TLC Forum

@ Always: I don't know if there is such a thing as a natural knack for rhymes. My dad had to train me to find rhymes.

Anyhow, I wrote two rather strangeish poems today, and so here's the longer one.
(By the way, I like lightning. It's so wild and it feels, in a way, otherworldly. So the idea behind this poem is this: what if there are other worlds through the lightning bolts that you can make your choice to go to if you see them? And this one was actually not based on a desktop this time.)


The rain was broken, wind was snapped,
And right before the thunder clapped

A white-hot drop of light met earth—
And almost came a new world’s birth.

For, only once before it fades,
A forest filled with golden shades

Of sunlight glowing through a tree:
A glimpse of hope for those who see.

A dappled deer with legs like wire
Looking out through purple fire

Framing, up and down, the sight
We have of happy worlds of light.

But no one met the bolt of life
Descending like a white-hot knife:

A knife, that if it touch their heart,
The boiling sky would tear apart,

The line of gold would widen ’til
They stood upon the very sill.

The choice is given: will they stay?
Or later come a different way?

Once they see the world that waits
Not one would trust to later fates,

For once the dazzling world they find,
They would be loath to leave behind.

The glowing crack shot through the sky,
If not inhabited, will die,

And only in one moment give
The chance another life to live.

But now it’s gone, the world is dead,
That fairest moment swift has sped.

But no one saw the golden leaves,
And no one saw, so no one grieves.

That's wonderful, Hobbit!!!

Like it!

That was vivid and just all around great! Loved it.

Thank you, Ariel and Jaygee and Nia!


This is one I actually wrote in March, and I thought I'd already posted it, but I guess I didn't. It's a sort of short dragon-faerie-queen thing.

Under the cliff by a rocky wall
In wisps of mist and smoke,
I found a mound, unguarded, small,
Which I, by chance, awoke.

Upon my brow a green star shone,
My arms were gold were wound,
When to the place I came alone,
With silver twining crowned.

The dust was burnt to golden sand;
By chance I touched their eyes,
And when their small mouths found my hand,
I heard their whistling cries.

I gave them power to their wings,
I gave to them the sky,
I gave them songs the dragon sings,
I gave them my goodbye.

I have a lot of theory behind this one, for such a short poem, but the long and the short of it would be that the first dragons were born when a faerie-queen accidentally touched a sort of nest-thing on the ground. Either that, or the idea that hatchling dragons are in a sort of hibernation until the faerie-queen touches them. But I favor the first theory myself.

Faeries are awesome. Great poem...I can't rhyme or stick to rhythm, so mine ends up being free verse.

And see, I can't do free verse worth anything. Thanks, Albero!

Ooh. Love the imagery!

Thank you, Ariel!

Great!