A few old pieces of work

[Oldsage]

Was poking around and thought I might hang a few of the better pieces of poetry I've done over the years here. Get enough positive response might even put up some of my old stories.

[Oldsage]

Long and far have I traveled
Over the seas and through the skies
Over hills, plains and forests dark and deep
And even in the vast darkness between the stars

I have no real home
For I am the true wanderer
Stopping only long enough to complete my task
And then I move on, to wander yet again

It is a long and lonely road I travel
With few friends and many enemies
Forever in the darkness
Striving for the light

The burden I carry is heavy
The weight of those who have fallen before me is wearying
Their ghosts scream for vengeance in my mind
And their faces hover before me when I sleep

But I shall not falter
For I am the shield that protects the innocent
And I am the sword that drives back all that is evil
I shall not rest until my task is finished

So come, be you gods, demons or mortals
Pass in peace, or face my undying wrath
And when the battle is over
I shall grieve, and then raise my sword once again

[Oldsage]

There is a place far away,
Where there is no war,
There is no pain,
There is no suffering.
It is a place where all men are kind to one another.
There is plenty for all.
There, one does not grow older, except in wisdom.
It is a place where death cannot enter.
There is no hatred, there is no envy.
The air is always filled with the sound of song and laughter.
And I try to get there every night,
As I lay in my bed, with eyes shut tight.
But it is forever out of my reach.
Try though as I might.
For I know that when day comes I must end my search.
And then I arise and face the light.

[Oldsage]

It is hidden in the darkest recesses of my mind.
A foe both mighty and terrible.
Relentless, ruthless, utterly without mercy, it is my burden to carry.
It screams inside me demanding a release that cannot be given.
It batters the walls and doors of my mind, desperately seeking a way out.
It is a constant fight, it breaches the walls and I rebuild.
It attacks and I defend.
It advances and I push it back.
Back into the depths of my mind, where the light never penetrates.
For I cannot kill, nor destroy it.
Bestial and dangerous as it is.
I cannot, for it is a part of me, and I of it.
And so the battle rages, day in, day out.
I must always win, for I dare not ever lose.

[Oldsage]

A hero stands proud and tall, some cheer him,
others boo him,
and some just look away in disgust.
One is dying and wonders if her children will share her fate.
All is captured in a flash,
an instant frozen for eternity.
Somewhere a siren wails out its lonely call,
announcing to all that death and destruction has visited the city once again.
A father and husband cries,
tears streaming down his face at the thought of what this all portends.

And above it all is the photographer,
stony faced as he tries to believe that this is just another picture.
Like the many thousands he has taken before.
And that it has no more meaning,
than a piece of paper with the picture of a dying mother and her children.
But deep inside he knows the truth.

[Oldsage]

Shattered and torn from end to end, riddled with holes she flies on.
Two engines feathered and streaming smoke,
a third, windmilling and trailing flame.
And one lone engine, laboring to bring them home.

Her guts have been shot up,
her limbs ripped,
her nose broken,
but still onward she flies.

Inside,
her crew lies dead and dying,
a fierce wind howls through her.
Yet still do they stare over their guns,
determined to protect her and doing what they can to bring her home.

The others have all left,
for they cannot stay to protect a cripple.
And now the wolves are gathering.
Will they make it home?

[Oldsage]

I stand on the beach as the sun sets,
the air is still, the fresh salt breeze is at rest for the moment.

But it is merely the calm before the storm.
For the air is filled with energy, and all the creatures are hiding,
for they have more sense than I.

The air has turned thick and soupy,
it is an effort merely to breathe.

The now quietly lapping waves
will soon be crashing down on this very spot
with all the power the sea can muster.

Overhead a lone gull cries once
before heading for safer skies.

And now the fleeting calm is gone,
replaced by a cold cruel wind,
that howls, not with song, but with pain.

The sky is alight with fire
and the waves crash on the sand,
advancing ever closer.
It’s once soothing melody is gone,
ripped away by the fury of the storm,
until even I must run before it.

[Oldsage]

Angels stand righteous in the light
Demons skulk in the dark
Nearly beneath their notice are mere mortals
But we Guardians stand watch in the shadows

One side calls to good hearts with promises of glorious life in the hereafter.
The other tempts with greed and easy spoil.
Each seeking an army to undo the other, never realizing that they are but different reflections of the same thing.
And meanwhile we watch over those who belong to neither the righteous nor the wicked, each an example of imbalance.

Long have the two sides warred for both prestige and the minds of men.
Their hands are covered in the blood of those who have followed and fallen in their causes.
So enwrapped in their own affairs that they do not notice that which hides in the shadows.
Things far older than either and far more deadly seek to claim not just the people but the world.

They would enslave the very things that are being fought over.
But our mother, older and wiser than the others created us to stand guard.
Though human blood may run in our veins
Our souls are shadow
Equal parts darkness and light

We are your neighbors,
Your friends,
Your family.
We walk among you unseen, unheard, unknown, and unnoticed.

When a child cries in terror at the things lurking in the shadows on their wall at night it is we who drive them away.
We strike down the beasts that lurk in the shadows of one’s mind,
The creatures who belong to neither the day nor the night but to the times in between.
And it is we who silently weep as we watch our charges make war by nation, by faith, by family, and by individual.

Now even as our mother sleeps we carry on.
We raise our families, we go to our jobs.
But when no one is watching we slip into the shadows to keep watch.
And it is there we raise our weapons high against all who would threaten our charges.

Not all that stands in the light is good,
Not all the skulks in the dark is evil,
And not all that watches from the shadows means you ill.

[Oldsage]

Thank you for staying with me when I get mad.
Thank you for supporting me when I get sad.
When dark depression looms you are the light that holds it at bay.
When the weight of the world is just too much to bear, you are the shoulders that ease the burden.

You are the vision that opens my eyes,
And the inspiration that opens my mind.
You bring me joy in sorrow,
And hope in chaos.

Thank you for being a rock to hold onto when the waters froth and the winds grow wild.
Thank you for being my guide and savior when I am lost and forgotten.
You are everything I could ever wish for and more,
And I shall stay by your side till the end of days.

[Sabertooth Kitten]

Damn you're good!
I hereby dub thee BARD!

[Oldsage]

My thanks. :) Anything in particular cause that response? Feedback is always welcome.

[Sabertooth Kitten]

My thanks. :) Anything in particular cause that response? Feedback is always welcome.

The one about the WWII bomber caught my attention most.
All of the poems are great. But that one really resonates with me because my grandpa flew B-17's over Germany in WWII.

[Oldsage]

Wow, really? That's neat.

[Crazeyal]

Damn you're good!
I hereby dub thee BARD!
no no... SAGE.. NPC class..

:)


Good work!! Thanks for sharing.

[Oldsage]

Thank you, just glad so far everyone seems to like it, considering throwing some of my stories up here, though I fear most are only partially complete.

[Crazeyal]

One thing tho...

With Guardians in the shadow, you aren't clear enough WHO is telling the tale. Angel, Demon, both? The part where you say:

"Not all that stands in the light is good,
Not all the skulks in the dark is evil,
And not all that watches from the shadows means you ill."

There really isn't enough in the message to make clear WHY you say this. Are the Angels going too far? Are the Demons just trying to get people to break out of restrictions that bind them?

Perhaps a few more paragraphs.

[Evandril]

Do it :)

I enjoyed your poems, highly impressive!

[Oldsage]

One thing tho...

With Guardians in the shadow, you aren't clear enough WHO is telling the tale. Angel, Demon, both? The part where you say:

"Not all that stands in the light is good,
Not all the skulks in the dark is evil,
And not all that watches from the shadows means you ill."

There really isn't enough in the message to make clear WHY you say this. Are the Angels going too far? Are the Demons just trying to get people to break out of restrictions that bind them?

Perhaps a few more paragraphs.

Hmm, that's a good suggestion. I was more thinking of the speaker being one of the Guardians themselves, a group entirely apart from either the angels or demons.

[Crazeyal]

one of the main things I *TRY* to think of while I'm writing, is the perspective of the reader. YOU know the whole story, the writing is how you communicate it.

[Oldsage]

Thanks. Definitely going to have to think about how to do some rewriting work.

[sableagle]

I thought it was pretty clearly from the Guardians' point of view.

I'm not sure why, but I did.

Maybe it's just that stories tend to be told with the narrator as one of The Good Guys (see also Lolita, Das Boot, Enemy At The Gates, The Battle Of Britain et cetera).

[Oldsage]

I had thought the first stanza,

Angels stand righteous in the light
Demons skulk in the dark
Nearly beneath their notice are mere mortals
But we Guardians stand watch in the shadows

Fairly clearly showed the existence of four distinct groups.

[sableagle]

Yeah, that might have been what got me.