#poetember

Maybe in the future it would be true what he says, That today is just one in an infinity of todays, And space and time is one and the same, Who knows one day he’d deserve the fame?

But as of today such is not our truth, Time is a brute, And the space between us cannot be glued. Celestial bodies themselves in between us, stood.

And so if all we had was today, To touch, to feel, to say, That the minute you walked into my everyday, Time stopped, space ceased, everything was okay. 

If all we had was today, To be together, joy or fray, Then I would return to that tree by the stoneway, And we’d clash swords and minds and words, (Because fighting is our only way, to speak the words we could not say)

If all we had was today, Then I’d treat it like it was everyday, For the beauty of being with you was in the way, Your smile would chase the gray away. 

And when the time comes for you to say farewell, I’d remember the joy your smile did tell, And the way your hands felt against mine, In that first fateful high-five of thine. 

There was once a knight in tales and lore, The lion of the Rock was the name he bore, With his golden hair and golden armor, It is told he remained true to a vow he once swore.

Protect the innocent, obey your king, The whole realm celebrated his being, Young and strong, with confidence gleaming, Who would have thought the king he’d end up killing?

There was once a Kingslayer in whispers and lore, Oathbreaker was the name he shamely bore, He had golden hair, and blood tainted armor, Never trust any vow he swore.

Very little else is known about him, Except one day he mysteriously vanished, Old and crippled, on a long cold winter, It was told he pursued the maiden knight he once rescued.

There were once two knights in tales and lore, The Maiden Knight and Goldenhand, were the names they bore, She had golden hair, and a gifted armor It is told she was loved by her golden handed lover.

Her sword bore his sigil, rubies and gold, It’s name was Oathkeeper, or so we’re told. In the long winter, he gave her a sword, When no woman was given the accord.

For though he was but a Kingslayer, It was her, who redeemed him and his honor, No knight more valiant or true, Her eyes lit with sapphire blue.

And though no beauty could be seen on her face, It was said he looked at her as if she was all the stars in space. Through the long winter she was the realm’s protector The light bringer, the Night King’s army she had brought asunder.

There was once a fisherman who lived on an island, He was old and crippled, with only one hand. With him was the island’s Evenstar, who was as tall as giants, Her only beauty was her eyes, as blue as the waters, Of the Sapphire Isle.

Wow I’m behind on posting these. End of the month already.

Lying silent in an unmade bed staring at the numbers on your phone One voice echoing in your head

rattling on about being alone Something topples in the next room crash bells out a warning tone

then goes quiet as a tomb those aren't footsteps in the hall those aren't shadows in the gloom

That isn't a rapping at the wall And that most assuredly is not A figure rising tall

Dial 911, your paralyzed thought But no movement makes a spark like some victim in a horror plot

Remind yourself there's nothing there to remark Midnight paranoia turns to dread Remember, there's no terror in the dark

It began with a flying cockroach, Through our open window it began it’s approach, Breaking the silence between us as we worked on our laptops, Across from each other on bunk beds with flat tops.

You screamed first, And of course I followed with haste, To this day I still have no idea how we jumped down the ladder, And screamed together until we were rescued by the cleaner.

And that was it, we were the best of friends, How could we not be after facing that fiend. And together we faced the freshman rush and party, We realised who wants fraternity when we had sorority?

Two became three about two weeks later, New pledges coming in, the more the merrier. You ate on the floor, your table a plastic box container, And we started chatting about Harry Potter.

Soon the three of us were on the floor, Talking about Tai Chi, and milk tea, and singing through the door, There’s running and elbows rubbing and as with 16 year old freshies: boys. Oh. My. Goodness. Did we talk about boys.

We were the girls of six-one-seven, We were as different as different can be even, Our shared love for books and cult movies, And of course staying in Tridelta territories, Bonded us together, sisters in more than theory.

And now here we are seven years later, On the road to getting the dreams we always sought after, We may be miles and oceans apart, But we gaze upon the same stars, our souls connected through art.

Wherever we may go, whoever we may be, A part of us will always be the three girls who walked miles for milk tea, The three girls who loved to order Jollibee, While crying over Celeste and Jesse.

A part of us will always be, the three girls who went home at three, Laughing and dancing, always carefree, The conyo increasing as we get a little less alcohol free, Gossiping by the bar like a bunch of old aunties.

I find my heart has a proclivity, For the maidens and knights who dwell in anonymity, The history books forgot about their identity, The Rosalind’s of the twenty-first century. Second leads, to hold up the plot’s integrity, The real heroes of my story.

There’s Eowyn, shieldmaiden of Rohan, Warrior and knight, she fearlessly rode to Minas Tirith, And in the fields of Pelennor, said that she was no man, To the King of the Nazgul and cost his spirit. Still Aragorn deemed it was not her he wanted, Rather chose the Elvish princess who did nothing but whine while she waited.

There’s Eponine of the musical and not of the novel, A friend in the shadows, loving on her own, It was not in her nature to beg or to grovel, And in her last moments her heart won out, much to our sorrow. She gave Marius the letter, Asked him to live life better.

There’s Brienne the Blue, Maid of Tarth, Touched by both Maiden and Warrior, Nothing can be truer than her heart, One seeking to be the knight of legends and lore, To Ser Jaime, she’s a compass, pointing true North, And still she’s second to the woman with whom he was born.

All he wanted was to fly, See the sun, and feel it’s warmth, So he made himself wings, That he may know the sun.

But wings are dreams, Stitched together by the glue of our heart’s desires, Allowing us to fly when the moon is high, And the time is for dreaming.

But wings are dreams, Just our imagined fleeting hopes and dreams,  That melt and burn and turn to dust, Against the blazing warmth of a sun once loved.

Fly too close,  Our mere invention, Wings that he thought would bring him close, Turns to ash and down he falls.

It starts with an exposition, As with every musical creation, It starts with a green and pink foam brush, And the room is overcame with a hush.

It starts with the kismet, A damsel and the knight heaven beget, Coincidence and incidence,  Time for once in the astronomer’s confidence.

The inevitable conflict, A singular cup the witch doth inflict, For two foam brushes that will have to see, The monstrous inside of the villain in our story. (Mouths, for this I am sorry)

The zenith fast approaches, After an intermission made up of giggles and blushes, Hands touch, eyes meet, Sudden silence, sudden heat, The chorus enters, The spotlight centers, Foam brushes with the bitter taste, Of sodium bicarbonate.

Darkness then engulfs our stage, The last note rings, it’s the end of an age, We blink our eyes, once mesmerized, The spell is broken, we break apart from the fantasized.

And now the question, We await with bated trepidation, Is it the hopeful comedy, Or that drasted tragedy? (Will they be forever star crossed, or will they finally be?)

The stage lights turn on, We see our damsel on her own, Pavement shining like silver, Lights misty in the river.

In her hands a lone green brush, Gone is the knight, gone is the blush, What is left is the bitter memory in her tongue, Of sodium bicarbonate and tears that have sprung.

And we the viewer go home with heavy hearts, Not expecting the musical to end with them apart, And we remember that at the very start, There was a green and pink foam brush, And all the possibility of a love to flourish.

And isn’t that the way of the greatest love stories every told? Elphaba and Fiero known for defying gravity and being bold, Eponine and Marius, connected only by a little fall of rain, Angelica and Alexander, never satisfied, always a sad refrain.