Tag Archives: tiny land

A Trio of Angels Dancing Upon the Waves

 

This poem, entitled A Trio of Angels Dancing Upon the Waves, was penned by the Dark Elf Fomadeun. He wrote it after making several unsuccessful attempts at generating a High Loop Destabilization upon the cliffs overlooking the ocean.

A Trio of Angels Dancing Upon the Waves

You are the grape of my arcane hips
you see hand as nocturnal as the drizzle
showered and then blushed in the jungle
a sensual drizzle of railroad tracks
and the salt to its foam
and among the clusters the decisive one
the daughter covered with noble window
the vertical elder.

Pacifies in the delicious morning
enchanting the crown of her echo full of tiredness
A farm upgrading will blossom
the starry lava of a planet
I saw how juices are half-opened
by the brandishing momentum?
With the thick sea water, many secure books
excited and then played in the field,
reflecting from naked glass
the water clear doves are trusted,
indicates the time’s developing hips.

In my universe at afternoon you are like a home
You light in the vicinity as in a handsome moonlight evening
delicate, gold kiss!

Sinful and Mournful Within the Sky

Sinful and Mournful Within the Sky was thought to be one of the lost poems of Warden Chaosbattler. But then he found it. It was right where he left it.

Sinful and Mournful Within the Sky

Sinful and rabid beneath the ground
You breathe hot hands on the air
Awake! The sin has come
So sticky against the light
I prod splintering goats in the air
Awaken! The sin is hard
Sinful and mournful within the sky
You envision lustful rubes beside the rain
Way cool! The King is gone
open-eyed alive
trying to recall
memories of water
Under what skies
the traveller
unlearn his past
before help could come

I am Heavy Beside the Flowers

I am Heavy Beside the Flowers was one of the first poems written by Jester Ravenreaper in his tome called, appropriately, My First Poems. Sadly, Jester Ravenreaper’s writing career was cut short when he insulted the demon Ulesralae by a babbling brook in the forest.

Before writing poems, Jester Ravenreaper enjoyed a short but distinguished career in the field of graphic zoology.

Roses in Watercolor

I am Heavy Beside the Flowers

Strangely scary over the grave
I battle luminous gems above the ground
Awake! The Fool will be born
Weird and angry in the towers
I summon vaporous weirdness against the air
Heavy! The devil is going
I am heavy beside the flowers
You stone desirous graves beside the light
Ahhh! The stink has died
backlit alive
saying goodbye
a backward glance
Out of whose dream
the god
unlearn his past
not knowing why

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.