Sick, but not out of action. And poems. Yeah…

Posted: March 11, 2013 in Details about my books, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,

No, don’t worry. I’m not going to start complaining about my sickness again. Instead, I’m going to post something I wrote about a year ago, I think. I wrote it for one of my numerous projects (the majority of which remain, unfortunately, incomplete), and it was a first. Since it was a poem.

I don’t know what you’ve gathered from me, but my prose… It’s admittedly not the best, you know? I won’t Wow everyone with my prose, and it may seem a bit simplistic to A LOT of people. But, it works. And I try to improve my writing as best as I can. So, I wrote a poem for the purpose of this story. Basically, a detective and a writer (Me? Conceited?) are trying to solve a case… which involves a creature whose first act is to bite the heads off of several ravens.

I hope you enjoy this. This was a first for me. Poems, from what I’ve gathered, take some serious wordsmithing. (That’s a word now…. in MY dictionary.)

And I wrote that on a whim. I haven’t actually edited it, and I didn’t really think when I wrote it. It may be awful to some people, and may be brilliant to ONE person. (And that person is related to me.)

But, here’s a piece of my more ambitious writings to help all of you stay cool while I’m sick.

 

Crows flew from the north,
And ravens flittered from the south,
Sweet bluejays tweeted their way from the east,
And flocks of pigeons gathered from the west,
And headed to the central point of their destination,
‘Twas their target not a forest made for their foraging,
Nor was it a place to settle and escape from winter’s cruel shadow,
But a place for them to be the Alphas,
Rather than Omegas, as they are usually treated;
Their cruelty knew no bounds when it came to this beast of their choosing,
And even the sweet bluejays sung songs of naught but cruelty,
For this was no ordinary beast,
But it was a wingless thing that only the foulest of sepulchers could give birth to,
And only the darkest of nights dare shroud,
For it had the body of a man, the beak of a raven, the talons of an eagle,
And no hair nor feather nor bristle to be found on its skin,
And for a thousand years, they sang their symphonies of mockery,
‘Till a cacophony rose from the bowels of the cave of whence the beast rested,
‘Twas the sound of pigs squealing, the ravens soon discovered from investigation,
And they crept close to the beast hidden in shadow,
And continued their songs of ghastly tales,
But what they found was not what they had expected,
And saw that the beast had feasted on pigs,
All too late, they realized, and attempted to flee,
And this horrible beast of legends struck out with a vicious beak,
And snapped the raven’s head cleanly off;
The gods were devastated,
At this act committed by a beast made for mockery,
And seven days and nights passed by,
And Seven Forbidden Acts committed,
Till judgement was passed from the Gods,
And the beast was sealed in a tomb deserving of its ghastly nature,
Firmly and permanently sealed for ages to come,
Till now…
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Comments
  1. C.Hill says:

    But…but…it doesn’t rhyme!

    • J.A. Romano says:

      I know, right? : )

      I am pretty sure I tried to rhyme it, though. I ended up with some stuff like:

      The dog watched over the herd,
      While a baby’s cries were not heard,

      I know. It’s brilliant. Don’t reply if you think so too.

  2. tktrian says:

    It’s very… sublime! This poem could exist in some of your fantasy manuscripts 🙂

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