Lightning Hunters

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Lightning Hunters

 

In the the world before there was fire,

We sat, cold and shivering,

In our caves,

Waiting for a lightning strike.

 

A gift from the gods,

To carry home in ceremony,

Aloft,

Dangerous lifebringer,

That must be protected and fed,

Lest we spend another night in the cold.

In prayer we surrounded it, in love

For this mysterious blessing

That kept us from the night

Made our desperate hunts

Less risky in their prize

Knowing food would come

With less danger of deathly disease.

 

They said our ancestors made it from sticks

The elders, the storytellers ,

But in these damp lands

Of ruined towers

Great stone and metal precipices

Best avoided for fear of predators

There were little enough.

 

Once, we stretched towards the stars,

In stories, passed down,

We stretched too far,

Brought the god’s wrath upon us,

Filled great cities with poison

That great beasts fed upon.

 

We brought it upon ourselves,

So now we hide,

Last refugees of a dead race.

 

We search for lightning strikes,

Before the rain takes the bounty away from us,

Our brave hunters travel far.

For fuel and food and fire,

The last carried back as precious

As any of the rocks our ancestors cherished,

To be held in ceremony,

In the depths of our catacombs,

The hearth of our final days.

 

 

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

Footprints

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Footprints

I walked as the bishop,

They bowed before me,

I looked disdainfully as

I passed along the aisle ,

Occasionally feigning to

Touch their filthy hands

As they raised them

Up, in worship,

Towards me.

 

I sat up as the hermit,

Left alone in the cave,

The last time i saw anyone,

They stared, as if

I was something other

Then them,

Once, long ago.

I left,

I’m closer to the truth now.

I know, one day,

I’ll find it.

I stepped back,

 

As the onlooker,

Covering my face as they passed,

On the way to their fate,

Grime-encrusted and foul-smelling,

I longed for the sweet scents

Of my home, once this parade

Of filth had passed,

Watched children pelt

these poor souls with mud,

Before I turned and ran,

Back to my own brood,

Slamming the door behind me.

 

As the actor,

I spread forth words ,

Written by another,

Given life by me,

Spinning worlds for

An audience entraptured by me,

As they would be,

For many nights to come.

I knew that whichever one,

Man, woman, that I

Brought back to my

Squalid little rooms,

Would talk if it

as a palace,

For years.

 

As the mouse I hid,

Whilst heavy feet

Slammed into the ground,

Making it quake,

As I slunk closer

Into my hiding place

It feeling less and less

Safe, with every

Shuddering

Impact.

 

As the hunter I smelt them,

They had been here,

The chase was almost over,

I paused, enjoying

The sensations of my

Weapons, as I readied

Myself, realised too late,

That this might be a trap.

 

 

Every moment, every soul,

Passed through me,

Was me, for a second.

I smiled, knowing where

My travels would take me

This merry evening,

I took my scythe

From the wall.

Image
————————————-
I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!
If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)
https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:
paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/
Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops
Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

Vines 

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Vines
In the wilds, there are only ruins,

Where the fortresses stood once,

Protection from the tide,

That took our civilisation

In the distant past,

Our castles could not stand,

But our city did.

We lured them, 

Pacified them,

Not with steel, but with plenty,

They tore down the gates of our bastions,

Left them empty shells,

Burnt and hollowed. 

When they came to our city,

We let them in,

Opened the gate,

Came to them 

Not with fire and iron,

But with food, welcome,

Relief from thirst.

We taught our great oppressor

That perhaps the plenty of our land

Could be shared

Instead of burnt.

This last act of desperation 

Was taken, by this tired army,

Our leaders spoke at last,

They were brothers, torn by power,

When their father died.

Finally, we had peace, 

Embraced lost siblings

Hand in hand,

Tears mixing

In hearth’s warmth

At last.

The castles still stand empty

A reminder, 

That in vanity and pride

We had fought our kin,

Brought our ruin upon ourselves,

And soothed it in the end,

Not with brimstone,

But with kindness.

————————————-
I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!
If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)
https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .
If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:
paypal.me/henrythorpe
Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.
I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

 
If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/
Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops
Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

Shelter

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Shelter

 

 

There’s always shelter somewhere in the storm

Repeat it, as a mantra,

To protect from gales,

Buffeting rain turned to blades

In wind ice cold, penetrating

Even the warmest cloak,

On the hillside,

Far from home.

 

 

The journey will take its toll,

A price exacted upon you,

It may or may not

take your life,

It will be forever etched

Upon your soul.

 

 

There’s always someplace warm,

Some crag to cower under,

From the worst of nature’s wrath.

 

 
The storm takes,

The earth provides,

Though rain can soothe,

Mountains take lives,

If disrespected,

If the toll is not paid

It will exact it upon another.

 

 

 

Blood runs in the ground,

Washes away in the torrents

Becoming one with the earth again,

Leaving little trace of your path,

But ashes left under
An outcrop, embers
For the next traveller
To re-ignite.

 

 

 

————————————-
I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!
If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)
https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .
If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:
paypal.me/henrythorpe
Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.
I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here
If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/
Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops
Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

The Gardener 

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The Gardener

 

 

Pruning weeds she snips

At the unwanted growth

Protruding from corners

Disrupting orderliness

Blossoming where they should not

She snips at imperfections.

 

 

Raking leaves, fallen mess,

Seeking to marr her creation,

As the seasons pass her by

Every day a new task

To maintain this monotony

New buds ripped up,

Thrown to rot.

 

 

She wakes one day,

Realises this is no longer right,

Now in blossoms, weeds,

She can find beauty,

There is wonder in wildness,

Majesty in disorder.

 

 

She still snips, prunes,

With a more delicate touch,

But only where the wildness

Threatens to take the life

Away from those it threatens,

Where it will strangle

Or envelop irrevocably.

 

 

She lets the dandelions blossom,

Until they spray wish-seeds,

The Forget-me-not bloom,

Pastel reminders,

Hazel and Ivy spread and cover,

The stones that make her home,

Straight marching hedgerows

Shoot electric-shock hair.

 

 

She watches her work,

With a smile, knowing she can

Rest when she is done,

The garden will live on,

Changing form with the seasons,

Even without her care.

 

 

————————————-
I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!
If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)
https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .
If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:
paypal.me/henrythorpe
Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.
I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here
If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/
Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops
Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

Slate

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Slate

 

 

The mountains survive

Their bellies emptied

Of the glass sharp stone

That was their life’s blood,

That fed the men who took it from them.

 

 

The mines are dead,

The mountains live on,

Taking discarded

Intestinal shards,

to armour

Their surface,

Leftover Debris,

minecarts fallen

For the last time,

On tracks that lead to nowhere,

Left to rust for too many years,

Now shuttered in place.

 

 

Walls that barely contain their purpose,

Though they still stubbornly stand,

Unaware that the men who built them,

The great wheels and chains

They housed, are all long dead.

 

 

Nature takes her bounty back,

Trees and wildlife abound,

Where once the land was stained,

Black with coal, pierced with metal,

That rusts, lonely,

On the mountainside,

Unearthed shards of blue stone,

Shine in the sun,

Wet from rain,

As shoots of life

Return to this cold valley.

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

 

Questing Knights 

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Questing Knights

Sir Lance and Sir Shield
We’re knights of great renown,
They rode across the lands,
To save damsels, men from beasts,
In honour and in glory,
They flew their banners high,
Though they often met together
To strive against their foes,
They had not yet raised visors
To look upon each other truly,
Fighting together oft enough,
After quests they soon departed,
Wishing each other well,
As they rode apart to right the 
Wrongs that wracked their lands,
Until they met again.

Then once they met in fateful clash
Against a foul knight bold,
He struck both valiants to the ground,
Took them to his hold,
Locked them in the dungeons,
Stole their helms and armour,
Left them alone, just the two,
To look upon, each said,
The most handsome man 
That they ee’er did see,
From castle, fens or the sea.

Their Bonds did break, as with all their strength,
They reached to clasp each other’s hands,
In union of strength and honour,
To unite their chivalrous power,
They grasped each other close,
As with their bond they broke the door
That kept them there prisoner,
Thrusting it into the far wall,
It struck the guard, 
who dropped the keys,
Then with a cheer they set
 the other captives free,

In a room, they found their armour,
Left discarded on the floor,
After one last great embrace,
They strapped it on, 
prepared for war,
Against this great foe who 
Had imprisoned them, 
in the darkness
Of their dungeon floor,
They clinked their helms against each other,
Placed them upon each other’s heads,
Found their swords and drew them sharp,
Prepared to battle evil
Or fall to death
Upon the cold hard floor,
Together stand, 
unite for battle,
Escape this prison and free them all.

They rallied all that could stand to fight,
Led them up to daylight bright
Together conquered castle and the walls
Until only foul knight remained
Hid, barricaded in his great hall,
His armour burnished, 
red as blood,
He waited on his throne,
Holding his sword across his knees,
Bellowing challenge into rafters and reed,
“You cannot take my castle
Without defeating me,
The guards are dead
The gate is locked,
Only I hold the key,
You will die here,
You,
Your Kin, 
Your Friends,
These rats you rescued,
Will die too, 
Before the day will end”

The Knights united laughed,
There open the door of his hall,
Those behind them united,
In battle-form shone
Swords and spears,
Shining, raised defiant.

The two knights grasped each other’s hands,
Bade farewell and bolted doors,
Went ahead alone,
Towards foul knight
Who sat boldly on his throne,
He rose to greet them,
Sword aloft, he stood
Evil seeping in his step,
The floor shook as he walked,
Fiendish magick in his wake.

Together then, 
they fought
His blows,
Striking true
When given chase,
‘Til sword was stricken from his hands,
Shattering on the floor.

The magic faded from him,
Leaving only an old man,
In armour so much
Larger than his chest,
That weighed him to the floor.

As the spell faded,
Just an old man,
Whimpering on the floor,
Scared, broken, and alone.

They looked upon him,
Then they sighed,
took the armour from him
As he lay upon the floor,
But they refused his pleas
To strike him.
Instead, they took his hands
And raised him up
Took him, helped him,
Walk amongst the others,
Telling none that this
Was once the villain,
Ensorcelled,
Who had imprisoned them all.

They took him to the court,
treated him with kindness,
Fed and roomed him as
They would their own,
He repented, 
though his sins were grave,
The foul magic tapped faded,
Until only a gentle soul remained. 

In time he smiled again,
Though in the end he did not stay.
He left, 
To tell the story
Of the knights, 
Who had saved him
From his awful fate.
The kindness they had showed a foe,
Nobility, love and mercy,
As the only answer to hate.

————————————-
I’m putting all this up for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!
If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)
https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .
If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:
paypal.me/henrythorpe
Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.
I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

 
If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/
Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops
Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

Hideaway

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Hideaway – a wreckers poem. Sea and pirates and treasure and the macabre. 

Far from port we hide,

Lanterns ready to be carried,

In dead of night,

Across the knives of the bay,

That cut ships to shreds,

Leave their treasure filled stomachs

Open to the sky,

Ready for our carrion claws

To dart and disappear, 

Scampering through the wreckage,

To peck at the ribs of disaster,

So we can eat another day,

On the spoils of tragedy.

The Beadle and the Sheriff

Come along the rocks,

With dogs and torches,

Searching for our lair,

They’ll never find our Sinbad’s cave,

It’s tucked away, secret, lost,

We’ll hide until the law 

Has gone away, until 

The next ship comes.

In the night we’ll leave,

Treasures stashed for other days,

When it’s safe we’ll steal away.

They caught our comrade on the coast,

Strung him up in the port,

So as the tide wanes,

He smiles his rictus grin,

To the sea that kept him,

Until she was done with him,

Rolled him into the arms of the law,

On a rogue wave,

That sent his angler-fish boat,

Onto shore, where the

Fishermen found him.

Sea born, sea dead,

He threw his boots off as

The pushed him from the gallows pier.

One long drop,

Then they’ll return you to the sea,

One last drop,

Neck snapping as she comes to take you,

Back to briny waters whence you came, 

She birthed you and she’ll take you home,

When all is done and fishes nibble at your bones,

Smile the grin of men long dead,

When they catch you,

Mother sea will take you back,

To Davy Jones’ long sought home,

In the end, what’s dead is dead,

But seafarers are ne’er alone.

Image from google image search Here

Babel

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This is a love poem, of sorts, about a person who loses their love in the fall of the Tower of Babel, a story of languages and creation, separation and disaster, though there is always hope.

Babel

When the tower fell,

I lost her,

Towards somewhere 

A thousand years gone,

In a rapture

Of gluttonous crashing,

That became everything 

As it ripped us apart,

Changing our tongues,

As we shouted each other’s 

Names into the cacophony

That took us all,

Dispursed us, 

with the wind,

Into the world.

I looked for her,

Though I remembered, as

She let go of the last

Of my fingers, 

That she shouted her love

In words I could never know,

Though I might try.

The tower tore 

our recognition 

Away,

As we parted

Unwillingly 

With the storm.

I remembered her, 

How we’d sit in the sunset

Together, after our work

Was done for the day,

Taking solace in the last

Rays of sunlight,

The cold that came 

After the hot, hard day,

Embraced us, As it

Healed our sun-scarred skin.

When the dust cleared,

I found myself alone,

I stretched my legs,

Took up my chisel,

I knew that all I could do

Was wander the world,

Until I found her again.

I knew that though we 

Could never know each

Others words again,

We knew each other,

We talked in motions,

Eyes communicated 

In flashes of emotion,

Unrecognisable to another.

One day, we would

Find each other, 

We would walk,

 together at last,

Speaking words

That could not 

Reach our ears

But knowing,

Truly, what lay within 

Our reconstructed hearts.

————————————-
I’m putting all this up for freeeeeee, for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!
If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)
https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .
If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:
paypal.me/henrythorpe
Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.
I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

 
If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/
Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops
Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx

The Fairy Steps

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This is a faerie poem, but a warning from one of the nicer ones about the dangers of Faerie, despite its beauty.

 

The Fairy Steps

 

Walk, little fairy, walk,

Guide us across the

Gap between worlds

You took us, once,

Now we must return,

We cannot live here,

In our mundane world,

Where everything seems

So flat, so cold, so grey.

 

 

I cannot take you,

I walk along paths of gold,

Inlaid by my ancestors

In the forest floor

Following glittering edges,

Passing through autumn’s

Fallen leaves,

As the sunlight scatters

In staccato shimmers

From the path

Lightening,

Warming in delicate

Softness, the last

Specks of summer warmth

Easing the chill of the fall

As I wander along

Towards nothing

In particular

To while time away

Spent alone, away.

 

 

We pass, we fade,

It is time for me to leave,

If you seek the paths,

To others of my kin

You must go, beware,

Be wary of their wily ways,

They are not as kind as me,

Their tricks do often mortals sway,

Go careful on the paths,

My friends, would I could

Walk with you again,

Farewell, careful where you walk,

For the snowflake falls,

Where winter stalks.

 

Photo Credit, Ben Wright – Photographer “Rainy Day Woodland Walks”

 

————————————-

I’m putting all this up for freeeeeee, for the love of writing and your enjoyment, and if you would like to use it for your own purposes that would be awesome. However, it’s my writing, and I must ask you to ask me first, and credit me (obviously). Also, if you do I’d really love to see/hear/watch it!

If you’d like to support me, on a monthly basis, then i’d love you forever, and feel free to sign up for my patreon here – i’ll link the blog to here whenever I post something new, as well as a few extra snippets just for patrons (so extracts of WIP larger projects etc)

https://www.patreon.com/lonpops .

If you would also like to help me keep putting things up for free, and support my writing but would rather not do monthly donations, my paypal is:

paypal.me/henrythorpe

Share, like, comment, critique, spread the word(s) and thankyou for visiting my page, you’re all wonderful.

I’ve also done recordings of several of my poems and stories, which are available on soundcloud here

If you’d like to give my page a like on facebook it’s here – https://www.facebook.com/HenryArthurThorpe/

Follow me on twitter (i’m afraid I don’t post much) – @Lonpops

Or drop me an email at hathorpe506@gmail.com

Lots of love,

Henry

xx