Future Poet, Watch Me

I’d need a getaway

Far from them and their complicated ways

Thrusting myself in someone else’s way

I’d need you to be my getaway

Worry not, though, I’m in no hurry

I want to take it slowly

Savoir every part of we

One day our time will run out

Scattered there and about

My only hope is that you’ll be as happy as me of what we made

-V.T.T 06/2020

Original text

Once it roamed the earth

The day after it’s birth

It had to show it’s worth

Digging for its food

Cowering from the crude

Always being the most shrewd

Then it was old when it awakened

But death wasn’t the end

For it gave back the life the earth did lend

So when you walk in the wood

Don’t be afraid of the skull

For you know it did much good

Grand is the mountain that guards the forest

From its top rests a bed of white snow and lazy ice

That ice which is hit by the sun’s rays

It longs to slip down and explore the tiny ground below

The lowest it is, the smallest it becomes

Small and warm, it becomes

It melts and turns into water, crisp and limpid and cold

Cold but now free it slithers and scrapes the old rocks

Drinking their mineral taste

Down down it goes

It travels for many a day before it reaches the foot of the mountain

It is now but a small stream, thin, and calm

Passes under a fallen tree and between trouts

The stream lands in a clearing and laps over smaller rocks

The rays of the sun not hot enough to warm it

Cold cold it stays

And he plunges his cold hands into it

And splashes some of that limpid water in his tired face

The taste of the rock, he tastes it, between his teeth

Tic toc goes the clock

As time is spent pondering

These unchangeable outcomes

An unbalanced scale of questions

A simple what if game

Spiraled out of control

A natural disaster persists

This cyclone with no mercy

Meaningless worries

Piled up and overlapped

Adding up incoherently

Like a broken calculator

Stuck in yesterdays mistakes

The clock goes tic toc

It counts down to tomorrow

Never waiting for anyone to be ready

Writing Prompt

Less is more, more is less

Enough is too much, too much isn’t enough

Putting effort is discouraging and discouragement demands no effort

Trying can result in failure but failure is choosing not to try

Silence makes quietude seem loud whilst too many sounds can be silent

What is what and who is who

It’s hard to know when one word can mean another

When one person can be two

That’s when I knew it wasn’t her

Scoll down to find links to all of our works!

Sorted by writer and genre

Vintage Time Traveller - V.T.T 

Poems

The Walk

The Bird

Getaway

Rebirth

Rocks

Chasing Butterflies

Poems

That Feeling

Fast

Silent Night

The Atlantic Storm

Out of Control

Writing Prompts

Who are you?

Fabulous

Foems/Poems

Why can’t I poem?

So close, yet so far...

It doesn’t make sense

Hopeless Romantic - HR

Poems

Let down

You

South East Sky

Creative Writing

Crowns (Series)

Sneak Peak 

Chapter First 

Chapter Second

Poems/Photography

Searching

They wander the sky

these hands of mine

Aiming to grasp at

these freckled blue skies

Wandering low,

wandering high

Never quite grasping

the immensity of what lies

Beyond our reach,

yet before our eyes.

Photographs and composition by ~South East Sky

[Special sneak peak]

[Stay tuned for character presentations]

The order of my story is still in the works, please bear with me while I organize my chapters logically!

“Me?” James asked, incredulous. He brought his horse to a halt along with the “convoi”.”You’re saying I should be the one to gather firewood?”

“I apologize, Your Highness, but without your great contribution, we will not be able to settle down before nightfall. There simply isn’t enough time left, or enough hands to get everything done.” his right hand man, Philip said from the front as he jumped down from his own horse, immediately starting to loosen it’s grith and preparing to untack. He glanced back at James, an apologetic look on his face.

Everyone immediately got to work. Philip tended to the horse, making sure they were groomed fed and tied down for the night. NAME set up a few rudimentary tents, aligning them in a semi-circle. NAME started gathering large rocks to form a firepit. The sun was dangerously nearing the horizon, and the Prince realized there truly was no time to spare. Darkness would be upon them within the next hour, at most.

“Alright, then. Firewood it is.”James blew out a sharp breath, visible in the winter air. He could surely find it on his own. He was James Trenton after all. What man in this country could call himself a man if he could not even provide wood to light a fire? This was simple.

He set off on his own, a first for him. He thanked his innate orientation skills, something he had possessed from a very young age. James led his horse towards a large stream he had noticed when they were travelling earlier. The pair trotted along, stopping ever so often so James could hop off and gather a few dry logs and sticks. He was feeling quite confident about his job, but sadly no one was there to notice his exploits.

Sticking his foot in the stirrup, James swung his leg over the saddle easily. The logs dangled on either side of the saddle, nudging the horse’s sides as it moved along. This made the animal a bit skittish, but with constant reassurance and encouragements from it’s rider, the horse started moving along.

The forest they were travelling through was dense and difficult to navigate, but it was the most direct path to PPLACE. The trees were filled with small winter birds and quite a few squirrels. One of them suddenly ran down a tree, sprinting right accros James path. The horse spooked, skitting to the side and throwing James off balance.

“Slow, boy. Nothing to worry about. Just a little squirrel,” James hummed, readjusting himself in the saddle. He’d barely had time to find his right stirrup when a crow shot by, cawcking loudly right above their heads. The horse panicked and started at a full gallop, the log now banging his sides, adding to it’s agitation. James held on, but when the horse made a sharp turn to avoid a tree, he was sent flying to the ground.

With a wet thud, he landed quite unceremoniously his hind end. His pants and coat were quickly soaked by the steady stream of water trickling by.

“Fantastic.” James swore through clenched teeth. “There’s a stream barely two feet wide, and I manage to land my butt right in the middle of it.”

Getting to his feet, rubbed his sore behind and checked if any other part of his body hurt. The horse was long gone, and walking through this dense forest with a broken angle would be quite the thrill, so he was relieved when he found that nothing ached, other than his pride.

His boots quickly became damp, seeing as they were built to resist the cold, not go fishing. James promptly stepped out of the vicious stream and shook himself off like a dog, patting down his coat and wrung out the edges, where it was dripping. Glancing up at the sky, he estimated about 20 minutes before sundown, and so he immediately started walking back the way he came, towards the camp. He tried grabbing a few branches and logs on the way, but he knew they wouldn’t amount to much.

“I had one job,” James sighed, aprehending the dissapointment his team would feel seeing his meager provisions. He shivered briefly before starting the slightly uphill trek, the short walk back suddenly seeming like a cross-country expedition.

Chapter Second [sneak peak]

The order of my story is still in the works, please bear with me while I organize my chapters logically!

Twelve iron bars, 3 concrete walls, and two barely visible cracks. This was what Grace stared at for a total of 36 hours, if she had counted that right. She wasn’t quite sure herself; she’d taken a nap and everything when hazy from there. She wasn’t even sure if she was still counting.

Her cell was rather spacious, but painfully bare. As a cell should be, she supposed, but still obnoxiously bare. She was the only prisoner, and the lone guard was so stoic Grace was afraid he would turn to stone if he stayed only a while longer. There wasn’t much to do, except but wonder where the heck she’s gone so desperately wrong?

From what she gathered, she’d eavesdropped -”overheard” would be a better term, in Grace’s opinion- on a seemingly private conversation, gotten caught in the act, and chased down for it. The King’s son himself had personally put her into Royal Custody, but all for what? What had she heard? She could barely recall the content of the exchange: her focus had been on the men’s unknown faces and their too-obvious grubby clothes. Grace knew everyone, she’d been born and raised in the village. At least two of these men were not from the area, which had triggered her curiosity in the first place.

Grace sighed for the upteenth time that day as she slid down to a sitting positing, her back resting against the cot. She lifted a hand to her stomach, feeling a loud and deep grumble there. As if on cue, the girl heard steady, rhythmic steps echo down the hall.

A guard in uniform appeared before her cell, his calm demeanor triggering Grace’s nerves. Her eyes fell to the tray of steaming food he was balancing easily on one arm, while his other hand grasped for his keys. He nodded over his shoulder at the posted guard, and Grace nearly gasped when he moved from his seemingly frozen position. He nodded curtly to the newly arrived guard, apparently his superior.

“I thought you might be getting hungry,” the blonde guard spoke, his gaze steady through the iron bars.

Grace recognized his voice immediately. He was one of the men involved in the conversation she had overheard near the marketplace. His golden blonde hair, his rather small frame and noble stance, she recognized, were those of the shortest of the two strangers. Apprehension bubbled inside of her.

“How am I to know you aren’t trying to poison me?” Grace tried carefully, not quite sure which attitude would be most to her advantage. From all she knew, this man could order someone to get rid of her or lock her down here for a very, very long time. She was not to get on his bad side, if that wasn’t already the case.

Something flashed across the man’s face, not quite a smirk, and his pale grey eyes briefly lit up.

“If His Highness wanted to get rid of you, he wouldn’t be keeping you locked down here, now would he?” he replied, cocking his head slightly. Grace relaxed a bit at the guard’s easy and relaxed attitude.

“I suggest you eat while it’s warm.”

He held out the small tray with one hand, and Grace took it with both of hers, not trusting her shaky hands. It had indeed been a while since her last meal.

“Thank you... sir.” she wasn’t sure how to address him.

“Cade.” he made a move towards the iron bars, retreating from the cell. “And it’s my pleasure.”

Grace was so taken aback by the undeserved kindness, that she just watched him leave silently. He could easily have disregarded her and treated her coldly, but instead, he had brought her a warm meal and answered at least one of her questions, all the while knowing absolutely nothing about her.

Just as swiftly as he had come, Sir Cade retreated from the holding cell and locked it again. Grace watched his blonde hair swirl with the sudden rush of wind when he opened the outside door, and as the guard exited the holding area, her world appeared even dimmer than it had before. She’d just gotten an opening, an opportunity to get at least a few of her questions answered, but she’d let it slip through her fingers.

It pulls at your heartstrings. A musician directing the orchestra that is your body. Cannot be defined as joy and is not quite like sadness either. Much like an old couple resting on a park bench. So beautiful yet upsetting. It starts in the cavity of your chest and cascades through every inch of your being. Just as a river flowing gracefully down a valley.

That feeling.

Clear but complicated. Felt by all but never given a name. Often described using euphoria, nostalgia, infinity, weightless or maybe even weighty. However, that cannot be. For the unsettling sensation would leave. An emotion with a missing identity. A justice never rendered. Until then, it shall be that feeling.

I went for a stroll tonight

And I stopped and stared at field

There was a small black cat walking by

it hobbled in the uneven earth

pitty-patter of paws on the dry

brown and yellow dirt

There was a flock of geese flying by

poking through the lazy clouds

their strange familiar cries

so beautiful and loud

young and tender green sprouts

tiny animals leaping about

fallen tall autumn grass

Making the field the colour of brass

It was quiet

And I was at peace

Chapter First (sneak peak)

The order of my story is still in the works, please bear with me while I organize my chapters logically!

Every single ounce of his being was tweaked to perfection. From the trained, noble way he stood, to the shimmery gold engravings of his waistcoat, the whole of his appearance fervently rivaled the fear and uncertainty lacing his insides like a mounting fire. But he would not let these childish and unacceptable feelings show, for James Trenton was royalty, no less. And with royalty came the impossibility of exhibiting anything other than pristine perfection.

And so there he stood, an image of quiet submission, waiting for it all to be over. He willed the Baron, Sir Ethan Kalloway, to wrap up his public talk, but the deluge of words would not stop flowing.

“I’m sorry, he never does stop, does he? Here, have some of this.” the Baron son whispered, slightly nudging James' elbow.

“Where did you find this?” James whispered back, gladly peeling his stare off of the Baron to peer at the small recipient his friend was holding.

“Not sure. Keeps your mouth busy though, so you don’t fall asleep listening to my old man.”

James repressed a light chuckle, seeing the young man’s black-stained tongue when he spoke. Whatever sweet he was eating was surely inappropriate for an event of the sort, but Aiden Kalloway probably had no idea. Even if he did, James doubted he would give it a second thought.

“I’m quite alright, thank you.”

With a shrug, Aiden popped another piece of candy in his mouth and sighed dramatically as his father navigated the final leg of his speech. James glanced around the room, wondering if the other guests were as good as he was at hiding their boredom, of if any of them truly had any interest in these trivial matters.

***

Though it took the royal servants nearly a whole hour to set the Prince up for public appearances, getting undressed was a matter of mere seconds.

James tore out of his stifling garments, exhaling only once he was back in his private quarters. Public appearances were the bane of his existence, even though he could never dream of showing it. But being the sole successor to the throne, Prince James Trenton was required to attend more social events than could reasonably fit into one’s schedule. The King was set on making him as visible as possible.

“Relationships, he would repeat, are as valuable an asset as all the gold in the world.”

But James would much rather wander the Kingdom -building aforementioned “relationships” with his people- than attend such prestigious soirées along with the court’s noblest and wealthiest people.

However, the lavish parties were abruptly pushed to the back of his mind, as a knock came at the door.

“Your Highness? Is there anything special you would care for me to prepare? The usual is already set up and ready to go at dawn.” Jame’s personal guard informed him from the corridor.

“That’ll be plenty, Philip.”

James let himself fall back onto his bed, apprehension and disgust swarming him as he thought of the day ahead.

I thought I had it all

The time in the world

But suddenly I’m faced with this wall

The days are getting old

Pretending like nothing fazed

For everything I’ve ever known

Down in flames

All I ever could of owned

Pictures I’ll never take

Goodbyes I’ll never give

All the smiles, fake

Can I ever forgive?

For this life I couldn’t pick

This ongoing chapter

Isn’t ending quick

Faster and faster we are reaching after