Cecil’s Nindo

Walking through a meadow
With weapons in her hands
She’s searching for the one,
The criminal who fled.

He took her loved ones lives
He cut into their hearts
He laughed as they all fell,
And so he marked his death.

Training in the shadows
At last she hones her skills
She strives to grow stronger,
To be a lethal girl
And find the bloody fiend.

The darkness is her home
It’s taught her how to live
And strengthened her redolve-
He will take his last breath.

So when the monsters dead
What will this woman do?
Within the shrouds she’ll live
And help the others grow.

Beware this woman’s wrath
Devours it does all
Because she’ll lose control
When loved one’s are injured.

If calm you should find her
Know that her wrath does sleep,
That with her loved one’s screams
It’ll wake to ravage all.

Those born within the shroud
Are safe from her dark heart.
Those loyal to the shroud
She’ll fight to keep them safe.

9 a.m.

your eyes, your smile,

your endless chatter

that sounds like bird song

my child.

A Small Irish Iliad

Naoise tied a red string in her hair

And whispered her name.

Deirdre, with the voice of the forest;

Deirdre, with the litheness of the sparrow;

Deirdre, with the song of the three rivers;

May the music of your body beat

To the rhythm of those who came before us.

May our love, even in death, grow.

#4 Good Morning

“Good Morning” I Chirp
As I walk into work
“Is it?” you ask

To be honest
The answer is “No”
I would rather be on my Treasure Island
Where soft moonlight falls on me
After hours of toiling at your sweatshop

No Newbs Please, We’re SF

You can’t say sci-fi
If you want us to take you
Seriously

Don’t use time travel
Post-modern SF holds it
Unrealistic

Any fool can write,
But science fiction is a
Highly refined art


Prompt: Genre poetry
Form: Linked haikus

 

 

#4 – The secret in your bag

Creature_20140610121148You got the secret in your bag

Your bag is in the middle of the road

Exactly in the middle of the crossroad

There is no cat in your bag

But nobody knows it

Nobody knows

The secret is in your bag

 

The secret of the cell division

Happening just there

In your bag of cells

The secret is in your bag

Don’t forget it too long

Just there on the crossroad

It will be crashed down

 

You don’t want to lose

The secret in your bag

The secret is nothing

But nobody knows

But you

That the secret that is nothing

Is in your bag in danger

 

Come on take it with you now

The secret in your bag

Will soon change your life

For the baggy secret

That you reward yourself with

Will be soon the best of your life

Listen to me Son don’t be fool

 

Your bag is in the middle of the road

Exactly in the middle of the crossroad

There is no cat in your bag

But nobody knows it

Nobody knows

The secret is in your bag

Scar (4)

While the bees buzzed and the trees sighed,
I was not yet created.
You were only ten
Moving in unknown terrain
Seeking their attention
Desperate to belong.

I was poised at the end of the tree thorn
Waiting to bestow upon your brow
The kiss of pain and blood
That will mark you for the rest of your life
Reminding you that you do
Not need their acceptance.

I, birthed by flesh torn without feeling or sound.
When you emerged from the forest with your prize
Crimson rivers along your nose
Comrades running to your aid, to
Repair the tear rent in the
Tapestry of your face.

I am still here, pale and shiny with age
A reminder of a time
When you sought approval from those
Unworthy of your presence.
I am here reminding you to
Approve of yourself.

#4

This is not a love poem to a person.
I have left many of them behind, and
none of them have chosen to stowaway
in my heart or mind or otherwise to be remembered.

This is not a love poem to the home
I left behind, with its noise of televisions
and radios and all that constant…
This is not a rant.

This isn’t even a letter, for it is not
meant to be sent, or read,
as the recipient would have no eyes.

This is a monologue of a
loner who is not lonely, but perhaps…
nostalgic, of the colours
left behind, in the third planet,
as we belong now to the red.

Inspired by the writing prompt, written having Mars One project in mind.