ujmbled

Ok! I've had the idea for this poem for a while, never really got around to writing it down. Again, it's an abstract poem. I thought I'd try my hand at writing a tanka so this is what happened. Please comment! And be honest! I don't care if you hate it! I want to improve! 


ujmbled
jumbled my is brain
the understand I problem can't
maze because it's of words
you if unscramble but it
then really it's quite simple

Chanoro the Spirit of Winter

Autumn is almost over,
The trees are leafless and thin,
The mood is grey and dreary,
But then Chanoro comes.

The rain becomes swirling snow,
The ponds freeze into mirrors,
The grass becomes frosted and silvery,
The great Chanoro has come.

As children glance out of their windows,
Now topped with icicles shiny and slim,
They yell with glee and run to the winter wonderland,
Chanoro's work here is done.


Pyro.

Octaboona the Purple Poet

A figure stands silhouetted in front of the brightest light,
He is tall and poised elegantly and oh so wise,
He radiates peace and tranquil thoughts,
Of meadows and laughter and happiness.

His robes of purple shimmer and flow,
And as he takes a quill and writes a few words,
In flowing script, the world is shown,
An effortless masterpiece once again.

Octaboona the Purple Poet,
Finds hope when hope seems lost,
And he, the first and the greatest,
Is the spirit of wisdom, a shining star.



Pyro.

Kallista the Queenfisher

In a tranquil forest one sunny day,
A sudden flash of blue announces the arrival of a Kingfisher,
Now elegantly perched,
On the bow of a young sapling, a birch.

With a feathered coat of unmatched beauty,
Two shining eyes and a dainty little beak,
With wings like no other bird's.
Kallista the Queenfisher takes to the skies.

Swooping, diving, in an arial show,
Kallingfisher is joined by a boy,
With a castle of tinfoil atop his head,
Which she enters and marvels at it's grandeur.

Snug in a comfortable corner of the castle,
And drowsy from the day's flight,
Kallista the Queenfishter curls up in a ball,
And murmurs to the boy, 'Goodnight.'


Thanks for reading.

Pyro.

THE SKY IS BLUE

So I have a theme here. On my blog "Random, Much" I got some info from wiki on why the sky is blue. I'll write a story soon on that same topic (but with a huge difference on the explanation) but I need to eat breakfast first :P
For poetry... I wrote this poem:

The sky is blue, we all know it's true
The grass may be green or brown

But through and through, the sky is blue
In any city or town

At night, when the sun starts to rest its head

It explodes in reds and pinks
And after the sun goes to bed
It darkens, black as ink
But when the sun's up and burning bright
the sky remains one hue
A color that reappears after each night
The wonderful color of blue!
They explain it with science and technical terms
But to us its truly a simple thing
Some say that it's wavelengths  (some say giant worms)
But in our hearts the truth will ring
The sky is blue, through and through

Simply Rattling

 Alright, this was born from a few comments I left on Hellboy's blog when I was realizing and talking about how sometimes I comment really confusingly. 
Imagine the person telling you about this is CraZY [Er, no, don't imagine me...]
[See more at the end of the poem after you read it]


Confusing text,
Mind boggling words,
Baffled birds,
You are perplexed.

A comma there,
A hyphen here.
You must beware,
Of Mrs. Grier!

Her tongue she spins
In mischievous swirls!
She lures her foes
And pounces quick!

Too soon you're muddled;
You're quickly befuddled.
You're dazed and clouded;
You're simply confounded!

She was so cheery.
"That Mrs Grier's a Dearie!"
But you glanced away.
You're now unhinged, the least to say...

A little twist around the corner,
Strange words slipped into place,
And little commas took up space.
"I certainly did warn yer!"

But you didn't hear of Mrs Grier
Because you're laying by a bier,
And the coffin lid is closing.
So now begins your decomposing.


Author's note again
So yeah, the person is insane and was talking to a dead person. ~nods~
lol, like it?

The Nightmare

A boy, asleep, one night,
Is shaken by a fear,
A shadow, killing light,
Cuts through his dreams of deer.

It slashes through the mind,
With terrifying claws,
Then stops and starts to grind,
The fabric of the thoughts.

The shadow leaves the boy,
It floats to find one more,
Another braking toy,
Whose mind will soon be gore.

The nightmare rules the dark,
It's kingdom reaches far,
But soon will sing the lark,
As it sees the morning star.

When night time ends and all,
The people start to wake,
The nightmare, soon to fall,
Begins, with fear, to quake.

Vanquished by the sun,
The nightmare dissipates,
Into dust.