All Luminous Over the Rain

The poem All Luminous Over the Rain was penned by Jasmine Seeker as she walked the long roads to the Tin Sun Kingdom and set her eyes upon the Night’s Slave, a notorious pirate vessel docked in town.

All Luminous Over the Rain

So dark within the fog
I enjoy damp vampires about the air
Alass, Alack! The feeling will go
All dazzling on the wind
We divine wanting bugs before the sky
Ahhh! The thought is dying
All luminous over the rain
I breathe red gems below the earth
Awaken! The Fool is going
flickering nameless
blurring at the edges
an unreliable map
In whose arms
the lover
chase his dream
not knowing why

 

A list of some fabulous colors seen on the walk to the Tin Sun Kingdom.

  • Antet – The yellow of charisma and of amber in one’s fears.
  • Nedemsyta – A bleached green. Used to write about sloth.
  • Jatiraun – A vibrant blueish-green. Paintings using this color stop insanity.
  • Runorpe – The orange of amber that can only be imagined. It is the color of things that cannot be put out of your mind.
  • Ande – The red of disgust and of rust.
  • Ochse – A sickly reddish-orange. Paintings using this color invite happiness.
  • Elve – A sober yellow. Ink of this color is used only for forbidden occult writing.
  • Plea – The green of laughter and of lied about seaweed.
  • Cofreiene – A washed-out yellowish-orange. Used to write about doubt. Things written in this color can be seen out of the corner of your eye after you read them.
  • Iute – The yellow of sunlight. The color of both unforeseen insights and of forgetfulness.

Jamine Ravenrange – There is No Imperfect Marble

Jasmine Ravenrange is a force to reckon with.

This antisocial lady has almond-shaped purple eyes that are like two windows on the evening sky. Her fine, straight, green hair is short and is worn in a severe, simple style. She has a feminine build. Her skin is china-white. She has knobby ears. Her wardrobe is businesslike and plain, with a mostly gray and white color scheme.

Jasmine is best known for her epic poem, There is No Imperfect Marble.

There is No Imperfect Marble

You are the mango of my wounded eye
a fog of rituals
man of the depths of my finger – your shining!
Stills your steady regard as though it were lightning
not the deep brown moment
when the sunrise preserves the bells,
if you were not the cheesecake the somber moon
cooks, sprinkling its orange across the field
This insatiable defender and treading snow prosecutes me
with it’s resolute clusters like nose and brain
and red pencils like hand and dew,
a current of celestial old warrior’s medal.
That does not know why it flows and blossoms.

A cinnamon necklace attracts
as if to crush or promise or pitty!
Pockets of rusted nail converted into saphire
and you’ll ask why doesn’t his poetry,
light of pencils and farms
and the homogeneous corals of his native land?

Come with me to the shadow of wounded soldiers
the cordial waves petrified
The rectum rises on its bitterest mare.
Rustling transparent threads over the land.

 

 

A Few More Hilton Vazquez Poems

I shared some Hilton Vazquez poems last month. Here are a few more.

Stormy

Stormy, clear seashells swiftly love a sunny, big sun.
The big seashell calmly fights the wind.
The captain waves like a big mainland.

Misty Windows

All doors buy fast, misty windows.
Grimy, small cars loudly desire a grimy, noisy girl.
Dry, hot cigarettes calmly shove a dead, cold cigarette.

What if…

Alexander the Great lived at the same time as Ed Wood?
…Buddha switched places with Mao Tse Tung?
…Harun Al-Rashid was connected to Cormac Mac Airt by forbidden knowledge?
…Lee Harvey Oswald had access to androids?
…the ‘British Invasion’ of music involved novelists?
…the Spanish Revolution involved virtual reality?
…the fall of Mankind from the Garden of Eden had never happened?
…the fall of Rome involved radio?
…the fall of Satan involved forbidden knowledge?
…the first transatlantic flight involved interstellar travel?

A Selection of Hilton Vazquez Poems

Here is a selection of poems penned by the great Hilton Vazquez, who wrote an ode to Evangeline Hammond entitled, All Vaporous Under the Sea.

The following three poems, entitled Quite Peaceful Beneath the Ground, Strangely Green Among the Trees, and So Scary Under the Earth, were written during Hilton’s youth. Scholars believe they were all written as love letters to his romantic interest at the time, Lady Wynne Reece.

He was raised near Adrua and had copious amounts of time to write once the harvest had passed.

Quite Peaceful Beneath the Ground

Sinful and murky behind the bullshit
We ensnare flying tentacles among the earth
Heavy! The end has fled
So big over the virgin
I poke violet claws beyond the sky
Beware! The fun must continue
Quite peaceful beneath the ground
I prod electric eyes before the air
Be aware! The lust felt good
wary awake
out of control
something missing
In whose heart
your brother
go without luggage
trying to remember

Strangely Green Among the Trees

Weird and misty behind the air
We invoke dark rubes against the mud
Intense! The night has come
All sticky beneath the virgin
You command splintering sensations under the flock
Atone! The Fool continues
Strangely green among the trees
You enjoy misty delusions below the shadows
I reach! The thought is fleeing
shadowed nameless
trying to recall
an unreliable map
With what regrets
my friend
take another road
never knowing how

So Scary Under the Earth

Sinful and humming under the dreamscape
You expel bright disasters on the clouds
Awaken! The demon is gone
All peaceful near the water
I find murky tongues beneath the light
Take cover! The feeling was good
So scary under the earth
I squeeze odorous witches about the rain
Beware! The bitch is vanishing
wavering fighting back
not understanding
any wind that blows
In whose arms
the hero
come singing
trying to remember

Tiny Land - Yelling

Nindrol Petleth in Rissingshire Keep

Nindrol Petleth was a fair elf maiden that dwelled in the Northern reaches, near the river Tola. Like most of the Elven-folk, she preferred to spend her days and nights in the outdoors, but as a friend to Humans, she made many visits to Rissingshire Keep, and enclave in the North.

She wrote about it in her journal (for many Elves kept travel journals), and described Rissingshire Keep during one of her visits:

Narrow braziers encompassing each of the fourteen marble columns light up the entire throne hall and bathe the hall in a dancing glow of orange. The intricately carved woodwork hanging from the oblique ceiling dance in the flickering light while stone effigies and gargoyles look down upon the obsidian floor of this glorious hall.

A magenta rug splits part of the room in half from the throne to midway down the hall while winged banners with adorned ridges drape from the walls. Between each banner , almost all of them have been lit and in turn illuminate the statuettes of conquerors and victors below them.

Modest, stained glass windows depicting ancient legends are enclosed by draperies colored the same magenta as the banners. The curtains have been adorned with emblazoned edges and impressive needlework.

A great throne of oak sits behind a lavish gate of gilded wood and is adjoined by two similar, but smaller seats for visiting royalty of other nations.

The throne is covered in hundreds of elaborate images and fixed on each of the front legs is a crystal moon. The bulky pillows are a light magenta and these too have been adorned with gilded fringes.

Those awaiting to be heard by their royal highness can do so on the countless impressively carved brass benches, all of which are facing the throne in a wide V-shape. Those of higher standing can instead take seat in the gorgeous balconies facing the benches below.

Woman outside a castle

 

Princess Fiona of the Emberwild

Princess Fiona of the Emberwild liked dragons and riddles.

It is rumored that she once encountered an ancient green dragon while searching for treasure in a lair deep beneath the dark mountains of Baranur.

Upon waking the dragon, she challenged it to a game of riddles, knowing the the smug and superior dragon would not be able to resist. She gave it the first turn.

It smiled a sickly and mean smile and then in a deep booming voice it uttered,

“A leathery snake with a stinging bite, coiled up I wait until I must fight. What am I?”

Princess Fiona thought for a moment, never taking her eyes of the villainous beast. It was not to be trusted.

The answer quickly came to her like the first rays of the morning sun.

“A whip!” she cried in delight. “The answer is, ‘a whip!'”

The huge dragon scowled with disgust, for Princess Fiona was correct.

It was her turn now. She was prepared with a favorite.

“Lives without a body, hears without ears, speaks without a mouth, to which the air alone gives birth.”

The great dragon grew quiet and carefully pondered the riddle. Time seemed to stand still.

More seconds passed, then minutes. Princess Fiona waited patiently.

Finally, the dragon spoke.

“I must forfeit, fair maiden. For I cannot determine the answer to your riddle.”

Princess Fiona’s eyes grew wide with excitement at outsmarting the foul beast. She quickly exclaimed, “The answer is, ‘an echo.”

The dragon smiled again. “A delicious riddle, fair maiden.”

And then the dragon ate Princess Fiona.

 

 

The Musings of Nona Wilcox

Little is known of Nona Wilcox, who spent her days wandering the empty beaches near the seaside village of Caelkirk, which was dangerously close to the pirate outpost of Rum Isle on the Eastern Shores of Tiny Land.

Nona was a quiet young woman who reveled in the solitude of long, aimless wandering along the beaches and broken shoreline.

Nona Wilcox - Tiny Land

Whilst wandering, she was taken to simple thoughts. Her favorite game to play by herself was, “What if?” It was a game that gave her time to consider many different possibilities of the mysteries of chance and consequence.

Among the many things she wondered. What if…

…Beowulf had been a police officer?
…Emmanuel Kant was deliberately responsible for the creation of Rock and Roll?
…Kublai Khan was like Plato?
Mao Tse Tung fought Harun Al-Rashid?
…Saint Dominic was inspired by Cormac Mac Airt?
…the Dark Ages happened after the arrival of the Pilgrims in America?
…the Opium War had never happened?
…everyone had a picture of Yoda on every screenshot they take on a Mac?

Her thoughts wandered further as the waves crashed upon the shore. It brought pause to her idle thoughts and instead inspired a song.

Totally dream-like over the fog
You examine huge shivas against the virgin
Oh God! The vision has gone
Dark and happy above the tomb
You dispel florescent meaning above the shadows
Oh God! The Knight must continue
Evil and hot within the spirits
We command arid symbols behind the air
Repent! The demon is no more
scared unsafe
not understanding
something missing
At how many harbors
your brother
turn aside
unable to stop.

 

A Passage for Buttercup

Another tale is told. Another poet grows old. This is the work of the fabled poet Sir Winston Pewter, who spun this tale while traveling in the Southern Wastes of Tiny Land.

It is an homage to a woman he only knew as Buttercup. It wasn’t her real name, and she left behind only mystery and intrigue.

Sir Pewter was in search of the fabled Nargins, who were known to inhabit the rock outcroppings near the Seven Prisons of the Bitter Ground of the Unborn. This vicious expansive domain was noted for its advanced agriculture and zoology. It was destroyed by social breakdown, leaving behind only monuments.

I am Grotesque Under the Towers

So luminous under the light
You invoke comely hands on the dream
Ahhh! The sin has fled
We are comely beneath the trees
You find vaporous ghouls beside the sky
Whoa! The Fool will die
I am grotesque under the towers
You summon happy tentacles over the virgin
Tighten up your wig! The sin will vanish
translucent nameless
lost in broad daylight
an empty address book
After how many voyages
the god
make his way
and find road-signs
To thee I promise,
my sweet Buttercup.

The Tragic Tale of Herminia Pickett

This poem tells the sad and tragic story of Herminia Picket of Westlebury, a small coastal village in the upper reaches of Tiny Land.

She was the daughter of a fisherman, and her entire family perished in a terrible flood. She stayed alone in the village for many years, but then wandered off into the wilderness, never to be seen in Westlebury again.

This poem, So flying under the light, was written by Beleleamus, who wrote many other poems, including this one about Alisha Atkinson.

So flying under the light

All sinning above the rain
We summon luminous icons about the shadows
Be watchful. The end is born
Evil and dark behind the wind
You grind heavy meaning before the flock
Tighten up your wig! The lust will vanish
So flying under the light
I gather dream-like claws among the clouds
Be wary! The insanity is gone
unsure unsafe
in the night
memories of water
In whose arms
the victim
seek the road back
remembering old times

The Tale of Alexandra Ebony Norton

It is said that Alexandra Ebony Norton was well-known amongst her peers in the Lady Dryad Confederation. And yet none of those who belonged could actually remember her face. Perhaps she stayed hidden amongst the shadows. We will never truly know.

In a pit there lived a snowy, dull ghost named Warwick Superhalk. Not an incredible blonde, important pit, filled with potions and a red smell, nor yet a short, urban, warped pit with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a ghost-pit, and that means shelter.

One day, after a troubling visit from the quiet witch Alexandra Ebony Norton, Warwick leaves his pit and sets out in search of three spiky coins. A quest undertaken in the company of youths, wizards and ruddy elves.

In the search for the robot-guarded coins, Warwick Superhalk surprises even himself with his resourcefulness and skill as a gardener.

During his travels, Warwick rescues a hat, an heirloom belonging to Alexandra. But when she refuses to try jogging, their friendship is over.

However, Alexandra is wounded at the Battle of Four Armies and the two reconcile just before Warwick engages in some serious jogging.

Warwick accepts one of the three spiky coins and returns home to his pit a very wealthy ghost.