James Barclay

[Mark D]

Random assortment

Sent to the heavens
to deliver a message,
'give peace to them all'.

That golden treetop
hangs high into the bright night.
No sense of dulling.

Dark mist culls the night.
A hint of death fills the air.
Silence clouds the land

Remembering back
on a forgotten era.
A trickling tear.

Content with the catch,
clutching to her icy web.
An early breakfast.

A few i wrote relating to The Raven

Rising tides will come.
Droughts and storms will rule the land.
What will we do then?

A clash of metal.
Sparks fly into the night sky.
Demons hit the ground

That night in Xetesk,
a mana-meld miracle.
The one magic was born

Back to some random ones

A droplet of dew
slides down her cheek; grasps her lips
then falls to the ground,
stains, soaks, floods a patch of grass
while he rides to the sunset.

flustered yellow eyes,
hints of white around the edge.
What a perfect egg!

snowflake covered hills,
blankets of infinite white
resting on the land.



That should do for now. Hope you enjoy reading!
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[Grace]

I like these!

The format is a little confusing, I read most of them as separate poems, but I'm not sure if I was supposed to.

[Mark D]

[Mark D]

Have wrote a longer poem.

Its my first 'Medieval' Genre poem, so go easy :p.



Blossom

The last trails of smoke escape the dying fire.
A new day.
The night-watch return to the barracks, their rusty iron clattering on the rocky floor.
Stray embers embrace the air, burning out before they touch the ground.

Silence engrosses the town. The early birds screech their mating calls.
Morning Merchants set up their wares, ready for the hungry townsfolk.
Crashing metal signifies the soldier training at the castle.
A thousand crows rise from the square. All is not right.

A thud on the walls. A ripple in the earth. Chanting outside the walls.
An invasion.
Soldiers and mages form up on the walls, blossom gracing their armour; Natures way of aiding with the defence.
Battle chants echoing through the city walls, as men and elf take up their positions.

All falls silent. Breath is held. Hands on hilts. Arrows knocked.
They are ready.
A deafening thud enters ears, the gates tremble and quiver. They give way.
Hordes of the enemy swamp the marketplace, like leaves over an autumn forest floor.

Iron and steel shake hands, whilst sheets of flame and ice embrace all.
Arrows whistle and thud as they reach their targets, silencing.
Shields batter and block, but always enough. The screams and cries of the dying fill the air
whilst fountains of crimson stain the ground.

Hours pass, the battle is done. They repelled the enemy, but have not won.
So many lay still, eyes boring into the clouds.
A sour victory is felt all around, as the blossom begins to fall.


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[Grace]

Hmm, I like it, but when you said Medieval I wasn't expecting elves. I thought you meant as in historical.

[Mark D]

Yeah i kind of slipped in and out of Medieval and fantasy.

its a work in progress to be honest, just wanted to get it out there. i hate keeping stuff locked away. ill be reworking it though.

thanks for the reply and i'll check your out in a bit.
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