This is an early-ish attempt at poetry, and so is not one I’m likely to write today. It’s dark, it rhymes with a simple abcb pattern and uses iambic meter, it has a vaguely antiquated tone, and the subject is faeries.
Well, maybe it can find new life here. This is probably my closest thing to a “Halloween” poem.
Comments welcome!
Man of Braille
While walking through a field of wheat
a cloudless, listless night,
not far ahead the sky came down
and swelled the air with light --
a mass of seeding dandelions
caught up in a gale,
afloat, afire, like candle lights
hung as blazing hail.
I think, this is a wondrous show,
a marvelous display!
Once in a lifetime, never more,
and so I strode their way.
But listen up! No man may go
where stars have made their bed;
you may as well beguile the night,
or walk where demons tread.
A simple mind, I broke their midst
and found myself immersed
in seas of flaming, stolid eyes,
a foreign thing accursed.
Like soldier bees, the swarm compressed
to smother, stifle, drown;
stings and burns upon me rained,
my body beaten down.
My honor is to never die
surrendering to pain,
so wounded, tired that I was,
I fought as one insane.
My might crashed down, my fury raged
and faeries fell like flies
till every star around me lay
dead omens to the wise.
I’ve found moles are to fairies’ touch
the same as warts to toads;
so fathom my appearance now,
The Man of Braille and Codes.
I wonder, did they have an end,
am I a flag unfurled?
Or am I just the mass of scars
that killed the faerie world?