferelmar rode off, with horse and spear
Ever Westward, as he always did.
And the Bard remained
To sing his tale to all.