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Merci's Poems and Prose

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[None of the poems or prose are about Dragcave, maybe I'll do some later about my dragon OC's =DD]

(If you use or reference any of the work in this topic, please credit it to www(dot)shof(dot)forumotion(dot)pro , where I originally posted it.)

Sweet Little Lie~

Dear, sweet Lie of mine

How in darkness you shine,

And oh, how you are perceived!

When you arrive, all are deceived.


Loving, pretty little Lie of mine

Why must you hide in places so fine?

Why not show your beauty to the world?

Why not let that shining darkness unfurl?


Oh how I love you, Lie of mine

Despite your walking that treacherous line

Just promise me, Lie, to never betray.

Oh little Lie of mine, show me the way!

Silence At The Opera

Welcome to the end, my friend

Watch your step, or you may stumble

A quick fall and you may meet your end

Isn't it an experience oh-so humble?


You will never be free of falling down

The Ferryman will forever wait for you

Make one misstep and you may drown

Death is but a distance from the pew


Raise your hands and bless the day

Praise the time that brings you an end

Death arrives to show you the way

As he does, eventually, for all men


Life is a sunrise to which sets silence

The stage that of an opera's stage

Death comes not with fiery violence

The curtain falls on not Hell's rage


Acceptance I give to Death that I,

In my time-wrinkled stage of life,

Will have to lay down and die;

The Ferryman understands all strife


Misty tales of rivers and mountains high

Surround the isle of the Ferryman's way

But on his raft I see no one to cry

Suffering is broken as here I lay


And those with me, the smiles we share,

Acknowledging the Ferryman our savior,

Our conversations filled with flare;

So the opera will close on silent behavior.


Confessions of a King

I am a king, and I am dying. In my last days I hath decided to write upon a page my lore and my life. I have titled the page "Confessions of a King". Darkness lay within that which no one dare nor bother plunder, and I fear that is what has become of me in my final hours.


The First Confession:

In my time as high ruler of this kingdom, I bore many maidens. None knew of the either, 'nye except one maiden. She was a street loaner, though beautiful as any a fair princess. I set eyes upon her a day in my carriage, and prayed my driver to slow the horses for just a moment while I gazed at this maiden of the street. When we eloped from the world, I didn't tell her why I had decided to do so. Nay, instead I lied. The truth be, I did not want my people to think lowly of me for bearing such feelings to mere streetfolk. For my foolish pride I confess, and I am sorry.


The Second Confession:

I pray my lord to thee my steward find fine home in the land of promise. Two score younger and full of glee my young steward, always the bearer of grand idea. I hath always informed him of the kingdoms problems, political, economical, environmental, and he hath always been my solution. Though I did not tell him, or perhaps he knew and had not given care, I had never given him deserved credit for the solutions he hath bestowed upon my people. For my foolish arrogance I confess, and I am sorry.


The Third Confession:

The greatest burden I bear with me this day and every day since, the murder of my dearest brother Bartholomew. He was eldest of our clan and bore great promise for our kingdom. Promise of prosperous years, a golden era in which all would prosper. Alas, I could not stand idly by while praise was bestowed upon someone that twas not I. I struck him down in his sleep like a coward thief, petty and unclean. The blame for such murder was given to assassins. The blood of my elders upon me, I am forever stained. For my foolish jealousy, I am sorry.


In my final hour I write these confessions to my eldest son, in hopes his mistakes will not be in manner as my own. As I write, I lay in bed and expect I shall not awaken to another morn. In my final hours I write, and I confess my forgiveness. Farewell.


Union of the Warrior

Day after everlasting day

Shed blood upon once-clean ground

Victims of the wars we wage

Enraged by war horn's sound


Set sail for the shores of glory

Say goodbye to wife and child

Swing your blade and send heads soaring

Pay them revenge for lands defiled


Live by code of a warrior

Die by coat of thine arm

Turn down he who is Death's courier

Inflict nothing on thy enemy but harm


Instinct be the guide of thy mind

Lust for battle your fuel to fight

Kill for a union of warriors to find

That you are a warrior, guard of mankind


More To Be Added.

Edited by Merci

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Come and Sit

Don't cry boy, come and tell me what's wrong

I've definitely the time for a story, you know

And maybe you'd like to hear a song

Come and tell me all your woe


Oh, come now boy, please don't cry

The world haven't room for tears

Or if you will, then tell me why;

Do you cry for love, hate, or fear?


You weep for the world, you say,

For she is sad and full of wrath?

That's the truth, and son, one day

We all have to take her paths


But you cannot save the world, son

But I'll tell you what I'll do

Come here and sit with me some

And to comfort, I'll cry too.


The End of Days

The landscape around you is a horror scene

Burning ground shows tale of flame,

Survivors of the last day on their knees

And long-dead bodies given no name


As the last, you walk upon brimstone ground

Molten faces engraved into the dirt,

Have no hope that you will be found

All your future holds is hurt


Then it comes again and you too fall to your doom

Another faceless body to decor the dust

All you know is gone and you lie in your tomb

Betrayed by a faith that you could not trust.


Hopeless DreamChaser

I'm chasing blindly and I know

That I'll be the same tomorrow

I know that I'm on my own

But I shall not be overthrown.

Legends will be told of my dream

Of how I easily cut through the seams

And of how I ride with the suns beams

To a land where I shall always be seen.

My dream is stronger than your lie

Though hopeless, still I ride

Fear my will as I go by

I shall succeed or die.

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So Long, Goodbye

I don't know where I'll go

Or how I'll get there

Or even if I should know.

But if I find that somewhere near

Then I'll assure my feelings were true

A new home without hate or fear

Where love birds have yearly flew.

In my note of farewell I write;

Fret not for it is only to you

My darling love, my one and true

So long, goodbye, and adieu.

Conformity Through Control

I cannot find the way

To bring about my death

To see my beaten face

Or rope around my neck

But I still hear the crying

It's reaching out to find

That even though I'm dying

Refusal holds my mind

My darkened eyes see dawn

And light begins to strive

So I go and be the spawn

Of those who keep me alive.


The Swordsman

A man sat upon his throne. Upon his back, as if it were on it's own throne, sat a sword. The sword had the long-petrified skull of some poor man to protect it's stainless steel hilt. It's blade glistened intricately, with, awkwardly enough, only one side bladed, the other dark and dull. The man looked back and forth across the ruins of his court, and he sighed, silently smiling.


"Darn." He said, "Could've gone for one last meal before you killed them all." He looked up, his jet black hair falling form his eyes and aside. What he gazed at was an extremely large demon. It had four legs, each like the legs of a dog. It's long body was that of a dog too, but where a dogs neck would be sprouted the torso of a man, a head, and upon the head, a mane of flame and horns of obsidian. The beast was ancient and one could tell this if only they knew his name. He was Ardenz, Bestia Inferni. The name was bestowed upon him by people of a long forgotten age, and today, it would mean "He Who Sets Fire, Beast of Flames". He was regarded, in every sense, as both a God and a Devil.


"Welp." Said the swordsman king, standing up, his red royal robes draping behind him, "I guess it can't be helped.". He shed the robes to reveal a more modern outift, a suit made specifically for maneuvering fast and precisely. He gazed to the demon once more, then to his surroundings. The demon snarled as the swordsman calculated his next move.


"What good are you to those you protect, half-breed?" Said the demon. "You and I are the same on the inside. Come now, and I promise I'll send you to Hell painlessly." The demon laughed, but it was then that the swordsman made his move.


The swordsman moved swiftly. He jumped to the wall on his far left and, using it to get even higher, rose above the demon, drawing his sword for a blatant blow in the process. The demon held up a hand, and in it there was summoned a blade easily ten times the size of the swordsman. They blades met, and in a flash of flame, the swordsman was suspended by his mere strength as he pushed against the sword of the demon, who merely bellowed a laugh.


"Come now, and die!" Flaming spikes of torture shot from the blade and pierced the swordsman a dozen times fold across his body. Blood spilt down to the ground and ran down the spikes to the blade, and ran quick and abundant as a river down the arm of the demon. Another billowing laugh as the demon slung the blade, and the swordsman went flying across his ruined court, against the wall from which he leapt. The demon turned to leave, walking through the hole he had made to initially enter.



And then he turned, sensing a sudden qualm in the plane that was existence. He saw the man brushing himself off, wounds gaping. The swordsman looked towards the demon and grinned widely as he spoke.


"Oh Ardenz. You can get as big as you want, as ugly as you want, and even if you did somehow get the power to take over all the world!" The swordsman raised his hand, and from across the room from where it had been slung by the demon, the mans blade flew to his hand as naturally as if it were a dove perching on a pear tree. "It's useless!"


The demons eyes turned wide as he screamed, unleashing all his power in a torrential flame. But it was indeed useless, the swordsman cut through it as if it were paper, and into the skull of the demon he drove his blade. Further, until the remains of the unlucky mans head upon the hilt met the bridge of the demons nose. The demon cried out in anguish as it began to dissipate, it's own flames betraying it.


The demon cried out for a half minute longer before it dissipated completely. The swordsman landed behind where the demon had stood, and, flicking the boiling blood from his blade with a deadly swing, placed it back upon his back. He walked from his court and stood outside to greet the new day. He sighed, and, with his hands resting behind his head, set out on his way.

Edited by Merci

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Am I allowed to post? xd.png Awesome thing you have going on there, though I don't really understand what half of it means, but seriously, great job ! :3

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Am I allowed to post? xd.png Awesome thing you have going on there, though I don't really understand what half of it means, but seriously, great job ! :3

I don't mind you breaking the chain. xd.png Thanks for the compliment. I love to write, about whatever really. It's expected that you don't get some of it.

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Heheh well that applies only for the literature-ish part of your OW thread. Im enjoying the story parts especially, since I can understand that tongue.gif

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Very nice work! :3 Hope to see more soon.


(I saw this when you posted it, but was afraid to post incase you wanted to reserve more slots. >.<)

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He Who Treads Righteous

I walk where water cannot flow

Beyond the eyes of a blackened sky

Where no one is allowed to follow

To henceforth, deep-welled evil lie


My sword does not waver as I tread

God's be good as my path be set

Only evil blood will my wrath cause shed

Till angels no more shall weep nor fret


My hand is a hand of holy magic

The palm given touch of repentance

No man whose story is sad and tragic

Can my touch not reverse in him evils advance


Gaze upon glory as it gazes upon you

And feel of perfection, for it makes haste

Outside of my homeland, I do not pursue

My job not yet done, I tread as he who is graced.


I'm Made Of Wax, Larry, What Are You Made of? (Based On The Song + Inappropriate Language Warning)

Here's a link to the prose on DeviantArt. You may need to verify your age, I'm not sure, but it's one of my better short stories.



The Poet I Am In My Dreams

The poet I am in my dreams

is mystical and enchanting

filled with wonder and wisdom

He sits

under the dull light of a desktop lamp

creating atmosphere

in his quiet, dark and unkempt room


The poet I am in my dreams

uses rhyming with perfect timing

writes smilies

as freely

as he indents

every line

His metaphors are powerful weapons

in his arsenal of words


The poet I am in my dreams

is a master of his Way

effortlessly translating

the buzzes and hums of nature

in to skillfully placed onomatopoeia

Even his paradoxes can agree

that he has perfected personification

and alliteration


The poet I am in my dreams

sits under the pink blossoms of spring

the ground below him damp, the leaves full of dew

the sun still half asleep

and explodes on to his page

the beautiful imagery he creates


The poet I am in my dreams

cannot be me

I cannot piece together such masterpieces

I cannot create such elegance

No, for certain, I waste my time

as try to grasp things I know nothing of

I am no poet, and could never be

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I lay out on my bed in sadness

Wishing to be set free from madness

My eyes pour forth rivers of sorrow

Unsure if I want to see tomorrow


I sit down at a broken desk

Filled with lies and past regrets

I take up my pen and begin to write

I scratch the paper far into the night


I cope with my sadness with a powerful pen

Writing my sadness, my lies and my sins

And when my fingers bleed, the sadness subsides

And the pen is rested until sorrow gives rise


Hate of Hate

I have a strong hate for hate

A hypocrite of olden faith

I hate those who perpetrate

That terrible, sinful act of hate

But help it I cannot but love them too

Because all human beings do,

The one that we call the who

The why, the there and the to

They all perpetrate that very hate

That I vowed to hate so true.


I have been a victim of love

Love as sweet as a cake

I have seen the wings of doves

And sacrificed but for lovers sake


But I have also been deceived

A harm not seen at first

I am a tool meant to please

To sate a wonton thirst


I am a hopeless victim

Dehumanized by love

And so I still stand with him

Because only to me is he a dove

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