Mathahnus

Silver threads spun by spiders
With tears of morning on the precious lines,
Against the sun soon to set,
The steady flowing rivers clear her mind.

Ah, Mathahnus, you are ice.
Your words are the burn that pretends to be heat.
Though it feels like touching flames,
You see through the feeling and know the deceit.

Leaves of gold wave under brilliant skies,
Until the clouds gather in their hatred of life.
Then decay sets in to brown the edges,
And life is extinguished like a throat and a knife.

Ah, Mathahnus, you are night.
With all the heavens trying to destroy your shadows,
With all the stars to fill you,
For everyone to see, you're still left dark and hollow.

Will the sun, the light of hope, come again?
Sometimes for dark dwelling creatures it is hard to believe.
The black and despair are so consuming
That light seems to wither before its touch while all hope leaves.

Falling

I know that when the leaves fall

We will no longer stand tall,

For beneath the weight of their call

We are made to feel small.

We know when we have lost,

But do we know the cost?

Back and forth again we're tossed,

Our fate is cold as frost.

It's too late to fight.

We're given to night.

The bands are drawing tight

The strength of our plight.

We're in the flame

With none to blame.

The people grow lame.

Same is our aim.

No more rhyme.

Our minds fade.

Our wills are gone.

What is left?

We live?

Not here.

United death

Is all.

Soon

We

Will be

Gone.

Bye.

Prophecy of the Immortal (story)

Elysse smiled slightly, though her eyes remained cold. "Yes. This is all true. But your knowledge is still incomplete. Allow me to recite to you the entire prophecy, translated from the old tongue to our own:

A blood red moon rises

and brings war in its

wake from all parts

of the world Uhdrea.

 

With the Immortal lies

the world's fate. With

his strength, his mind, and

his faith will he triumph.

 

His choice alone

will mark the way. No

other will force

his hand beyond his will.

 

Marks he does bear

to make certain his identity:

eyes of the green sea, a

bloody sword, a scaled chest.

 

He will need a band

of brave companions,

a path to walk,

and an ending to life.

 

For he brings with him

secrets and terror,

life and destruction,

an end to the war.

 

(Read all previous parts of the story here: http://propheciesofshadow.blogspot.com/p/chapter-one.html)

Insanity

You know, sometimes I forget how insane I really am. It's not a dangerous insanity. If anything, it's a useful one. Like how I treat my characters as real people. I'll find myself having conversations with them while I'm thinking about what to write, and when I do write it often feels like they're taking control. Or how I'm often seized by a burning need to write dark, emotion filled things, usually poetry.

But if I didn't have that insanity, my writing wouldn't be the same. In fact, I wouldn't have any inspiration at all. Most of my writing is a direct result of insanity. Many plot twists come from my conversations with my characters, and the emotional scenes wouldn't be possible if I weren't in the grips of madness.

I'm able to control it most of the time, so maybe it isn't really insanity. I just bring it up when I have something I need to write, or when I'm bored and need entertainment. But there are sometimes in the darkest hours of the night when the shadows seem to come alive without any conscious effort on my part. So am I mad?

And if I am, is madness all that bad?

The Voice

I thought that today I'd share my favorite of my "creepy poems". This one is special to me because its one of the first I wrote, I wrote it in under an hour, and I was super tired when I wrote it, but I think it still turned out pretty good. Keep in mind that it's a bit dark. I don't think it will bother anyone, but what do I know... Hope you like it.

In the shadow I retire,
wanting death, the devil's ire,
bringing pain, that sick-sweet fire,
a torment that will never tire.

But suddenly a noise outbreaks.
The silence wrapped around me takes
a voice with no seen form to fake
and trick the eyes for shadow's sake

"What mortal lies here in front of me
and begs for death's blind eyes to see?
Your soul seems dark as night in thee
and yet you fear your strength, your key."

With a sigh I bow my head,
the sound of old emotions dead.
"It is not dark I fear," I said,
"but rather being blindly led.

"By ropes of twine and chains of steel,
lies of peace my daily meal,
and hurting those for whom I feel,
their fate I in betrayal seal."

"Then but accept me," the voice replied.
"The path I offer is true and tried.
You need not feel for those aside."
Welcome to Hell, the voice implied.