Category: Fantasy

NaPoWriMo Day 29

On By WinstonIn Books, Dark / Gothic, Fantasy, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Pop Culture, Warfare, Warhammer 40kLeave a comment

It’s the twenty-ninth today and I’m starting to run out of ideas. Then as I was drawing the image in the previous post, I decided to do a poem set in the Warhammer 40k universe. I understand completely if most don’t care for it, it’s a bit more “niche” than most of what I write. Enjoy!

For the Emperor!

With hammer and with bolter, with,

The flamer and the blade,

The foes of Holy Terra shall,

Regret the choice they made.

From hordes of orks and heretics,

And xenos filth and worse,

We will defend the Empire from,

The voidborn demon’s curse.

The Emperor of Man has sat,

One thousand years and more,

Undying and yet dying still,

From traitor’s wound of yore.

Dishonour not his sacrifice,

Forever his name bless,

Although we are but mortal men,

We cannot offer less,

I understand, though I will fall,

And millions more as well,

We are still all that stand between,

The worlds of man and hell.

Now cleanse your soul and hold the line,

There is no other way,

The Emperor is watching us,

Will know our deeds this day,

Cheers,

NaPoWriMo Day 6

On By WinstonIn Embrace the Wild, Enlightenment, Fantasy, Loving Life, music, my blessed life, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Now for something completely different. Well at least different from the tone so far this month. Today’s offering is a little more in tune with what I’ve written in years past. As I used to do, I just started writing and let the energy of the words decide the rest. Enjoy!

Natural Healing For A Weary Soul

I looked out of my window and,

Saw sitting in the tree,

A little songbird singing there,

And looking back at me.

It sang the sweetest song I’ve heard,

Each note so clear and pure,

So unprepared to hear such truth,

How could my heart endure?

Yet still it sang and spellbound I,

Sat rapt within that song,

And though I sat my soul swept forth,

And gaily danced along.

How long it sang I could not say,

Then I awoke renewed,

My every fibre filled with love,

Soft light in all I viewed.

I do not claim to understand,

That songbird’s magic gift,

When problems come I hear that tune,

And feel my soul lift.

A blessing on that little bird,

Who blessed my weary heart,

And showed me there is always hope,

Each day a brand new start.

Cheers,

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 28

On By WinstonIn Fantasy, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Poetry, NaPoWriMo, Old Gods and Magic Folk, Poetry, The Old WaysLeave a comment

Tonight’s poem is this year’s official entry where I speak to the poet in my head and say, “I’ve got nothin’. Go write it without me.” This is what happens when I let these things write themselves.

Poem Write Thyself

The elder Gods, the ancient ones,

The ones we would deny.

The elder Laws, the ancient ones,

The ones we would defy.

We who now walk where legends strode,

With our diminished stride.

Pretend we are the pinnacle,

Yet know the truth inside.

The elder Gods, the ancient ones,

Forgotten not unmade.

Technology and med’cine now,

The ones we call for aid.

The elder laws, the ancient ones,

We flaunt and wonder why.

We have no blessings, find no peace,

And bitter tears we cry.

The rules were so clear back then,

Those were much simpler days.

The elder laws, the elder Gods,

All understood their ways.

We tell ourselves that times have changed,

That’s our excuse for all.

But when our need is at it’s worst,

It’s them we seek to call.

We call them by a different name,

Than what they used to know.

But they still recognize the tone,

Though we have wronged them so.

So now and then, our broken prayers,

An ancient God will find.

And they may grant our desperate wish,

But not ’cause they are kind.

There is a price that we must pay,

If their aid we would seek.

The ancient laws are very clear,

Their terms often quite bleak,

The elder Gods obey the laws,

Which most men have forgot.

Their aid is earned or bargained for,

But never can be bought.

So when our science and our skill,

Fall short of greatest need.

We may invoke the elder Gods,

The law says if we bleed.

For it is long since sacrifice,

Was offered for their fame.

And blood will buy forgiveness for,

Forgetting any name.

If you would seek the aid of them,

Beware the price you pay.

For elder Gods and elder laws,

Take blood the elder way.

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 18

On By WinstonIn Fairy Poem, Fantasy, NaPoWriMo, Old Gods and Magic Folk, Poetry, The Old WaysLeave a comment

A little nod to my pagan friends. Enjoy!

Elder Gods and Magic Folk

Quite long ago, and longer still,

Before the world we know.

When mountains were the realm of Gods,

The Underworld below.

When fishermen threw back their best,

To make the storm abate.

And all knew there were magic folk,

Both terrible and great.

Then all the Gods and all the fae,

Would meddle constantly.

So we would sacrifice and pray,

And hope they’d hear our plea.

But slowly then and slowly still,

The old ways fade away.

But Gods and ancient magics dwell,

Still in the world today.

Religions tried to banish them,

Then scientists did too.

But ancient ones still find a way,

Despite all they would do.

Now croon the elder hymns to them,

Walk with a slower tread.

You can’t go wrong by leaving out,

A little milk and bread.

Sure science says there is no way,

For magic to be real.

The laws of physics not something,

Some old Gods can repeal.

Yet never has a dying man,

Called Einstein to his aid.

Nor asked to see a scientist,

Damnation to evade.

Old God’s and magic folk abound,

So old and older still.

They’ve always shared this world with us,

No doubt they always will.

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo 2021 Day 6

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Fantasy, Ghost Stories, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Now for something completely different!

Sometimes, I just start writing with no real idea of where it’s going or what the narrative is going to be. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, like this time for example, it takes itself in some truly unforseen directions.

The Ghost Writer

I swore that I would never write,

Again about some ghost.

But there she is and here am I,

Set to compose this post.

You see the spirits know me well,

For some tales I have told.

Find here a sympathetic voice,

For secrets which they hold.

Now those who can will seek me out,

Who cannot send me word.

Some medium or psychic calls,

For one who would be heard.

A young girl sits before me now,

A soft and misty shade.

She gazes at the floor and tugs,

Her faint, translucent braid.

“How can I help?” I ask at length,

Expecting no reply.

“You cannot help for I am dead.”

Her words soft as a sigh.

“Indeed you are, I must agree,

But still you sought me out.”

“To travel here’s no easy thing,

And cost you dear no doubt.”

From out the corner of her eye,

I see her glance at me.

“What would you know of what it cost?

I’ve paid no ticket fee.”

“Your trainfare’s not the price I mean,

a fact you know quite well.”

“For once you leave your place on earth,

You’re one short step from Hell.”

She looks up now and meets my eye,

A sharp and piercing look.

“You are the one. You did not learn,

That fact from any book.”

“There is a book on yonder shelf,

Just left of where you sit.”

“It’s boring true, but truth contains,

If you but dig a bit.”

She glances at the book and smiles,

Then back to me again.

“I see your name upon the spine,

It comes form your own pen.”

“I did not say I did not write,

The truth within that book.”

“But only that you’d find it there,

If you but chose to look.”

Quite suddenly her face is there,

Mere inches from my own.

The malice flows from her in waves,

It chills me to the bone.

“How came you by this knowledge rare?”

“Think well before you speak.”

“For I am not some simple haunt,”

“Some tired thing and weak.”

I meet her gaze, pick up my glass,

Of whiskey take a sip.

I know her then some guardian,

Whom I once gave the slip.

“You’ve got it wrong oh little spawn.”

“You’ve got no claim on me.”

“Your boss is just upset he lost,”

“A little bet you see.”

Black tendrils stream from tattered frock,

Skin black and peeling flakes.

Her hair a mass of roiling smoke,

With eyes like fiery lakes.

The tendrils now coil round my limbs,

Clawed hands on throat so tight.

“Once body’s dead your soul is mine,”

“You’re coming back tonight.”

I feel them come, the ragged souls,

The spirits I have saved.

By coming now to face it’s wrath,

What perils they have braved.

Not one of them is anywhere,

So strong as what they face.

But they are many it is one,

This hoard my secret ace.

The hands upon my throat grow weak,

A gesture stills the throng.

“You thought to take me back with you.”

“See now you were so wrong.”

“A message now I give to you,”

“To take in place of me.”

“Keep what is yours, leave me to mine,”

“Or war there’ll surely be.”

Dark angel gone, my host withdraw,

Once more alone am I.

I sip my whiskey in the dusk,

And write this verse and sigh.

The spirits that I help are those,

With nowhere else to be.

I once was there, where they are now,

Then someone rescued me.

Now those unworthy and unloved,

I do my best to aid.

With kindness, patience and some love,

Help them feel less afraid.

Not gods nor devils cared for them,

Until I freed them all.

Now both sides claim them for their own,

Demand I heed their call.

My spirits are the common folk,

And common lives they’ve had.

Though good folk not so saintly and,

Though sinners not so bad.

Not good enough for heaven nor,

The type to go to hell.

The gods and devils left them here,

Forgot them for a spell.

And then one day a magus died,

Who’d planned it out ahead.

To answer questions but he had,

No plans for staying dead.

He dodged the devils and the gods,

But couldn’t quite get home.

And spent three hundred years stuck in,

A cave outside of Rome.

Then one fine day, someone came by,

Sweet as the morning dew.

They did the work and raised me up,

To start my life anew.

So now I save my stranded flock,

Free them as I was freed.

Free them from devils and from gods,

From their unending need.

And now and then an angel or,

A devil will stop by.

To take me off to my “reward”,

At least that’s what they try.

But those I’ve helped still have my back,

And I have theirs the same.

We are the only home we want,

And Legion is our name.

Cheers, Winston

Personal Creativity Project

On By WinstonIn Fairy Poem, Fantasy, Personal Creativity Project,, Poetry, Uncategorized3 Comments

Well….. I’ve made it through NaPoWriMo with at least a few brain cells intact. Now that I’ve had a week to recharge the batteries, I’ve decided it’s time to remedy that. I’m going to seque into a new format. Instead of writing a poem every single day, I’m going to try and put up something creative two or three times a week. It may be a poem, or a drawing; a bit of short fiction or an essay on something of interest to me. Whatever it may be, the page will continue…

 

THE OLD WAYS

I take a little bread and milk,

And put it in a bowl.

I leave it for the little folk,

Who live beneath the knoll.

 

It’s best to always care for them,

For then they’ll care for you.

But if you don’t, you cannot guess,

Just what it is they’ll do.

 

If you should be out on the green,

And hear a piping song.

Or someone fiddling merrily,

You must not tarry long.

 

The little folk all love to dance,

They’re merry ’tis no lie.

If they ensnare you with their tunes,

You’ll dance until you die.

 

There is a hole a hidden way,

Which leads beneath the sod.

Where dwell the folk of legend still,

Safe from invading God.

 

I know you’ve heard of treasure there,

Such riches so they say.

But do not try to find that hoard,

I beg you stay away.

 

For all you’ll find is fairy dust,

Which gets into your mind.

‘Til you forget the real world.

Drift off leave all behind.

 

Now in the morning mist I see,

The long grass start to sway.

I know the ancient folk are out,

To start upon their day.

 

So honour them, these folk of yore,

Your offerings prepare.

For though you may not see or hear,

I swear they still are there.

 

The folk of legend, little folk,

Dwell still beneath the hill.

And dance and laugh and sing each night,

I pray they always will.

 

Cheers, Winston

 

 

NaPoWriMo Day 2

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Enlightenment, Fantasy, NaPoWriMo, Personal Responsibility, Poetry, Uncategorized, ValuesLeave a comment

ON GREED

Oh once upon a time a King,

Sat on a Royal Throne.

While at his feet a Royal hound,

Gnawed on a Royal bone.

 

The bone belonged, or so it seemed,

To the late former King.

To normal folk, it’s murder clear,

To them a different thing.

 

Now heavy weighs the new King’s head,

Beneath it’s crown ill-got.

He looks out on his courtiers there,

Can almost hear them plot.

 

He knows for once he plotted there,

Before the late King’s throne.

Imagines he can see the stain,

Of blood upon the stone.

 

The new King knows he may not rest,

Must vigilant remain.

Lest Royal blood, his own this time,

Shall flow free once again.

 

So listen to this tale my friend,

And learn it’s lesson well.

The prize not always worth the price,

‘Til it’s too late to tell.

 

Please reach not for that thing you want,

If it’s not yours to take.

The very truth of who you are,

That is the wagered stake.

 

I thought I was a better man,

Than he who sat here then.

But I have killed to gain this crown,

To keep it killed again.

 

This is not who I meant to be,

Yet now I play this part.

While conscience shrieks and tears it’s hair,

Deep in my darkened heart.

 

This wisdom is the boon I grant,

From my high stolen seat.

While poisons drip and daggers glint,

‘Mongst those with words most sweet.

 

Now that is all I have to share,

My kingly wisdom spent.

Ignore desire and walk away,

Your evil ways repent.

 

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo Day 1

On By WinstonIn Dark / Gothic, Fantasy, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, PoetryLeave a comment

So… it’s April 1st once again and the kick off of National Poetry Month which means the start of the annual poetry writing challenge. The last time I tried this, things came up and I failed to meet my target of one poem per day for the full month. But here we are again and so… Here we go again.

I was thinking about the movies and shows you see where someone finds a book of spells and, lured by the promise of shortcuts to success they decide to try out the spells. Nothing happens of course… until everything goes pear shaped. Often with tentacles. That scenario inspired today’s verse.

A WORD TO THE UNWISE

You found the book, you learned the spells,

Rehearsed each small detail.

Your dedication must ensure,

This summons cannot fail.

A flash of fire, a brimstone stench,

A cloud of greasy smoke.

That’s all you get for your hard work,

Like some sad cosmic joke.

You snuff the candles, kick the book,

Then profane circle break.

With towel try to staunch the blood,

You gave for your lord’s sake.

You tried so hard, believed so strong,

Believed the Lord of Lies,

The only sound, the drip of blood,

And hungry, buzzing flies.

But don’t despair, for something came,

In answer to your call.

A nightmare thought, a dream so dark,

Ten million souls shall fall.

But you won’t care, you won’t be here,

Your sacrifice complete.

Your Dark Lord wears your body now,

Your soul the first he’ll eat.

So think on this before you etch,

That circle on the floor.

The Prince of Lies will lie to you,

Write lies in books of yore.

Now think it through oh foolish one,

Think of the price you’ll pay.

And turn aside from this dark path,

To live for one more day.

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo Day 29

On By WinstonIn Fantasy, Humor, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Psychology, UncategorizedLeave a comment

I think I mentioned last time that things get a little strange once the creativity starts flowing. Well, hopefully I can finish on a slightly more normal note.

 

A Note To My Therapist

A dream perhaps and yet more real,

than I have known before.

How can I know the truth of it,

what’s dream and what is more.

 

In dreams I often tell myself,

“You’re dreaming never fear.”

But what if I am wrong and this,

is false, the dream is here.

 

What if rules and common sense,

are only in my head.

And all the chaos I call dreams,

is really real instead.

 

There’s no answer that I can find,

no way to truly know.

So I’ll just choose the one I like,

and that’s where I will go.

 

So if you come and I have gone,

it’s true I’ve only woke.

It’s you who’s trapped within a dream,

the punchline to my joke.

 

Cheers, Winston

NaPoWriMo Day 28

On By WinstonIn Fantasy, Macabre, NaPoWriMo, Poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Sometimes when I wrench open the creative valve, the weirdest things get washed out.

 

On Ghosthunters

A figure faintly seen at night,

there in the empty place.

If you could gain a closer view,

would you gaze on it’s face?

 

It walks there every night alone,

even when it’s not seen.

Would you it’s solitude invade,

are you in truth that keen?

 

Perhaps its solitude it craves,

just wants its well earned peace.

Not closure for its life on earth,

not waiting on release.

 

Perhaps that place it haunts is home,

where hangs its phantom hat.

And you are mere trespassers there,

Have you considered that?

 

So take your tools and pack  your bags,

go back where you came from.

This haunt is ours and here it stays,

it’s you who’s not welcome.

 

Cheers, Winston