Posts Tagged fantasy

ODOP: Questing Time

A very rough draft, but I think it shows promise. Constructive criticism very much appreciated on this one, it’s going to go through a lot of rewrites.

Dolphine, in the act of naming,
received her curse: waking and sleeping,
she’d hear the rush of
the Daffer’s blood in her head

a moody child, and an awkward teen
a strange and foreign weight in her lungs
not even in her sleep free of it
slowed as she was with echoes of hatred

the sage came, came one of those few
days she could work for her keep in the fields
and she left her scythe and ran to him
and pled for the power to clean her head

“Not even — much less — the Daffer’s death
a cure; unless it be by your own hand.
if another takes him first, unlikely thing,
his part in you does conquer you. Take my sword.”

the indignation! the almost-tears!
the words which she scorned them with
and stomped her feet, and swept
from them, and vowed her own pacific quest

travailed caves and dunes and magic things
sacred cups, and wicked waters
she hiked barefoot and supplicant
until in the mountainside she found

spiky ancient letters
confirming her hopes
of a mystic and fleshless solution
that insipid modernity had forgot

that the common folk had forgot
and cast away in tale
that her wise teachers had hid from her
for their own mislead whys

going further, going deeper,
she found the headdress of the sage
and placed it over her own
twin ears, and waited only to find

the pulse of Daffer’s magnified
till hers synced with it, with him —
the lord of darkling hatreds
loathed throughout the countryside

feared through the green country!
raged against even by the sickly,
tattered, twisted remains
of his own soul

love your neighbor as yourself
now, battled in warm soul-spittle,
only dead, dressed in cypress,
beatless and breathless, could she love herself

She sharpened her knife and
went to the sage and
placed a dry kiss on his feet.
He hit her with it, had her sharpen it right.

He taught her how to angle one’s hit,
to roll and dive, and bite one’s lip,
to parry lies with liars (and, worse,
with truthful souls), and how with a string

and a hook to unlock hidden things,
to bite one’s other lip, and kill
to fight by the stars, and track by night…
and sent her forth like a rat to the wheel

and oh it was exciting but foregone
how she brought down his guards with sickness,
put a merely crooked man in his place
after she stabbed him nine times in the chest

and she is gracious now and graceful
and if her mind is like a dry wind
and her heart’s unwarmable
at least her blood is quiet now, and she does sleep

this ends the tale of Dolphine
who, ten years before the death
of the prince, rejected the violence of our sages
but found it again

Oh, yeah, and the names suck; I welcome those suggestions most of all. Copyright 2010 Jobey George.


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ODOP: I Did Not Write This On Drugs

There’s a place in the midway where the moon follows you,
Where the land and the hills won’t stay still but the gods say nothing new,
A untrustworthy realm where quicksilver is the weather,
Where droplets leap golden from streams and the stars all fall together.
Everything glints with harsh purple and gold like the antithesis of a dream
That will either cause your soul to sleep or your mouth to cry and scream.
One subsides on keys there; some are deadly, some are fair;
All taste like the blight of blood but chime in open air.

In that land our enemy Mad Ironarm was born,
And flies back again one day in ten on sullen winds
To steal more globs of magic from his dwindling kin,
And my love, my lissome love, sets out there on the morn…

Copyright 2010 Jobey George. Seriously, do you really want it?

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ODOP: Insignificant Limerick

There once was a boy named Gilgamesh
Who loved to feast on griffin flesh
Dinner tray on his knee
He pushed some towards me
But I demurred that I preferred it fresh.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George

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ODOP: Encounter

(Your family finds the thing with your face cold
When they embrace him at the door.)

Branches overlaid and overlaid, and the moon peeking through,
Make your walk serene as royalty —
Thrown down out of nowhere!
On the path you scrabble,
And reach for your assailant,
And find neither assailant nor path.

Now pain alone illuminates the dark: struggletime.
You protect your pouch, your envelope, your balls.
What does he want?
What is he?
Not a word exchanged, but the longer you wrestle —
The rougher and longer you wrestle —
The more you know.

Faceless in the night, you and your opponent both
With this difference: you are sure that by day you have one.
And if this force at your hands
Could claim the same
Why grapple so fiercely for yours?

You’re groaning and panting, doubled over,
And miss the moment of daybreak, the least of what you’ll miss,
Doomed as you are to walk from the woods
And never again
To see or be seen by another.

Copyright 2010 Jobey George

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