The Poetry Marathon

Under triple suns we wait,

amongst the trees below the mountain.

Under seven skies we meet,

across the savage garden.

Seek the orbs knowledge,

mine the crystals of power.

Bring for the Mystic,

let her summon the power.

Create our daemon,

let it roam at will.

Watch is chase the Orc’s,

watch it kill.

Of magic and metal,

with no true master.

It shall kill all,

it shall be a disaster.

But here we have our Mystic,

with powers unknown.

She’ll banish the creature,

before the future unfolds.

All hail the Mystic of Varmaour.

Plant your feet.

Gauge the distance.

Ready your line and begin to whirl.

Cast!

That look of pure determination shall haunt fish all their meager lives.

What would I give to keep you dear

to live in love with no fear

where would I lie should you fall away

unable to face the coming day

How could I move without your love?

how could I breathe?

When you’re the best part of me.

Cool and calm,

just floating along.

Living effortlessly,

you envy me?

My arms flow with the tide.

I’m just along for the ride,

waving like a tree in the wind.

Underground, below the sea,

anchored for eternity.

I am seagrass.

post for hour 1

Greetings Earthlings

Okay so I am an earthling.

My names Dan.  Nice to meet all of you. I am from Texas but by no means conservative nor republican.

I used to call myself Daniel from Chicago, because that’s my mother’s home town, and still do from time to time.

I enjoy writing but am very gun shy about it.  When I was younger I had poems stolen from me on two separate occasions.  So showing off work is a very difficult process.

However, I am attempting to change that in many ways. I recently applied for a competition to be part of the Disney/ABC writing program. I may or may not get in but that doesn’t really matter.

I have allowed my shyness and mistrust to confine my creativity into a microscopic space. And now I am exploding, the epicenter of my own personal super nova.

I don’t know if my work will be enjoyed. I don’t know how far I must go until that day when I can cash that first check from my creative writing talents.

All I do know is that if I don’t try I’ll live with a regret that’s closer to death than the black plague.   I’ll be haunted, marked, to wander aimlessly from now till eternity.

I’d rather die trying then doing nothing at all.