Writer’s Block

Anger
Despair
The swirling tulmut in my chest
The tearing inside.
I need to cry,
I need to rage.
Neither comes.

My refuge is the cause…
My shelter is full of spikes.
I want to hide.
Run away.
How do you hide from yourself?
How do you hide from your own mind?
How do you hide from your pain?

I need to get away.
How?
When?
Where?
I need a hug…
I need a friend.

Icy claws digging into my shoulders,
frozen fingers down my back.
The clench around my heart,
as it drops out of my chest.
Thoughts spiral,
down, down, down.
Caught in an endless loop,
feeding off itself.

I grasp at the edge,
fingers clawing for purchase.
If I can just hang on…
Can I ride this out?
Just a little longer…
…a little…

Swept away in the torrent,
I feel myself getting lost.
My heart pounds,
my thoughts race.
Darker, darker,
I am lost,
eaten from within
I am hollow, empty…
Gone

G otta get out
O nce this was a safe place
T en years later, it’s pain
T en years later, it’s frozen
A rctic aroud my heart

G otta get out
E scape
T o where?

O n my own?
U seless?
T o get out…

Alone, the knight traveled,
Bereft of companions,
Torn from his allies
by forces of Evil.
Vengeance is foremost in his thoughts.

He muses about lost loves,
Friends who have died,
Companions who have been
sacrificed to dark gods.
He has sworn,
in their names,
to Bring Evil Down.

Alone he ventures,
into Evil’s darkest Citadel,
laying about him,
with his massive, gleaming blade.
Carnage reigns supreme
in the halls of the Fortress.

Inward and downward,
the knight struggles.
‘gainst foes and fatigue,
‘gainst hordes of goblins,
‘gainst daemons and devils.

He reaches the top of the Dungeons,
Encounters guards and wards.
Trusting in his prowess,
he Forces his way in.

Finally, blood-spattered
and weary,
He reaches a Haven,
an untouched Shrine,
in its pure Radiance,
He rests,
and reassures himself
of the Rightness of his quest.

He conjures images;
of his friends
in their Prime
in their Destruction.
He allows himself a moment of Mourning,
A brief period of
Sorrow, for what he has lost.

Sleep, and then:
He wakes, Refreshed.
and Resolute in his purpose.
He ventures forth
again, into the mouth of Hell itself.

Still alone, he struggles on,
Fighting as much against
his Memories as
his Enemies.
Old fears return to haunt him
but, from the depths of his Soul,
He pulls out courage, Determination.

Into the depths of Hell he marches
His blade no longer Gleaming,
his head hanging from weariness.

He has gone as far as He can go.
The last Gate remains,
Unbreached, unmoving.
With a tired fist,
He knocks, no longer caring
Whether He lives or dies.
Caring only to exact what Revenge He can.

To his surprise,
the Gate opens.
Behind it,
the Lady of Hell awaits.
the Ever Gracious
Hostess.

The knight stands for a moment,
the collapses,
his wounds at last overcoming him.
His last words,
no more than a breath,
“My love, why?”

Author’s Note: This is an old poem I dug up while cleaning. The only thing I’ve done with it is change some line breaks, and capitalization. I’m amazed at how the reading of the poem changes by simply capitalizing key words at key points. Something I want to tweak, I think.

A place…in the woods,
A shining beacon,
Virtues followed,
even worshipped.

Knights in armor,
protecting, watching…

The town, a refuge
for those who are lost,
for those who value,
for those who love…

Goodness, light,
a beacon in the night,
against the darkness,
against chaos and murder.

Alone, abandoned by power,
One last place to live,
in sunlight, in peace.

One last place to fight,
side by side,
shoulder to shoulder,
Brothers and sisters
in Virtue, in light.

Author’s note: This was written by me a long, long time ago for an MMORPG involving a community called Wispwood Shire.  This is probably one of my first published poems on the internet, dating back to approx. 2002