Fantasy

The Girl From The Darkside

Poetry

Thunder gurgled and the rain splattered;
People, animals, birds, all cowered,
Even the moon, was nowhere to be seen.
And there, in the darkness, she gleamed.
Unafraid she trotted through the darkest night,
Thunderstorm welcomed her with all his might.
“Oh you little frail girl, come back home and hide,”
Wise words were passed by the wizards of light.
“Darkness is not something that you cherish,
Rain makes you sick, better stay nourished.”
They tried keeping her safe and sound,
In the Kingdom of light, she felt bound. 
They used their arrows and their swords,
Anything to keep her from the dark world. 
But each  slash on her skin, each streak of blood,
She enjoyed them all, viscous crimson she adored.
Finally, she escaped to the realm of darkness,
She shed her mask and her clothes.
It’s in the light, where she had to hide,
In the darkness, there is no one to witness.
Hailstones and thunderstorms, all things dark rejoiced,
And the moon slowly waned and went back to hide.
The creatures of light, couldn’t believe their eyes,
They asked, “Who’s that girl? Is she gonna die?”
She heard all the whispers, and she simply smiled.
She was a girl born on the rainiest no moon night.
When the moon hid and heaven cried,
That’s when she first opened her eyes.

Featured image by: Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

Far From Real

Poetry, Writer life

She lives in a land far, far away,
In a Queendom of her own,
The land visited by nobody,
Built by her imagination.
 
It’s always icy cold there,
The reflection of her chilly heart.
But a blue rose rises from the snow,
A beautiful sign of hope.
 
Customs, rites and rituals,
All burnt in fiery fire,
Only thing she follows,
Is her broken, yet fierce heart.
 
She clings to her loyal puppy,
Only thing she adore about reality.
After all, her childhood dream
Was to become a dog fairy.

She sometimes wanders down,
To the vile streets of reality,
And in the absurdist of situations,
She’s found throwing love around.
 
The graffiti on the walls,
Lovers sharing a kiss,
All subject to deathly conspiracy,
Conspiracy called reality.
 
So, she hides cooped up
In her tower of imagination,
Wearing her favorite long tee,
Ruling her Queendom.
 
Don’t ask about her home town,
Or her favorite notable person,
Cause she’s been far gone,
Into the realm of imagination.
 
Outside her window,
Pink clouds float,
And the news headline…
She never reads them!
 
Sometimes, she visits the real world,
Picks old letters and crumbled papers,
That’s when she breaks down,
And reduces to nothing but ashes.
 
Then she rises like a Phoenix.
She’s not a Cinderella,
But Merida from Brave,
Strong-willed and fierce.

She’s friends with the ghosts,
Immune to gunshots,
She’s fearless,.
She’s the queen!

For NaPoWriMo Day 26, poem based on Almanac Questionnaire.

Almanac Questionnaire & my answers!
Weather: Winter
Flora: Blue rose
Architecture: Ancient
Customs: None
Mammals/reptiles/fish: Dog
Childhood dream: To be a fairy
Found on the Street: Evil
Export: Love
Graffiti: Walls
Lover: Kiss
Conspiracy: Deathly
Dress: Long tee
Hometown memory: Nah
Notable person: Nah
Outside your window, you find: Clouds
Today’s news headline: idk
Scrap from a letter: Crumbled
Animal from a myth: Phoenix
Story read to children at night:Brave
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find:Ghost
You walk to the border and hear: Gunshots
What you fear: Nothing
Picture on your city’s postcard: Not me, haha!

Featured image by: peter_pyw from Pixabay

Fruit from the Fantasy World

Poetry, Writer life

Oh dear you!
Such a beautiful fruit,
As if you came,
From a fantasy world.
 
You belong to a place,
Where dragons are real,
Everything is surreal,
Your beauty is ethereal.
 
Your bright pink cover,
With spikes yellow,
Lets my imagination soar,
Into a world so mellow.
 
And oh yes, your spiky layers,
Just like amber flames,
Reminds me of spikes,
That run down a dragon’s spine.
 
Oh you, such beautiful fruit,
You’re exotic, even rare.
Just like it would be,
If dragons were real.
 
And when I cut through you,
And slice you into two,
It’s like I opening a portal,
To a different world.
 
Thousands of black seeds,
On your plush white flesh,
Just like the night skies would be,
In monochrome reversed.
 
And when I sink my teeth into you,
It’s pure bliss, an ecstasy.
Why do people do drugs,
When they could do you instead?!

For NaPoWriMo Day 24.

Featured image by: Lovefood Art from Pexels

The Mermaid from the Mountains

Poetry, Writer life

One moonlit night
From lofty mountain
Silvery heights
A mystic maid
On a mossy bank
Leaned forward slowly
Staring solemnly at a moonlit pool below.
Innocent she was
As reflected there
Her amber eyes ablaze
And ebony hair
Danced in the wind
Which at that very midnight moment
Did suddenly gust
And like a kite
Her gold trimmed robe
Was suddenly aloft.
And high above the mountain ridge
She sailed until her village now
Did disappear behind a bouncing cloud
Then through the cooling mists
She was gently held, then dropped
Until at last
Came into view
A rocky ledge
Caressed by a warm, green sea
Was now to be
The edge of her new domain
Now that the mercurial wind
Had she set free.

And there she sat
A bit forlorn
For beneath the silken robe she’d worn
She looked slowly down, turned slightly pale
For transformed now her feet
Were instead a shining, sparkling tail
And near at hand
Her exquisite waist
A ruby studded trident lay.
Then suddenly she woke
As from a dream
A then a power within
Took shape and form
And with the trident aloft
She unclasped her robe
And to the outstretched sea
She did disrobe
And loosed her breasts till they hung free
Then and commanded sliding slowly uncoiling
Her glittering tail
Toward the sea
She plunged inside.

All at once the sea life there did
Open wide the frothy waves
And now their amber eyed queen they as one
Did herald
And then her uncoiling, wet and ebony black hair
Her body arching
Slender, sleek and firm
And with her fishy train, now warm and winding
She beheld them all with flirtatious gaze
And teasing smile
But seeing her throne awaiting
Her dancing, waving seaweed bed,
She rested not,
For on a whim
With her jewel encrusted belly shining
Her lustrous, arching tail beckoning
Sensual and slithering
Demanding to be preened and pampered
Kissed, adored
Adorned
Ogled and worshipped
By all her slaves and subjects
Now bound to her by deep desire
In her wild and crazy
Never scary
Dark and wavy
Queendom of the deep.

– Xavier

A very dear friend and a fellow blogger wrote this in response to my poem The Call of The Sea. He once asked me, “What would happen if the hands pulled me into the ocean instead?” And gifted me this beautiful poem. And I say, no Handmade Gift, can ever take place of this beautiful gestures, cause poems are Heartmade. I don’t have to tell you guys how awesome he is or how beautifully he writes, cause this poem speaks for itself.

Thank you so much Xavier. This means a lot to me! Love you loads and loads.

Featured image by: Stefan Keller from Pixabay