View Full Version : Lux Aeterna (Solo)
Thus contained in this tome lies the poetic knowledge and ramblings of Duffy Bracken, Tantalum and leader of the Tantalus Theatre Troupe. They are tales of his exploits thus far in his life, from the first performance of I Want To Be Your Canary a year ago, to the adventures in distant lands after his conflict with Lucian.
This here is my story.
A tale told in such rhyme.
Bristling with contention
Aggression ends each line.
This line is my motto,
My revelation true.
Each line soon summons anger,
In me, and he and two.
This chord here is my song,
My anthem of transcendence.
Listen to the hollow words,
And fall for such repentance.
This dawn is my disaster,
My sober path recalled,
Listen to my life thus far,
And fall down dead appalled!
Theatre Of The Sun (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19487)
This theatre fine of wood and steel,
Stands betwixt the realms of man,
Soldered in the ether stream,
Of sundry sun and faulting fan.
This flange tipped spire of drama's child,
Atop the winter lacking mound,
Compiles the thoughts of mankind's soul,
Which resonates with pound.
This page from which such words are sung,
This quill which flicks with grace,
Conspires within the global realm,
To set word and song to pace.
This crowd on sandy brandistock,
This gathering of swords,
This placating stand of communication,
Sedates yet inspires the hordes.
---
This Crooked Nook
Warped, degraded sands of time,
Ivy on the mighty ‘cline,
This dark and stained and tumbling ‘bode
Is no fine home, but still it’s mine.
This crooked nook, this crooked nook,
How fine it was in days gone by.
Fine tiles of gold and walls like snow,
Why away did the beauty fly?
Wood alike the dark night quilt,
Infested just like the neighbourhood,
My fallen door so grand yet shattered,
Like any door it would have stood.
This crooked nook, this crooked nook,
Once it was the family house.
Now here it stands in weary sorrow
Like a groom without a spouse.
Lilith's Quip
I try and help, I’m left alone,
With needle thread to stitch,
Then I’m accused, and I’m abused,
Of being more the bitch.
But I will say, oh yes I will,
For I’ve a right to shout aloud,
You ask me why I stand about,
You ask if I’m allowed.
I tell you now, I will keep saying,
My disapproval if it’s right,
I’ve a mind to speak my mind,
Of what lies in my sight.
Yet you take such disgrace at me,
For speaking in my place,
Yet when the troubles break you down,
You hide away your face.
---
Dispossessed Reality (Once More, With Feeling?) (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19803)
I believe I am a courtesan, A social aggravator,
I’m an individual of electric intelligence, God.
I detract from social melodies
With a painful, smitten ring,
Although humour and parlay are my boons,
I am distant, despondent, disturbed.
Care you not? I whip frenzy, fury and fame to life,
My words are hung so humidly,
Forever caught between loneliness and crowds
I bond the bridge with radiant presence,
I believe I am a chameleon, a mystical thing,
I tether the surreal in elegant attire.
Even with calendar stocked and memories fond,
I feel awash with grey and false toned lies.
Friends in waves are nothing more than passing fancies,
I long for moments of true mutual communion,
Laughter and hope, Secret revelations,
For once, please – with feeling?
The Bard's Quintet
(Harp)
He plucks at strings on golden oak,
Fingers roll along such lines,
Calling siren song to life,
For requiem the harpist pines.
(Calling)
His voice harkens times’ reprise,
A vocal line of light,
Each note he sings, each word he brings,
Quells evil’s wake and nightmare’s flight.
(Ballad)
He summons tale through fate bound thread,
He calls forth image with soul said,
A ballad flies with time’s demand,
A vision of deeds brought forth from head.
(Knowledge)
Of flora and of fauna,
He knows no earthly bounds,
On nature’s beasts the bard is king,
On dragons and on hounds.
---
The Calligrapher Fantastic
I walk the aeons with such clarity,
I waltz the sands of time,
With this pen of ink and wing,
I write of love and crime.
I see the worlds around me fall,
I talk the tales of men,
And with each step upon such sands,
From truth I flee and stem.
With this pen I recount the words,
Of a thousand tales so told,
And with the words of all creation,
To the dream world I am sold.
Forlorner Brother (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19779)
Taught, half-cut, unblemished,
Divine procrastinator.
Broken, tight, relinquished,
A vile blood tie debater.
Fallen, angered, shimmering,
Someone with manipulation,
Outraged, lonely, fleeting,
Ideas above his station.
Leader, leading leaders,
He thinks he’s king en masse,
He helps by helping the down degraded,
But replies with critique crass.
He needs to feel apart yet whole,
In one group, and another,
He’s falling down awash with hope,
Of finding his lost brother.
He wishes he was this and that,
Had these clothes, those,
This man is friends with enemies,
Yet hates all that he knows.
---
Nemesis (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19837)
Collecting thoughts I find you,
Upon the futile rock,
Gathering your graces bound,
To condescend your flock.
I see you quelling anger,
I see you binding rage,
But for once I wish you’d be yourself,
And try to act your age.
It’s not that I despise you,
It’s not that I don’t care,
It’s more a clash of egos true,
A need to solve fault fair.
For your vision scares me not,
Neither do threats so thinly veiled,
For our friendship, if you’d call it that
Is a boat of knowing sailed.
The Legacy
No dawn, no day, no heart-felt reprimand,
No allegorical excuse for the lightening heart,
You have no will to make your doggerel command,
No strength left to tear your maker apart.
You’re wounded, dying, desperately dancing,
Watching the world flash by in spectrum grand,
See the last day’s of man, his wildfire prancing,
Let your feelings slip from your blood-claw hand.
Breathe deep the air of your funeral pyre,
Sigh a relief amidst your loneliness, your rime kissed self,
Wherever you meet the heaven’s sky or the darkest fire,
Feel safe in the statement of your wealth.
Protected from the death of all this glory,
Embrace the eternity, your legacy, your story.
---
When Will I See You You? (http://www.althanas.com/world/showpost.php?p=155639&postcount=16)
I look across the oceans,
In a vain and faultless hope,
That you’ll come home across the tides,
Or down from the mountain slope.
I hope you’ll find your roots again,
Out there in the endless rains,
I hope I’ll see you once again,
To satisfy these pains.
I look out across the midnight skies,
For the beacon of your heart,
I hate the fact that we have failed,
Yet I hate that we’re apart.
Dealings With The Thief
Oh dreary father time,
What connotations bring you to my door?
I care not for your dealings,
I care only for the expectations others reveal in them.
I will arrive when I please,
Except, and only when my friend, it is a mutual illusion of place.
Oh dreary son of wine,
What desire makes you so sweet, yet sordid on my lip?
I wish not for any dealings,
With the succulent dreams you give now, yet time pain for the ‘morrow.
I will do this harm because it makes me feel,
I will cut my time to make this present golden.
---
Corrupted Tongue, Semantic Lust
Man has a true fascination with words -
However, where we meet is in the silence behind them.
Sundered atwain with desperation,
At our inability to listen to the messages behind the veil,
We can do nothing but waver,
Like reeds in a jaundice-laden wind.
Like a poetic license falling on deaf ears
We caress the borders of sanity.
*Can you weave words like storm bound prose?
To draw sapiens and beast akin in pathetic fallacy!
Lure them to command and beseech them to speak,
Of favours and of how great you truly are.
On the other hand, do your words stumble?
Forever tripping you with cumbersome form,
Setting you tumbling into the abyss
That has become this decadent language.
---
Scion
My twisted branch, my burning flag,
My natural symbol, shining bright,
Fallen memories, brittle conversations, melodious breath,
Cut chords left dangling.
Formulating opinions without preconceptions,
Leftover cracks on life’s long journey,
My oblique, my transparency, my see through silhouette,
My unforgiving legacy.
Convoluting practicalities with jealous demands,
Drifting through mistakes, floating through intangibilities,
Shocking, sulphurous, salivating, slaughtering,
Castrated from free thinking!
I am the child of the formative complexes, dreams.
A descendant of ancestral recall, with boon, the first,
Forgive me mother for finding pretensions,
Forgive me father, for being cursed.
Of Dragon's Dreams And Dust
I sit here in disgust,
For the block strikes nigh again,
I've spent my day whittling my nib,
Fighting my restrain.
I want to write just one last verse,
A line to end all lines,
I want to smell the roses wrought
In the woodland realm of pines.
I talk myself a merry talk,
Soothe soul with caustic lies,
For every time I flick to paper,
The poet in me dies.
I seem to have hit an end stop,
A stop to all dictation,
Of dragons, dreams and dust I dream,
Of tripling and sedation.
I long to write like I’ve never written,
Make marks in a mystic land,
But here I am, settling for nothing,
Fighting with time's hand.
The Circle Of Life
Blooming,
Looming,
Dooming time.
Nectar,
Spectre,
Graceful rhyme.
Leaves,
Peeves.
Angers wrought.
Growing,
Flowing,
Dying for naught.
Extending,
Bending,
Reaching out.
Living,
Giving,
Life bound doubt.
Upwards,
Outwards,
Reach for skies.
See the beauty as beauty dies.
---
Dying Amidst The Beauty
Our world continues onwards.
Our society does not.
Such beauty in our fruitful midst,
Has man simply forgot?
We fight, rage and run so rampant,
In jungles, valleys and on plains.
We dance and flounce on ocean beds,
We sing our song in acid rains.
We’re dying amidst the beauty,
Of this world and of the next.
Why we refuse to see such beauty,
Causes me to fall perplexed.
---
Travelling Man
I’m here standing at the border,
Between hatred and denial,
Circumlocution boils my veins,
A liquid for God’s vial.
I’m questioning my motives,
By putting fears aside,
I’m questioning these phrases,
As on hatred now I glide.
I’m controlling my wide borders,
In this world of worldly pain,
I’m abandoning my land to immigrants,
To find myself again.
Opening Verse Of Lysander's Flock (Addressed To Celia)
Oh hear! You are nothing to me,
Not a scratch on the heart, or torn lung, nought.
I crumble at your presence but I know not why, I am bound, tied, tested.
Collect your belongings and flee, flee from the scene,.
I need you not, foul damascus blade!
Perfect symmetry? Once, it existed between us, it is now shattered.
Like the kaleidoscope of summer, you must soon fade, spent,
I wish to see no more of you, feel no more of you, cry no more for you, be gone!
I am now my own discovery, spending dreams to trade for lovers, dead.
---
The Howling (The Children's Bedtime Story, Otherwise Known As How To Get Pete To Do As He's Told!)
How did we arrive, how did we convalesce?
Fortune has abandoned us now we are here,
Left to the son of the red fanged prophet,
Abandoned to fend for ourselves, alone
with the Howling…
the Howling comes.
We ask questions of our intent, our chances,
How can we survive the night watchman’s wrath?
Crawling through the mud, the reckoning wind,
Here it comes like a behemoth sour, alone
with the Howling…
the Howling comes…
Why have we been set upon by Evil’s masque?
Run children, run father, run mother, run son!
Our maker’s beast comes hard through the shadows,
Help us lord, save us from the ravening claws!
The Howling comes…
For us it comes…
---
A Naughty Little Tale (From The Oncoming Divine Comedy Play 'Chatelaine's Considering.)
Young Alice sought to expand her mind,
She searched far and wide and near,
But every time she found adventure,
She felt both sick and queer.
Young Alice travelled through the lands,
To find a place to call her home,
She ventured north with icy hands,
And south to the streets of Corone.
Young Alice longed to find true love,
Her heart warmed by a manly strumpet.
But after all the searching searched,
She only desired some crumpet!
The Scourge Of The Red Ship (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=19773)
Salt on wind,
Gull on thermal, upward bound,
Ageing wood, cracked and weathered,
Water crashing, rebound and pound.
Love on gale,
Surf caught high in moment slight,
A summer spent, a winter left,
A roaring wall, such splendid sight!
Keel on water,
A home on movements carried afar,
Oh what a life on the ocean grand,
Hear the sea’s note in every bar.
---
The Inner Spark (Awakening Magic) (http://www.althanas.com/world/showpost.php?p=155639&postcount=16)
A half-cocked smile, staff driven down,
I stand upon this mountain frail.
With sun a’ shining, teardrops falling,
I pray one day that it will hail.
With sultry kiss, and flash of grin,
I hear the songs of many scream,
I see the day when they will say,
That child of mine has radiant beam.
With praise be to skies, my hatred dies,
For God is in my pagan feet,
I am alone in the Greatest Way,
I’m all alone, yet God I’ll meet.
---
Oh Miss Ruby, Won't You Hear Me? (Lucian's Call Dream.) (http://www.althanas.com/world/showpost.php?p=152082&postcount=3)
Down in the dumps like a rat in the sewer,
I once again love but this time it’s newer,
Fresher and freer than the turmoil since past,
I wonder if this time, this love will last.
It tingles and tangles my thoughts and my scars,
Plays loves true concerto with drums and guitars,
Shouts out to the heavens in purest bliss,
Oh how I have missed such a feeling as this.
There is a crack on the pane of this fantasy dark,
I say I am in love, but hear the cry hark,
What I meant by the lie is that I love someone,
But my target of love, knows me as no one.
Visla Eraclaire
10-18-09, 07:49 PM
In honor of your
choice of format for this thread
I will use haiku
This is not the way
Threads are generally done
But that's no big deal
I will have to use
A much modified rubric
To evaluate
The categories
Are the same but their meanings
Are quite different
Story, character
And technique, out of thirty
But what do they mean?
~~~~~~~
For story I judge
How well these poems fit
In your narrative
Some you weave right in
Others seem arbitrary
I give a twelve
~~~~~~~
It would be a stretch
To connect your character
With all these poems
Some are, many not
The links you give, dubious
Many words, less depth
Here, sadly, you score
Eleven, but not because
I thought this was bad
Poetry simply
Does not lend itself so well
Though it could be done
~~~~~~~
Your rhyming schemes were
Frequently quite bland, you know
A-B-C-B, yuck
Well, other than that,
Your technique here suffers from
The same old problems
Confusing word choice
I won't forgive you just 'cause
This is poetry
When you escape from
Clichéd structure, these are good
But that's rare: sixteen.
For my wildcard score
I am giving you an eight
For novel ideas
I did not try to
Scan and explicate each line
My time here was short
I most enjoyed these:
Lilith's Quip and Nemesis
Though not without flaw
So, fourty-seven
Higher than your other thread
Somewhat ironic
For experience
Your format reduces it
You earn 400
Taskmienster
10-18-09, 10:25 PM
Added. No poetry here. Too bad.
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