Dragon

“More, more!” the Dragon demands

As the Dragon sits atop his towering treasure hoard

Of gold, jewels, and valuable things

It is safely contained in a secret vault

In an offshore Swiss Bank Account

“More, more!” the Dragon demands

And the Kingdoms of the world give him more

In tax breaks celebrated in public

And other favours quietly celebrated

delivered under the table, in private VIP lounges and boardrooms

The Dragon gets more, more

And yet

He does not have enough

“More, more!” the Dragon demands

The peasants ask why

“I give you jobs!” the Dragon replies

“I donate SOME of my gold…

To the trees,

to the poor,

to valuable cancer research,”

The peasants nod and agree,

“It’s charity, after all!

He doesn’t HAVE to give his gold away, but he does

How generous of this Dragon

Who sits atop his towering treasure hoard

Safely contained in a secret vault

In an offshore Swiss Bank Account!”

“Why, then?”

The peasants then realize,

“Why, then

Does my neighbour still not have enough to eat?

Why, then

Do I still fear the costs of being sick?”

“Because there is not enough to go around!”

The Dragon huffs,

Sitting atop his treasure hoard,

Of gold, jewels, and valuable things

And the peasants,

realizing that this is the way the world is,

that they are powerless to do anything about it

They nod and decide, “do not ask any more questions…”

“More, more!” the Dragon demands

As the Dragon sits atop his towering treasure hoard

There he lay with his gold

Lay there, he did forevermore

He became withered, forgotten, old

His inheritance went to his next of kin

Who crawled atop

His new towering treasure hoard

Which had grown from tax breaks given from his father’s charitable donations

And then the Dragon demanded more, more

---

Jean-Michel Vaillancourt

Jean-Michel Vaillancourt is a D&D fanatic, a video game enthusiast, a book-lover, and an eternal seeker for the art of storycraft in modern TV pop culture.

Wild

---

I lost you once to the madness of a moonless night.

I watched you dance with empty freedom in the street.

You gazed entranced at quiet breath

raised your arms and kissed the stars

until dawning sunlight’s broken scars

tore down your murky bliss with savage lust and dreadful might

and then, in your heartbreak, you cried.

One would suppose you might.

---

Colin Murphy

Colin is a professional scallywag. He is also well versed in the arts of foolishness and skulduggery. When he is not busy being a silly goose, you can bet your bottom dollar that he is up to no good.

2050

We,

the humans,

the waste of the earth,

have buried its beauty in our filth.

We,

the trash of the planet –

have made it so disgusting that it makes life here nearly unbearable.

We,

the virus –

have infected the natural world and destroyed it.
Life on earth is ugly, distasteful and wrong.

We,

the humans –

have infected so much of the world
now have moved on to what lies beyond to infect everything.
We were an incurable virus which adapted and spread.

We, humans –

make all other life invalid. 
We humans fight each other for things they believe they deserve.
We humans create rules and laws that they cannot follow.
We humans over complicate ourselves.
We humans abuse the earth.

But there is hope,

yet.

Refuse to believe that the world is over.

We humans have not infected every part of the world,

not yet.
There are still the oceans.

The deepest,

coldest,

darkest

parts of the ocean

still untouched directly by human waste.
Down where the pressure is immense.

There where the sun's light never illuminates or warms.
There where the darkness is void.
There in the ocean –

is hope.
There is a cure to the disease that we, the humans, are.
Ocean be the cure to the humans.

Written by Doreen Rivoire

Via Sarah Hope

Poetry is a funny thing,

It takes place when,

Your mind takes a breath,

And all you do is feel.

She wore wild flowers in her hair,

Not realizing,

She was the most beautiful and wild one.

The sky was a perfect mixture of what we both were,

Day and night,

Night and day,

We balanced each other,

With my mix of colours,

Blue, pink and orange,

And his calm starry sky,

That was waiting to unleash,

I made him feel light,

And he made me understand,

That light doesn’t come without darkness.

Ghost

I was once like you

Now you claim I do not exist

I blend with the fog or mist

A whisper lost in the wind

A memory slowly fading with yesterday

My laughter an echo

My tears an illusion

My frustration ignored

Can’t you hear me?

I had a name once

That too is lost

Maybe there is

Truly nothing left

Can I even say

I am here now?

You knew me

Do you want to forget me?

Do you want me to disappear?

Can’t you see?

…I was once just like you.

A Selection of Poetry from Morgan Montgomery

All Through the Plains

I rode out through the plains, my brother at my side

He said to me, “Will we ever reach it, brother

Our home under the stars, beautiful and distant

So long has it been, I can hardly remember”

I said to him, “We may never reach it, brother

But we must carry on riding, at least til dawn

It has been so long, we can hardly remember

But we may live there again, so long as we move forward”

And so we carried on riding, from dusk til dawn

Many days passing us by, sad hope in our hearts

And we will live there again, so long as we move forward

And keep faith in our memories to guide us there

Many days will pass us by, hope still in our hearts

For our home, under stars beautiful and distant

Keeping faith in my memories to guide us there,

I rode out through the plains, my brother at my side.

Standing before Camlann

I think now only of how I hate him

Even as I sit at his table and stand at his side

My mother’s words of betrayal echo in my head

He will never know the pain I have lived with

Though he is my father and I respect him, for her sake

I think now only of how I hate him

From my first breath he abandoned me

Thinking only of duty to his country and new wife

My mother’s words of betrayal echo in my head

She tells me I will betray him today

She says this is just for all he has done, and so

I think now only of how I hate him

I watch how all the people of the world love him

I know he is the only man who can save us, yet

My mother’s words of betrayal echo in my head

We go now to battle, to save our country’s people

I think of them, but soon, I am consumed and overcome

I think now only of how I hate him as

My mother’s words of betrayal echo in my head

Cat Poem

Never believe that I hate you

I may seem distant, but that’s how I am

You give me food, shelter and all that I need

So remember, I don’t hate you

If you come near me, I will attack you

I’ll never let your work get done, if I can help it

Everything you own will be flung to the floor

But that’s just part of how I am

You might get mad when I break things,

I get that, and I don’t blame you

Because I know you get scared when you can’t find me

And when you’re gone, I’m scared too

I’ll give you all that I can to thank you

I’ll lie next to you while you sleep

I’ll clean you and keep your house free of pests

I’ll even give you some of my food, so please eat it

Don’t be sad when I shy away,

Don’t take my claw marks the wrong way

Because I don’t hate you

I love you, and always will.

The Personal Effects of David Petersborough

Bible, King James edition

Handkerchief

Iris flower, dried and pressed in bible

Locket with picture of elderly man and woman, hinge removed

Love letter, written by David Petersborough, unopened

Music box, non-functioning

Photo of four men in combat uniform, saluting

Photo of one-armed man dressed in uniform, saluting

Pocket knife, badly damaged

Pocket watch, missing hands and various internal parts

Prosthetic right arm, hook-style

Scissors

Screwdriver, eyeglass

Wallet, leather

Strongbow

Image via Pexels.

---

This being the tale of Kailan Strongbow, who ventured from his homeland and won fame in battle, and who is remembered in story and in song.

Attend and listen to the one wise in word-craft,

As I speak of the far-famed Strongbow,

Tell the tale of dauntless Kailan,

Brave in battle, bold in deed.

Though far from home, a hero.

A lion in far-off lands, across the wide waters,

A wolf among his foemen, fierce and daring,

And an oak, tall in the forest, fearless of axes

Golden in glory won in warfare.

So they sing the fame of Kailan Strongbow,

Finest of warriors ever seen on western seas.

By doom driven, Raven-Woman’s rune,

Kailan turned eastward to find fortune.

First he came to grey Sasana, where rain is cold,

Boldly ventured, a thane of Cerdic, throne to win him.

Then came the hour when swords were shining,

Amid the clamour of arms, and men dying.

Like the scythe at summer’s end,

When the tall corn grows golden

Ripened for reaping at the hour of harvest,

Kailan, fared forward, dauntless of danger.

None withstood him, wrathful in battle:

Like flames flaring across the stubble

When the harvest has ended as autumn comes.

Strongbow’s arrows flew, fell like thunder.

Cerdic conquered, and Kailan with him.

Wealth and riches, rings and gold, Cerdic heaped before him,

And a strong sword he girt upon him.

So Kailan parted from grey Sasana,

Where the rain is cold, when Cerdic reigned.

To find fortune and win glory,

In lands that lay far from his homeland.

Far Kailan trod in the years that followed

Over sea and under heaven, to distant deserts.

Pathless years carried him to earth’s extremest reaches:

He rode with lords of horsemen, their long hair flowing,

Brave and valiant keeping vigil upon their borders.

He held iron tomes of long-dead sages, mighty secrets

Borne from tombs beneath trackless deserts.

He passed through the gate of the strong-built city

Where a king commands kings from his halls of purple.

Then he tarried in golden lands where summer is ceaseless.

Much he dared, and much ventured,

’Til Kailan Strongbow came homeward from many battles.

---

Joel Balkovec

Usually, Joel writes funny blurbs about himself, but he’s worried that would ruin the grandeur and mystique of his poetry. … What do you mean, “he just did”?
Well, anyways, check out the family-friendly Fantasy stories he’s written as J.B. Norman and his website at www.realmgard.com.

Bleeding Banner

Bleeding Banner

A distant red, blowing gently,

 ‘Notice me’ it calls.

‘Not yet’ I respond.

A flash of crimson, waving in the wind.

I feel another blow to my chest.

‘Notice me’ it cries.

‘I can’t’ I mumble.

I suck in, trying to ignore the pain.

It is strong,

It is deep,

And it cuts to the bone.

‘Notice me’ it screams over the wind,

Murderously raging.

I ignore it.

Time and time again.

‘Notice me, notice me, notice me.’

I look away.

Fading to a quiet thrum in the back of my mind.

So, I take the punches, the proofs, and the pain.

And I hide it behind a smile,

Behind laughter,

And behind fake love.

I should’ve noticed them

I shouldn’t have ignored them.

‘Notice me.’ The last murmur.

‘It’s too late.’ A broken whisper is all that is left.

And so, the tattered and torn flag still waves,

Red.

---

Esther Jager

Esther Jager is a huge bookworm and is always thinking of her next place to travel to!

Beth

Falling in love is still falling… and 

I’m afraid of heights 

A Series of Poems by 

Bethany Walker

Introduction

Have you ever stood at the top of a really tall building? I mean REALLY tall. The kind where all the cars and people look like the toys you played with as a kid. It's marvelous to see the world from such a view. Makes you feel invincible. There is, however, the feeling of great discomfort. Anxious energy just boiling inside you. 

The fear of falling. 

Imagine for a second, that you are standing on top of this building and you drop something very valuable. Time seems to move in slow motion as you watch your beloved possession grow smaller and smaller. It fades into the distance to the point where you can hardly see it. Then, it hits the ground. Shatters into a million pieces...

Feels pretty empty huh?

This series of poems is meant to simulate that feeling of watching something slip from your grasp. The emptiness and loneliness of breaking something you love…

There’s still something left though. You are still standing on top of the building, gazing at the beautiful view. Although these poems are mournful there is an underlying hope of the new things to come. 

Staring contest

Unblinking. 

Unmoving. 

Our gazes fixated on each other. 

Do you think you can keep this up?

I know I’ll be the victor.

You gawk at your own image in my reflection. 

The staring continues.

I like this game. 

I always win.

You don’t seem to enjoy it as much as I do. 

You finally advert your eyes to grab an object beside you,

A small tube of mascara. 

You apply it swiftly. 

With a few hard blinks and some fiddling with your hair,

You dashed out the door,

Grabbing your coat off the lamp and shutting the lights. 

I sit,

Alone in the dark,

Looking forward to our next staring contest. 

26 things I definitely don’t miss about you. 

Aboard the airplane, you rubbed my arm slightly, so I wouldn’t be afraid.

Bringing me snacks to see my bright smile.

Caring enough to notice when I was cast down. 

Daring to dance with me when I felt displeased. 

Eying me and saying I looked extravagant.

Forgetting my follicles.

Giving me gifts.

Holding my hand. 

I could never ignore you when you implored. 

Joking around and facing my judging stare. 

Kidnapping our friend's kitten because we both loved it. 

Loving the way I looked in your light sweaters.

Moving millimeters closer to me when we were cuddling.

Nobody knew when we ran away in the middle of the night.

Opening the truck door for me to enter first.

Pecks on the cheek.

Quietly patting my head when I fell asleep.

Running into a hug when we reunited.

Soothing words when I felt riled up.

Trying not to fall over when standing in the back of your truck at night.

Under a thousand stars we laid down in the grass.

Vowed we would never leave each other,

We made wishes under shooting stars, we e-

Xpected each other to keep that promise

You never stopped loving me, but still…….there are

Zero things I miss about you. 

Faded Feelings

Remember when you first said you loved me?

Those words sweetly whispered in my ear.

Goosebumps scattered across my skin.

Shivers were shot down my spine...

I suddenly felt sick.

Couldn’t say it back. 

It wasn’t true.

All’s gone now.

We are...

Over.

Bonus Poem

The Underground

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:

Petals on a wet, black bough.

The scurrying of a hundred feet on the slick brick floor was as the stampede of cattle, towards a single door.

Their movements slowed in the abundance of bodies rushing in a single direction.

Distant sounds of a strumming guitar and voices echoed through the tiled paths. 

The air reeked of desperation and waste.

White tiles polluted with smeared dirt and spray paint. 

The chatter blends into each other in harmony as hundreds of voices speak in the hollow space.

None can be recognized, as they shouldn't be. 

A fierce wind speed through the hall.

One could feel a hot and sticky breeze on their face, running through their hair. 

Some dashed for their hats, others signed in relief. 

Everyone pushes their way aboard, disregarding rules or courtesy. 

The metal snake zoomed into the distance,

leaving an unsettling silence on the tracks and a black tunnel.

Misfits

We bear the curse of wanting to fit in,

And needing to stand out.

Mingling with others has a risk,

One will soon discover.

Image courtesy of Exploring your mind.

Darkness is our veil,

Under whose protection we discover,

Our uniqueness has been taken,

Ripped from our very soul,

And shattered,

Never to be seen again.

But you could be a myriad of bright colours,

Dazzling amid the darkness and devastation caused by others,

Popularity would be yours to gain,

Human connection lost,

As you shoved person after person away,

To make your way to the spotlight.

One road leads to isolation,

One path steers you away from your true self,

Guided by your heart,

Not your petty desires,

Nor needless wants,

Your inner light will slowly start to shine.

depresso with your espresso: a collection of depressing poetry to read with your morning coffee

I. Heaviness

Does it ever keep you up at night?
Or does it strike you when you expect it least
Consuming your every thought
Pulling you down like a ball and chain
Tied to my ankle while you watch me drown
In a glass tank of my own design.

I think I know the answer,
And though I know that I cannot assume
And that there is nothing in the universe that could allow me to crawl into your beautiful mind
I believe that I am an anvil and you are a feather.

I am weighed down by reality;
You are disheartened by my lack of interest in your latest craze,
And I am consumed by the weight of knowing that maybe I am yours,
But you could never be mine.

I feel it in the weight in my chest when you tell me that your mother is disgusted by our "love,"
And question why I sit paralyzed in the car for what feels like a lifetime
While everyone else has gone in to see you.

You don't want me to be afraid.
In reality it is not fear, but melancholy.

Because what is love without a family?
Awkward meetings, yes
Thanksgivings and Christmas dinner
But it is not being weighed down
By nightmares of your mother looking at m
With rage and utter disgust in her eyes.

And it is not the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when I'm told to
"Keep a low profile,"
Or be silent so you can pretend I'm not there when she calls
And wait in silence as you feel nothing
And I feel everything.

So you love me.
I love you too.
I guess, because if I didn't it wouldn't kill me inside
To know that I can never be a part of your life
At least, not fully,
Not in the way that I want to be,
So that your home is mine and mine is yours,
Not in a physical sense, but emotional
Because you are my home
But it is a broken home
With floorboards that creak
And shattered picture frames of perfection.

I suppose I am just an old-fashioned woman
Even though nothing about our love is "old-fashioned.

These are the thoughts that burden me
Every waking moment,
In every "I miss you,"
"I love you,"
"I love you too."
Because "I miss you" is better than being kept from you,
Because "I love you" is spoken behind closed doors
Because my response is spoken with my head hanging lo
And my tail between my legs.

I know you're what feels right
But how can I know what "right" feels like
If it's something I've never known?

II.  Frozen

Submersed in darkness, 
She stands idle, 
Icebound in December air. 

Around her, 
A blistering wind whispers 
Arduous reminders of her many regrets. 

There are no tears here, 
Merely numbness 
As merry memories 
Turn to those of torment, 
And poisonous words wound her 
With a dagger doused in remorse. 

She is lost, 
Forsaken in the tempest 
Of her own creation, 
And the one she once called companion 
Is the catalyst in her destruction. 

To her dismay, 
What feels like the final blow 
Is merely the preface 
Of the long road  
Of aftermath ahead.

III. Closure

I’ve got a problem with closure.
It’s the thought of
Not knowing
Always wondering
Forever overthinking
“What did I do wrong?”

I just wanted communication.
Instead, you gave me
Not answering
Never speaking
Leaving me with feelings
Of regret.

I’ll never know why. 
You’ll never tell me
Why you did this
What I did to deserve this
What I could have done
To change this.

Please, just give me closure.
Let me know why
Whenever you pass by
I can’t breathe and 
I can’t move and
I can’t think, and—

But you won’t,
Because you 
Haven’t thought of me in years and
I’ve thought about you every day.

IV. Numb

When someone dies
People cry
Wonder why
But i’ll have to lie.

While you can’t deal
Or try to heal
I can’t conceal
That I can’t feel.

What hurts for some
Or makes you glum
To these emotions
I am numb.

---

Kira Frazer

The 30 rats in a trench coat that form the entity known as Kira Frazer emerged from the sewers on Halloween of ‘97, and have been wreaking havoc upon humanity ever since. She hopes to be the first rat-formed-entity to get a college diploma.

Never The Frail

Never The Frail

Strength, Courage, Determination

By: Dekra Abdo

Intertwined in the depths of my heart.

Buried deep down my transparent soul.

What other mysteries lie inside this ocean of secrets?

Am I a blend of double personalities? Do I have the power to dominate?

Is there a way to find my path of destiny from this dense entanglement of life’s mystery?

This darkness is suffocating, burrowing through the creases of my mind.

Possessing it.

 

Lingering in it. 

 

Owning it.  

 

But I refuse to be frail.

I refuse to be feeble.

I refuse to fall.

I let it all out and take control. 

Conquer the darkness. 

Seize the miracles of healing.

Never the frail.

Love at First Sight

There was no story of more woe than ours
A cat and a goldfish
Two worlds apart.

The fish danced in her bowl
A twirl so acrobatic
A taunting game. Oh, she was so classic

The cat swiped left, he swiped right
But no one but he could envision

penetrating that glass with his all might
A cat so stubborn he could do this all night

And he did, he just couldn't let it be
For that fish would be dinner, they'd all see
As his servant picked him up to go to bed
He hissed under his breath, "tomorrow you'll be dead."

But when morning came he was out of luck
The fish was gone, and in his place a duck!
"What is this!" he cries.
His owner came running to see
A small tear running down his cheek.

"She was gone this morning to a better place," he explained.
The cat imagined a nice big plate, it wouldn't be plain
He daydreamed of a steaming pot filled with fish
It would be better than his regular old cat dish.

That dream he dreamt felt so real

it would one day be his greatest meal.

But a day like that never came,

And in his old age he would complain.

In heaven he thought, “Wow, this is shit,”

For he had just bit the dust; man… it was the pits.

He had learnt very fast his fish was not here

For that fish was still living next door at his peers’.

He was mad at Kevin for he never said a word,

He growled under his breath, “I’ll kill that bird.”

---

Kitty Snapp

As a person who loves the arts, she especially loves the art of writing horror. Being able to make people jump with just the written word is the sign of a truly great writer. That's what she aspire to be.

Grief is a Potent Muse

“Grief may be eternal, but writing about loss can be cathartic. Here are a few of my poems about grieving, that helped nurture my healing.”

—Samantha Rhodes Mason

---

Samantha Rhodes Mason

Samantha has a love for all forms of speculative fiction across all media. Possessed of natural curiosity, Samantha enjoys learning and new experiences. Each new piece of knowledge or endeavour adds to who she is and how she sees the world. She is a firm believer that some of the most amazing experiences and events could even be in your backyard (figuratively, if not literally).

Frozen

Frozen in fear of the thought of losing you.

Snapshot moment kept forever, lasting forever.

Dreams come so quick, but nightmares are timeless.

Like frozen water on the ground, I fell for you.

I stood myself up, I brushed myself off, I healed the cuts leftover.

I let ice form around me, to protect me, I’m only me.

Me, me, me, me, memory, memorize.

The script so I don’t freeze when people ask.

“Are you okay?”, I’m ok, I’M FINE.

I don’t know why they ask; I don’t know why I answer.

Nothing ever happened, you made sure of that.

Stopped it, froze it, crushed it.

“What is it?” you ask.

It’s my heart, my soul, my pain, the cold.

It’s all I’ve ever known.

---

Kurt Thuot

Kurt is a 24-year-old author who may or may not be a hopeless romantic. He likes long walks on the beach at sunset and pina-coladas in the rain. He also likes cliches. While Kurt may not call himself a poet, he does believe in speaking from the heart.