Monthly Archives: May 2013

Pack Alpha

Fangs elongated as he drinks
In the air with flared nostrils,
The scent of prey arouses:
His blood … his hunger … his lust

He saunters in her direction,
All around her dulls, she beckons
The air moves to let him stalk:
Her blood … her hunger … her lust

A wolf hunting under the moon
Stars don’t cast her reflection,
Too pure to understand the danger:
His blood … his hunger … his lust

Her attar teases his claws held.
With juvenile naivety he strikes,
Too late he sees truth in a look:
Her blood … her hunger … her lust

She mocks his blind attack,
The wolf recoils within his skin.
Too strong for him, she isn’t prey:
His blood … her hunger … their lust

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Posted by on Wednesday 22nd May, 2013 in Poetry


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The Shape of Sadness

The room is her temple’s abyss,
Darkness swallows the light’s edge
As she kneels to her melancholy,
Alone; except for afflicted thoughts.

A dagger before her eyes
Piercing the fog’s ashen veil,
No hand to hold it steady,
Yet crimson tears stain the blade

Dull … pain … aches … for her
To open eyes blind to see;
The path ahead is hers
To forge … to wield … her will

Each beat of the heart,
Every breath held not taken,
All hope abandoned; Sadness
Cuts a timid and lonely shape


Posted by on Tuesday 21st May, 2013 in Poetry, Stories of Sadness


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This poem was written as the prologue for the second chapter of a fantasy story I am writing. It follows on from the first poem (Torpor), which is also chapter one in the story (reading the poem Torpor will give you a more complete picture of the poem). Enjoy.

In the wake of the wolves brash raid
The cub has to travel towards his truth.
His path mires the deeper he wades
Leading towards the end of youth.

Dawn raises more vacillant questions;
Swallowing dust, his words silent and dry,
Yet inside the mind bays frustrations.
Run or return home: what is the lie …

Blind in the darkness, he watches not his feet
Arriving at a cross road, which will he greet …

Read the story here

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Posted by on Monday 13th May, 2013 in Creative Writing, Poetry, The Struggle Within


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Chapter Two: Verity (Part I) ~First Draft~

Continued from Chapter One (Part IV) and Poetry Prologue (Verity)

Despite the broken night’s sleep and the unfolding of the disturbing events Ash woke just before dawn, as was usual. His thoughts felt as if he was wading through mud, in vain trying to catch pigs. Curiosity however managed to emerge from the mirth and he couldn’t help but satisfy his desire to explore the remains of John’s house and to find out more about the raiders, from anyone willing to speak of them. However Aunt, aware of his curious mind, pursued him into his chores and intently monitored his movements throughout the morning to ensure he was kept busy with work to do. The torrents of work played some part in Ash not realising that his father had been absent all morning, not that Carel is keen for him to get onto his chores and eager to keep to him busy. Carel is the Lord’s messenger and Ash assumes that he has gone to the Lord regarding last nights raids. Not to tell the Lord about the events, but to ensure that Carel delivers a message to the higher lord of their region informing them of the situation.

Carel arrives back home around lunch time. As usual all the family have worked hard on the land since dawn. Hands blackened by the dark soil, clothes torn and stained by animal movements. Carel however stands before them. Clean clothes of a finer cloth than any of them possess. His hands only slightly stained with ink used to write messages. Ash is instantly aware that Carel is to embark on a trip to deliver a message. Ash is use to such journeys, and sadly doesn’t miss his father on such trips from home.

Surprisingly Carel informs them Ash will also travel with him on this journey, as he rarely travels with Carel and when he does it isn’t that pleasant for either of them, although Ash is enchanted with the new faces and places. Ash and his father have an odd relationship. Carel has struggled to cope with Ash sine the death of his wife. Ash is unsure of why Carel is like this and wonders often what life would be like now with his mother around. However chores and a busy lifestyle don’t let him wonder too often of this. However now his father was taking him back to his birth place and where his mother died. Carel talks so rarely of his wife, and even less of their life before Black Meadow.

Continues to Part II

Ersnon Glossary

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Posted by on Monday 13th May, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within


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Chantou’s Whisper

Originally started writing this as a ballad, but is has evolved over time. I still think there is more to do before this poem is finalised, but thought I would share where I currently at with it. Enjoy!

Born to dearth, a life with no guarantee
Innocence lost to others selfish desires
Brought to a life unjust and harsh,
Bought in life by demons in disguise

Love to be foreign forever, living to service lust
Night after night, working tirelessly
Only pubescent sapling, yet
Earning her keep to have a life

The economic beat devours her,
She supplies her demand
A young body no more a flower
Wilted petals, she lays asunder

Her cries ignored, tears dry
Money is her prison, but
She is not greedy
Fear controls her every deed

When there is no where to run
No darkness black enough to hide
Demons flash golden smiles
Her escape lost as we sit silent

The dawn falls behind closed doors
Sleep is final, as it creeps
A final word, no more than a whisper
“Who cared about me?”

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Posted by on Sunday 12th May, 2013 in Poetry


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Chapter One: Torpor (Part IV) ~First Draft~

Continued from Part III

He broached the subject with his father, uncle and aunt later as they sat around the hearth trying to warm up after being out in the cold. The children slept, largely unaware of the night events other than that they had had to bunk down with the animals for a bit. When the subject was raised, it was aunt who answered. “You may say that now but wait until you have a family of your own. Before my family I too only thought about myself and what great things I would change. However with my family I realised that what was important to me suddenly had changed. My dreams of grandeur and being my own woman changed. My family were all that mattered, and their safety was paramount over all other.”

“But surely you would want to save another from such misery to lose their family” Ash questioned.

“Dear boy, you are but too young to understand the love and protection one feels towards a family of your own. To interfere with another is unbecoming and unnecessary. You will learn this all when you are a man and have your own family” Uncle calmly and indignantly explained.

“No, I think no matter I will be brave and defend those that need help”

“Bravery can be measured many different ways. Who are you to decide what is brave? What bravery have you accomplished in your life to define bravery? I have kept you and my family safe. If I had foolishly gone to defend poor John I could be dead, leaving my family without a man about the house … can you imagine the life that then would have become my family and you?”

Carel was about to object to not being considered a man by Uncle, however he stuttered before keeping quiet. Ash noted the gesture and wasn’t surprised that his father hadn’t objected. Did even Carel question his courage and strength, or was it simply that Carel hadn’t wanted to detract from Uncle’s statement.

Ash understood he had over stood the mark. He was too young to understand his uncles retort and exactly why his uncle was so angry with him now. All Ash knew was that he would not run, he would stand and fight, maybe.

Continues to Chapter Two

Ersnon Glossary


Posted by on Sunday 12th May, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within


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Chapter One: Torpor (Part III) ~First Draft~

Continued from Part II

Ash’s uncle waited a few moments to ensure the horsemen had disappeared before emerging from behind the safety of his door.  His father cowardly followed his uncle out onto the path.  Ash with false bravado strode behind both of them, with the eagerness of youth however silently aware of his ineptness, he stayed behind his father.  They approached John where he laid.  Ash became aware that other villagers were now emerging from behind closed doors.  It was evident to Ash that the fear of standing up to the horsemen was not restricted to his family.  The village had grown into farmers and lacked any will to engage in any activities that would risk their lives.  Ash had mixed emotions:  he could not imagine standing by as his cousins or friends were taken before him without lifting a hand, if he was an adult that was.  His father had trembled through the whole event, it was obvious that he held no fear for others, but only himself.  Ash hoped that his father would have shown more backbone if it had been his life in the balance (on the back of the horsemen’s saddle).

Upon reaching John’s slumped body horse’s hooves could be heard coming from the opposite direction that the horsemen had disappeared too.  There was fear and hesitation from the villagers.  Unsure if it was the horsemen returning or the arrival finally of the guards.  It was the later.  The guards rode in with their shining armour and swords drawn. They appeared with all the bravado of men ready to fight.  Each however glad that only villagers remained.  “What took you so long?” uncle brazenly questioned the guards.

“It was a cold night and we were not expecting any such raid by the Járn” The head guard replied between yawns.

“They went that way” Uncle politely pointed out the direction that the Járn raiders had disappeared too.

“We dare not follow in such a dark night.  We also can not leave you unguarded after such events”

John had come to during the discussion after be awoken by other villagers, who now supported his weight.  “My daughter and wife were taken.  I have sown and harvested the Lord’s fields for many cycles now.  The least you can do is follow them.” He pleaded.

“The Lord is thankful for you labours however we are responsible for all the Lord’s people.  We must stand by our people and protect them.  We will be able to go after your women come the time we are sure all the village is secure.”

“Cowards … “ John muttered under his breath.  The guards pretended not to hear him, preferring to end the discussions and undertake drills to reassure the village that they were protecting them.  However it was known throughout the village that the Járn only undertook quick raids of towns.  Their objective to grab a few slaves and be on their way.  They would ride far in the night and all knew John would never see his wife or daughter again.  The Járn were ruthless riders and the guards who could not match their horsemen ship and had even less capabilities to match their courage and fighting abilities.

John collapsed to the muddied path.  Accepting the fate that bestowed his wife and daughter.  A life of being a slave to the Járn until the end of their days.  Aunt now approached John and escorted him back to our house.  Ash stood in the middle of the path.  Deep in thought.  The men of the village had seemingly already forgotten the nights events.  Their sole purpose now concentrated on putting out the fire that burned John’s house.  The concern was not saving John’s house but stopping the fire from spreading to any other houses.

Ash realised at this moment that when he was an adult he would not stand idly bye and let his fellow villagers be victims such as John.  He would act when the time arose not wait for the danger to pass, ensuring that he was safe.

Continues to Part IV

Ersnon Glossary


Posted by on Wednesday 8th May, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within


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