This page contains various poems I’ve written over the ages. They concern many things that interest me: the nature of humanity, the power of a fantasy, and sometimes, my own nature. Many of the poems contain themes that have affected me personally—sexuality, loss, and so on.
Feel free to comment on any of them. Feedback is much appreciated!
The name of my novel is not used in vain: this poem is about Neshvetal, the Necromancer. It is about his tragedy, his loss; his spiral into a darkest abode of most perfidious magic. He is a lost being. The death of his lover festered within him until no more than a sad parody remained—his ultimate destruction.
There is a message to be drawn from this, and for once I shall abandon subtlety and say it. Do not allow loss, and anger, to claim your life. You will not like what you become.
If you happened to wonder, ‘Is there hope for him?’ then fear not. There is hope, but only in true death. If you wish to know more—you’ll have to ask nicely for a sequel.
The Lady and the Dragon
At over 2000 words, and nigh five hundred stanzas, the Lady and the Dragon is without doubt my longest work so far. But to answer why it is so remarkably long, one need look at what it is: a fairytale. It describes the journey of Lady Stella, and how she comes to lose her faithful dragon—to a cruel prince and his vicious wants. But the poem is not some sad elegy, some epic foretelling the end of all that is good. No; not at all. For the Lady does defeat the wretched prince and his conniving master; and so too does the Dragon come to life. If you want to know how, or why, well—you’d best read the poem.
PS: for a deeper analysis into its works—and to address questions you likely have, on whether the poem is a metaphor for other things—take a look at its debut post.
A Fool’s Hope
This little gem was written for the Ark, my Sci-Fi novel come LGBT romance concoction. It is somewhat metaphorical: it concerns an unnamed narrator’s desire to meet his lover, who must brave the wraith of a mean-spirited forest; it is no great mystery, indeed, to imagine what this may relate to. Though brief, it expresses the crux of the problem quite simply.
Its name is Norse for ‘great ice castle’—and it is indeed based on that mythology, though some liberties have been taken. It concerns Aslaug, the exiled God; former Queen of man; and Dark Muse. In her dark abode, she dreams of regaining her former power; of taking her rightful place, among man and god.
For a more detailed overview, take a look at its debut post. Otherwise, enjoy. Only—don’t walk on thin ice...
Seeking Love (or: A Norse Tale)
This particular poem was written as part of the Ark. Its message is simple: to find love, you need not look long and far. In fact; it may even be standing right next to you… (If you wish to know more—see its debut.)
The Fallen Saga
This is currently my first (and only) Saga. The work is not one poem; rather, it is a multitude—all form the basis for a loose narrative.
It would be misleading to call this a tale—certainly, any modern interpretation of distinct individual characters with unique personalities, clearly defined roles and robust plot would struggle to fit this.
Perhaps you ought think of it as a ‘descriptive fairtytale’. Or, you can call it a poetic saga. It’s a tad pretentious, but that’s okay.
Anyway: it’s about angels. Good ones, and bad ones; a chorus of light and dark. Presently,
two three episodes have been written: Peace, the End of the Innocence; and the Darkness Arisen.
A few things to look out for: literal metaphors. (Yes, I know it’s an oxymoron; shoot me why don’t you?) Take, for example:
Gaze upon their airy marble wings—
So empyrean; so perfect, as if
They had not the same Creator.
The angels do in fact have real wings of light and air—the purpose of ‘airy marble wings’ (aside from the charming oxymoron) is to invoke the connotations of marble: elegant, grand, and hard as, well, rock. You need not guess the meaning of that.
Anyway, come back to this. More is coming.
The Lover’s Curse
This poem—written in a dramatic fusion of hexameter and rhyme—aims to question ideas and biases about sexuality, gender, and what love really is.
Most of all, its aim is to make you feel. For while some may think emotion anaethema to thinking—surely logic and feeling are mutually exclusive—in reality lots of people won’t do the thinking till they start doing the feeling.
God the Sun
You’ve always though the sun as your saviour, have you not? Who, after all, brings you life, and light?
It sounds awfully similar to a God. Trouble is, the sun brings drought too...
The vampire is a strange poem; I wrote on a bit of an impulse. It’s inspired by the Thirst novels (by Christopher Pike), and is meant to showcase the feelings I felt were most prominent in the main character.
Additionally, the poem aims to highlight a problem with humanity: our tendency to delude ourselves into thinking we can live forever, and why doing so may not be quite the brilliant idea we think it to be.
This poem isn’t really about magic, or even what it represents (for it does represent art primarily—not that my works ever evade the literal).
This is about inequality.
Is it fair for kings to lavish in luxury; and for those unfortunate to languish in despair? Is it fair to wield power beyond what an ordinary human can hope to achieve?
All questions to be answered another time. For now, let us read...
This is about war. And not the one of yesteryear: but the one to be. The events ineluctably shaped by our nature. Question is: can we change it?
Read The Mirror
Is it the whispers of perfidious zephyrs? Is it the rustle in leaves of belief; or is it the magic of the stars?
It is the stranger that walks among us all; it is the fear of the unknown, and of the forgotten ones. Death. Our greatest vice, or the only god there is?
This poem does not take a positive view of it. It is you who must decide: shall we fight it through knowledge, or embrace it in madness?
This is about art. It is about creation; perfection; and the realms of human possibility.
Every artist desires perfection; every creator wishes to bequeath ultimate existence to their vassals. Alas, we are but human—and so we stain our art; perfection becomes but a dream of our inner mind.
And yet, we do art no disservice. For the magic of art cannot be caught by perfection alone. Art’s greatest gift... is in experience. And if we—selfishly—choose to confine it to our minds, we cannot really be called artists at all.
The TreesThis unusual poem is about a collective entity of Trees and their dramatic soliloquy about how they are the masters of nature, and of the universe. The Trees are actually mirroring some of the fallacies that humans subscribe to—a belief that they are immortal; impervious to bad luck; and that the world belongs to them.
The Lovers on the Mountain
I’m not entirely sure what exactly this poem is. It’s a little different from my others, for one; it’s lighter, happier and much more nonchalant. I believe it is about the nature of reality—and whether it matters. I’ll tell you more once I figure it out.
EDIT: I think that... a reality may be false; but that’s okay. Sometimes, you need one. Sometimes, happiness—even an ephemeral, incited one—can be just what you need to see what is real.Read on Google Drive
Blood Red Love
This poem was submitted to the Missouri Review. It’s about a girl, her life-altering transformation into a vampire, and her unfortunate demise. (You can tell what a happy poet I am.)
The poem aims to try and display the nature of teenage love; and also, how it can prevail even when struck down by terrible, supernatural events. It’s quite dark: I don’t think that comes as a surprise!
The Summer Days
This is a poem about the power of summer, and indeed the power of a season. In this, summer gains an almost personified, quantified existence; a classic form of elemental poetry.
And yet, this isn’t a poem about the elements, or about their manifestations as gods. This is about people. And delusion. The summer days reveals how good times can possess us; how it can gain control of us, and how totally without meaning it can become. The message is simple: do not lose yourself in good times, or in their memories. Rarely is there an autumn to bring you back.
The Water Tower
This poem was submitted to the Power of Poetry competition, held by Young Writers. It has subsequently been published in that anthology: you can check it out at Amazon. (It should be published on the 31st March 2014.)
EDIT: Young Writers seem to have been rather lax in their publishing efforts. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
The poem is actually very complex and metaphorical. It is a dramatic monologue of Arkanya, the representative of the oppressed, and the fighter for freedom. The Tower represents Order and Social Construct. The Citizens are the mainstream: their Tower oppresses those inside; but likewise, the Tower controls them, and kills anyone of them that shows signs of being different.‘He’ is a representation of humanity’s evil side.
Under the Old Tree
This poem was written, like so many others, with an image in my head: that of the old tree, immersed in sunlight. I’d say imagery is a powerful component of poetry, and indeed can be the root of a poem’s premise; however, that’s a discussion for another time.
The Old Tree can represent the protector in our lives; the place we go to in times of need. The narrator is of unspecified gender: I think this needs to be clarified, because it might escape some people. The poem’s final message is quite simple—but I think I’ll let you figure it out.
HeavenThe name of the poem is used in irony; the poem is in fact a critique of Abrahamic religion. It aims to show the double standards of it, and how very pernicious its paragons are. I shall say no more, for it should be able to speak for itself.
The MarchThis is a dark, metaphorical poem; it is about life as a whole, and its Sisyphean futility; or, perhaps, how we as a species tend to strive towards a goal—usually an unachievable one—and forget about the rest of our life. I do not think it is hard to guess what the desert and the tower represent: the hardship of life, and the impossible goal.
Other Poems that may Interest You
Colour, Colour: it’s cute.
Lost Love—my first real poem.
The Little Boy: a poem about being gay.
The Maiden and the Lake—following your dreams.
The Pianist: another cute poem.
Essence. An idea on what art is, made poem.
This page has been updated to include a new poem I have made available, along with some re-arranging and description to better reflect the importance of the poems. Some other minor changes have been made. This page will continue to be updated regularly (or at least, as regularly as poor old me can do it); new poems are usually given an intro with a blog post as well, so using this blog’s search bar will usually get you more detail for a poem.