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Post by deuce on Oct 4, 2016 18:30:38 GMT -5
A little something I came up with earlier today. You always wanted me to post something, Bux. Dolmen of the Moon
It looms, as I stand in the shadows' length, Amazed before a cyclopean Door. Immense, it glowers before me in sullen strength. Strong, gigantic, but ages-scarred and hoar.
On the threshold, with sudden pause, I hear a ghostly echo of titanic claws. My soul, whose fears I cannot quell, Bids me kneel down and murmur low Incantations of warding, as I know Therein dark, star-born secrets dwell.
~ F.Wm. von Junzt ~Von Junzt was a poet, according to REH, and that reminds me of something he might have written. He lived around the same time as Poe and I was kinda going for that vibe. That’s a fabulous verse Deuce, and very fitting for something from Von Junzt. I hope we’ll see a fair few more in this vein from your pen. Thanks to you and Buxie both, Von K! I think it could be slightly tweaked, but I guess it turned out OK. It's "fit for purpose", as y'all say in Merry Olde.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 15, 2016 17:14:21 GMT -5
Here's my first attempt at a poem. I hope you enjoy it The Hyrkanian
My ancestors fought against the Vendhyan and the Khitan. The city-dwellers hid behind their walls, now my brothers hide in Turan.
With eyes of the eagle, the cunning of the wolf we roamed freely on the plains. Now, we are civilized merely a tamed dog in chains.
With the eternal sky as our roof, what did we need walls for? We abandoned our yurts to live in the gleaming city of Aghrapur.
We drink the sweetest of wines adorned with the finest of goblets all jewel-encrusted. We once mixed our blood with koumiss making oaths with warriors we trusted.
What is better in life than to strike down your enemies with sword, lance and bow? Not kneeling before the dog-king Yezdigerd, with our heads bowed low.
I will ride east of Turan, beyond the Vilayet to the vastness of my homeland. I will bind the heads of the Yuetshi to my saddle fighting till I no longer stand.
As I wander the steppe there are many adversaries I must face. I know if I am bested in battle I will fight till Erlik's dark embrace.
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Post by buxom9sorceress on Nov 15, 2016 18:42:26 GMT -5
Here's my first attempt at a poem. I hope you enjoy it The Hyrkanian
My ancestors fought against the Vendhyan and the Khitan. The city-dwellers hid behind their walls, now my brothers hide in Turan.
With eyes of the eagle, the cunning of the wolf we roamed freely on the plains. Now, we are civilized merely a tamed dog in chains.
With the eternal sky as our roof, what did we need walls for? We abandoned our yurts to live in the gleaming city of Aghrapur.
We drink the sweetest of wines adorned with the finest of goblets all jewel-encrusted. We once mixed our blood with koumiss making oaths with warriors we trusted.
What is better in life than to strike down your enemies with sword, lance and bow? Not kneeling before the dog-king Yezdigerd, with our heads bowed low.
I will ride east of Turan, beyond the Vilayet to the vastness of my homeland. I will bind the heads of the Yuetshi to my saddle fighting till I no longer stand.
As I wander the steppe there are many adversaries I must face. I know if I am bested in battle I will fight till Erlik's dark embrace.Hi Hun and welcome to the 'Pit of Set' [ or as Kail likes to call it - 'poetry corner' ] Tis a good poem, good rhyming, and an impressive first poem. And it is packed with Howardian-Conan lore, which makes it much more interesting for us keen REH fans. Well done. Thanks for sharing your work. I look forward to more new poetry from your 'Hyrkanian quill', please? ==== [ i will meet you on the wild border: i will be laid inside the big fancy yurt on big wheels; there are plenty of cushions and furs inside for our comfort...]
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Post by Deleted on Nov 15, 2016 20:23:15 GMT -5
Here's my first attempt at a poem. I hope you enjoy it The Hyrkanian
My ancestors fought against the Vendhyan and the Khitan. The city-dwellers hid behind their walls, now my brothers hide in Turan.
With eyes of the eagle, the cunning of the wolf we roamed freely on the plains. Now, we are civilized merely a tamed dog in chains.
With the eternal sky as our roof, what did we need walls for? We abandoned our yurts to live in the gleaming city of Aghrapur.
We drink the sweetest of wines adorned with the finest of goblets all jewel-encrusted. We once mixed our blood with koumiss making oaths with warriors we trusted.
What is better in life than to strike down your enemies with sword, lance and bow? Not kneeling before the dog-king Yezdigerd, with our heads bowed low.
I will ride east of Turan, beyond the Vilayet to the vastness of my homeland. I will bind the heads of the Yuetshi to my saddle fighting till I no longer stand.
As I wander the steppe there are many adversaries I must face. I know if I am bested in battle I will fight till Erlik's dark embrace.Hi Hun and welcome to the 'Pit of Set' [ or as Kail likes to call it - 'poetry corner' ] Tis a good poem, good rhyming, and an impressive first poem. And it is packed with Howardian-Conan lore, which makes it much more interesting for us keen REH fans. Well done. Thanks for sharing your work. I look forward to more new poetry from your 'Hyrkanian quill', please? ==== [ i will meet you on the wild border: i will be laid inside the big fancy yurt on big wheels; there are plenty of cushions and furs inside for our comfort...] Thanks for the kind words, Bux. I'm riding as swiftly as I can towards the wild border. It would be rude of me to arrive empty handed, so, I have packed the finest bottle of fermented mare's milk with two gold-plated Yuetshi skulls as drinking vessels, of course. I just checked the label it was made on the the tenth day of the month Yuluk, of the year of the Gazelle, from what I've been told it was a very good day, month and year for fermented mare's milk. Thanks Hun.
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Post by buxom9sorceress on Nov 15, 2016 23:24:00 GMT -5
~~~ Wild Roll ~~~ The big six wheeled elaborate Wagon-Yurt rolled down the long hill, heavy wheels spinning up dirt. The 8 puzzled grazing oxen watched their wagon go: they were usually shackled to it, pulling slow. There was a squealing and panting from inside, sounded like a dental patient opened wide? Two golden skull cups clanked and spicey milk was spilled as both their primal appetites were fed and filled. Twas a very good day for a reunion between a hot Sorceress and a warrior Hun. ~~~~~ [ by Bux ] -- [po77] - [ inspired by Hun ] Thanks for the wild ride, Hun.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 16, 2016 21:30:25 GMT -5
~~~ Wild Roll ~~~ The big six wheeled elaborate Wagon-Yurt rolled down the long hill, heavy wheels spinning up dirt. The 8 puzzled grazing oxen watched their wagon go: they were usually shackled to it, pulling slow. There was a squealing and panting from inside, sounded like a dental patient opened wide? Two golden skull cups clanked and spicey milk was spilled as both their primal appetites were fed and filled. Twas a very good day for a reunion between a hot Sorceress and a warrior Hun. ~~~~~ [ by Bux ] -- [po77] - [ inspired by Hun ] Thanks for the wild ride, Hun. Great stuff Bux. Thanks for the wild ride and roll.
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Post by Von K on Nov 17, 2016 14:02:02 GMT -5
No wonder Hun's been walking around lately with more of a swagger. That's a great Hyrkanian poem Hun! Hope there'll be more. Great amusing cameo follow up poem there too Bux!
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Post by buxom9sorceress on Nov 18, 2016 1:37:20 GMT -5
~~~ Wild Roll ~~~ The big six wheeled elaborate Wagon-Yurt rolled down the long hill, heavy wheels spinning up dirt. The 8 puzzled grazing oxen watched their wagon go: they were usually shackled to it, pulling slow. There was a squealing and panting from inside, sounded like a dental patient opened wide? Two golden skull cups clanked and spicey milk was spilled as both their primal appetites were fed and filled. Twas a very good day for a reunion between a hot Sorceress and a warrior Hun. ~~~~~ [ by Bux ] -- [po77] - [ inspired by Hun ] Thanks for the wild ride, Hun. Great stuff Bux. Thanks for the wild ride and roll. Thanks very much for stimulating me, with your poem and fun replies, into writing the new fun 'wild roll' poem. My long legs are still shaking. Rock on! -- [ maybe see you next full moon near the Khitan border? i have to go punish a greedy Khitan General who stole some special items from 1 of my caravans, at the huge wall border-gate Fort. ]
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Post by buxom9sorceress on Nov 18, 2016 2:02:43 GMT -5
No wonder Hun's been walking around lately with more of a swagger. That's a great Hyrkanian poem Hun! Hope there'll be more. Great amusing cameo follow up poem there too Bux! Hi VK. Thanks very much. Glad you enjoyed our rolling Hyrkanian liason. I look forward to a new poem by you, please? [ what about a Hyrkanian limerick, maybe? or more canoe adventures, in Pictland? ] ==== my best new red cloak and hood got a bit messed up in that wild wagon ride. [ thanks to Aggro for my 'hooded sorceress' avatar art ] Big thanks to Hun and Deuce for recently refreshing this topic with good new poems.
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Post by ChrisLAdams on Nov 23, 2016 8:42:26 GMT -5
Dark Days ------------------------- Spearhead force in dawn's gray mists banners wave aloft as knights join the lists medieval steel gripped in chain mailed fists- they battle for life and for supremacy...
Visors clang and swords chant their reeds grim and foreboding on black prancing steeds the bards shall sing of this days deeds- their names shall live forever...
Fleet is the charge, powerful the rush horses and men in armour crush war-scenes depicted from the artist's brush- the vultures feed well this day...
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Post by ChrisLAdams on Nov 23, 2016 9:18:14 GMT -5
This thread inspired me to go back and reread my poetry. I have't written much by way of poetry of late, although I have't quite sat the medium aside completely. I'm currently working on a sequel to a story of mine and oddly enough, Robert Frost's 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening' plays a part in the tale. I have always found that poem to be such a beautiful piece, and one of his easier to read from New Hampshire. It so moved me that I even wrote a dystopian space fantasy version of it that I am including in the afterward of the new story that I hope to finish soon. Even so, here is another one of mine that I wrote years ago after spending years crushing on a girl that no matter what, the gods of the cosmos conspired would never be mine, although we became very good friends.
Watched From Afar (about a girl)
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there's a bright star i can see in the sky
hopes stem from the glow, dreams are birthed at the sight
blessings and gifts all fall to men not as i
my wishes are wasted thoughts, i can not touch this light
a mere wasted thought to even try...
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Post by buxom9sorceress on Nov 25, 2016 2:08:27 GMT -5
Dark Days ------------------------- Spearhead force in dawn's gray mists banners wave aloft as knights join the lists medieval steel gripped in chain mailed fists- they battle for life and for supremacy... Visors clang and swords chant their reeds grim and foreboding on black prancing steeds the bards shall sing of this days deeds- their names shall live forever... Fleet is the charge, powerful the rush horses and men in armour crush war-scenes depicted from the artist's brush- the vultures feed well this day... Hi Chris and welcome to our bottomless 'Pit of Set' [ the best place to find new poetry shining up from the dark depths ] A cracking good start with the grim cavalry power of your 'dark days'. I like both your poems. Your talent shines bright. Glad to hear that this topic inspired you to renew your interest in poetry. All us poets go through lulls now and again. It is often a good new poem by a fellow rhymer which re-inpires us. Hope to see more new poems from your refreshed quill, please? Thanks very much for sharing your works with us all. Best wishes
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Post by themirrorthief on Nov 28, 2016 21:35:05 GMT -5
death came cold and unforgiving merciless and driven riding a steed of ice and frosty breath the grave awaits impatient and eager for its tribute of failed flesh cloaked in dark red and somber black long sleep awaits without dreams or regrets only the cold embrace lacking grace despite all this frightening imagery and the dream that is no more yet the darkness that envelopes all is perhaps the God's greatest blessing on their fools
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Post by ChrisLAdams on Nov 29, 2016 9:37:49 GMT -5
This is a little Lovecraftian piece I wrote about a stranded traveler whose car breaks down in the desert near the ruins of a mystical city...
In The City of Zalasaros
'Neath stormy skies ’n ghoul-spied passes, I sought my way to stumble- ‘Midst dark surrounds, a demon-cursed city, the structures all a-crumble-
My machine failed sorely, leaving me stranded, ‘midst swooping desert dunes- Whose musically shifting sands and weeds made cryptic, creepy tunes-
With scorching days behind me, ’n taking ne’er walked desert trails- If I’d only known that final horror t’ follow days of fearful travails!
My eyes quite weary, my torch long dimmed, my senses numbed by fright; With hours counting ’n days now numbered, a sallow radiance came to sight;
What baleful gleam is this, I thought, what lantern-flame - or glow? A torch, perhaps, or candle-fire, but knew only one way I might know;
My grip I filled, from a desert tree, a hearty branch of wood- And with said weapon I did battle, where THEY crawled ‘n writhed ‘n stood-
For now I know what I did not before, that HE does indeed live and writhe- That crab-clawed Zalasaros – that Feaster of Ten-million eyes-
HE came to this plane, no man knows, in times long distant and past- To blast men’s eyes ‘n carve out their souls, leaving their minds aghast;
And how, says you, how did I, give the slip to that crab-clawed fiend- It occurred, you see as, near a rail, in a tower of stone I leaned;
The same broke forth, ‘n down I went, as head over heel I tumbled- Somehow crossing distances vast till at last in San Juan I fumbled;
The thing I mark, and on which I marvel, is Chicago is from hence I departed- But two-thousand miles and two-hundred years is far from where I started
But no man crossed old Zalasaros and leaving went not unaffected- I survived to tell the tale, you see, but there’s no one I know that’s not dead;
My mind’s yet hale, or so I think, but these times are certainly strange- And I miss the century in whence I was born, and from which I am now estranged;
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Post by ChrisLAdams on Nov 29, 2016 10:11:13 GMT -5
Gads I love dark poetry.
A Shroud
Upon my face descends the shroud A hiding mask for dead eyes and whitened brow
Those that grieve will drink and fornicate soon enough For human flesh craves life and fleshly lust
Not for long will my mate think of me Nor so the child I once bounced upon my knee
From all but dim memory shall I soon fade Once in the cold ground I’m softly laid
But in spite of that damp sod my spirit shall abide And will split the aethers to distances far and wide
And it may be that I shall mate, and laugh once more Only not on this Earth - nay, but on distant shores
Cold steel once again shall hang at my side And a warm woman will kneel at my bedside
Too, my knees may again know waifs Who will learn from the one who keeps them warm and safe
And War and discord shall also know my hand As I make my way across strange, far lands
But 'til then my flesh and bones here must lie Until the day my spirit is called from on High
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