poefeathyr

[poefeathyr]

Things That Grow in the Dark

Hopeful, unseen caresses

At dead of night

When no one sees

But you and me

Cast a light on a shadowed heart

Blinded by painful memory

You are true to the touch

Were I truly blind

I would no longer need to see

My unguided hand knows you

Agony

To wait through the day

Each fingertip aching

Silent utterances

That spark

In me anew

A flame not yet fanned

Passions unbridled

In the twilight hours

Speak not with words

Let all whispers fall silent

No more can words express

That which grows in the dark

[poefeathyr]

So, there is a story behind this picture. This is an image depicting an item I gave to one of my players my most recent session of D&D. This is an image of a wood carving of a bird coated in a glossy resin-like substance with eyes made of jet (50gp each lol). Underneath the pedestal is the carved phrase "I want to live". This is because the character I gave this to had essentially died the previous session (knocked to -12hp), the character was a little rough around the edges to say the least. Originally the player was going to roll up a new character but to his surprise, everyone was really sad and really wanting his character to say. So he decided that he was going to try to reform his character and I agreed his character could live. The start of this recent session I brought out Nightingale, in my lore he is sort of a God of Grief and a ferryman. He explained that the character by all accounts should be dead but that someone wanted him to live so terribly that Nightingale wondered if it was worth giving him a chance. At first he told him that he wouldn't take him if he promised he'd change his ways and be a kinder, more considerate person. But that didn't work, the character said that he'd been so bad that nothing he could do would change the fact that there was nothing good waiting for him when he died. Nightingale went back and forth with the character before leveling with him. He's one of the elder Champions of my world, a man who has lived lifetimes and seen untold tragedies, he knows the fear of dying all too well. Finally he told him to forget focusing on being nicer, instead it was more important that he valued the life he had. Nightingale told this character "If you don't want to live, tell me right now and I will take you with me. Someone wants you to live but I'll listen to what you want. Otherwise, forget about being kinder, if you want to live all you have to do is tell me right now 'I want to live'." And the character said he wanted to live, before it was obvious he was being flippant and not taking things seriously but in that moment he was being genuine. So when he woke up back in his body, he was holding this carving as a reminder.

[poefeathyr]

The Stranger

You've changed a lot but so have I

Grown with the rising sun

In your journey the sky over

And I think I might know now

Who you are

You could be me

Old and young

All at once

Or you might be my old friend

Long lost

A memory

Just out of periphery

And knowing you is a gift

While others may call it a curse

Awareness...

Acceptance of you

Is peace

Yours is a careful hand atop mine

A comforting imprint sat on my bedside

A whisper to my sweat beaded brow

As sun sets to the deep night

[poefeathyr]

It's the Hoping that Hurts Me

It is often I think of you

I see through dusty rose eyes

What could have been

What ne'er been

What smiles may not have been there

Those kisses not yet planted

Seeds out of soil

Never allowed to grow

Memories I know

Lost but not buried

Treasures on ships

Not sunk

But sailing away

With each passing day

How I wish

They were torn asunder

Dashed upon the rocks

But I am blind

So as to not see the true you

I am deaf

So as to not hear my own cries

I am mute

So as to not tell you

[poefeathyr]

The Wanderer

He glances

To and fro

And he walks

A strut with purpose

But to an unknown destination

There are leads

Little, silver, strands of thread

Invisible to the naked eye

Ever walking, ever marching

Following the string

It’s almost random

Where will he end up?

Is he looking for something?

Someone?

Some little quiet town to rest?

No,

the silver threads are tear drops

Much like the banshee warns of tragedy

Her sorrowful screams echoing through the night

The strings lead only to ruin

Who can say what’s in his mind

What goal or purpose he may supply

Does he wish to stop the pain?

Is that among his abilities?

It seems he’s always just too late

The stars can be cruel

When dispensing their gifts

Would that he could prevent the Sorrow

Or get there before

He would say:

“Don’t forget to say goodbye”

“Live with no regrets”

“Tell them you love them”

All his teachings are whispers

He knows we are fragile

And he is too

An echo of our fragility, the damage time does

For he remembers each silver thread

Each tragedy

Each singular being affected

And yet he wanders

Always following the string

[poefeathyr]

Death of a Warrior

My son shant make it home

Thou called to him

And if thou art the Mourner

Then what be I?

The Griever

The Weeper

The Caller

Ye be of many names

And yet unto me

Thou art Death

A quiet lonely being

Praised and touted

A peacebringer

Long rung are the bells of war

Mine own ears ring with the sound

Yet thou brag thine haunting melody

A siren’s song

My boy gave his sword

And thou took his hand

Another entry in my series of poems about the Nightingale, enjoy!

[poefeathyr]

The Nightingale; Existentialism

Old friend,

we meet again

Been a long time coming

After all these years

The Caller sings my name

Like the song of a

Lone mournful bird

Its melody, 

bittersweet

But, when he calls

You have to heed

I’ve never seen him before

However…

He knows my name

And I know him too

He’s comparable

To waking in the morning

For no apparent reason

Early enough to watch the sun rise

Won’t be long now

Till it sets

You knew me well

And I’ve always had your name

Somewhere hidden away

We don’t like to think about

Things like that

Fragile beings that we are

Life in its infinite finitude

Do we treasure it enough?

Will the sums of our memories

Hold up against the vast future

As it continues on without us

Unhalting in its venture around the sun

Will my name be uttered in conversation

By people for years to come

Or will it cease to be as I have?

Who will remember me?

[poefeathyr]

The town goth has decided to leave her house! (With a new design) introducing Poe 2.0

[poefeathyr]

Introducing Poe and Withered Poe

[poefeathyr]

A beautiful raspberry/magenta haired lady. Her name is Silvania.

Painted in water color

[poefeathyr]

Unnamed Cherry Girl With Blue Hair, painted in Watercolor🍒

[poefeathyr]

My Rogue Bard, Jett. Painted with Watercolor, some details done with crayon

[poefeathyr]

Abandon me

Leave me to nature

Let my lungs fill with thorns and mildew

I will be forgotten by everyone but the silent world

A memory etched in soil

My bones dusted by a soft summer breeze

Let me be a castle overtaken by foliage

A darkening pond with no end

I wish to be a statue in the mud

Embraced by the earth and nature

I want to be a flower and bloom for no one but myself

I wish to divorce myself from sorrow

And the thoughts of you

And escape into nothingness

[poefeathyr]

The Blackberry Maiden, Painted in watercolor. I wish I had white out

[poefeathyr]

A slightly creepy Twilight Sparkle, painted with watercolor

[poefeathyr]

One of my favorite characters, colored with markers

[poefeathyr]

Please tell me I'm not cursed