Vines

Tags

bastion, battle, castle, castles, city, death, family, folk, folk tale, fort, fratricide, life, love, medieval, peace, plenty, poetry, sword, vines, war

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

Advertisements

Firecracker

Tags

apocalypse, faerie, firecracker, mayhem, other world, pain, poem, poetry, ruin

This,  this is a faerie apocalypse poem 🙂 

 

 

The war hit Faerie too,

Hit the copses,

The ballrooms shattered,

Glass splintering,

As the land gaped,

Roaring in pain.

Ancient gods,

Standing for millennia,

Fell.
The lords of Faerie laughed,

Laughed as their houses

Fell around them,

Their pure faces

A mirror to those

Moustachioed gentlemen,

Who sent young men

To their doom

With a guffaw.
Our world should not echo theirs,

Pure chaos is their lifeblood,

They revel in it,

Take strength,

Blood, and pain, 

Wrench it from us

To feed their ever-hungry

Children.
This changed them,

This blood and bomb implosion,

Unlike dragon fire,

Or wizards wrath 

Against the greatest 

Of the old magic,

These tore and shifted 

The walls between worlds,

Broke them down,

Erased everything they touched.
Faerie was broken, battered and bruised,

The gates split asunder,

To our world,

So the Fey lords rode through,

Lords, ladies, monsters of chaos,

Riding beasts of dream and death,

Causing mayhem,

Though this new, broken world,

Was no longer theirs

Or ours…
As the coals cooled

On this great catastrophe,

They flicker and fail,

Glamours and magic

Fighting fallout and flame,

And falling.

Even the faerie could not survive

This all encompassing 

Devastation.
They ride away,

Sealing their ways

Behind them.

This wasteland 

Boring them,

They leave to seek their games,

Elsewhere.

————————————-
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.
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

Frack Off

Tags

anti-fracking, countryside, frack off, fracking, letter poem, poetry, Political Poetry, spoken word

I don’t often write political poems (there are a few, don’t worry) but this is an edit of a piece i wrote for an anti-fracking open mic that i unfortunately didn’t get to attend in the end, it’s a letter for the public written by the countryside, explaining why it would rather we didn’t use fracking.

 

Dear Residents,

Although I appreciate some of the things that you do,

I let you live on my back

And don’t mind when you groom,

But i’m afraid i might have to put my foot down.

When you break through my skin

And pummel my bones,

Extracting the blood

That keeps me afloat,

Allows me to keep you around.

I would rather you stay here,

Now you’re letting me grow,

My forests returning

To breathe in the snow,

The summer and autumn,

As my family hurt

Across the sea,

I know

You need fuel,

But better ways come

That won’t make my skin falter.

Into depths your homes go,

If you keep drilling,

I just will not hold.

Leave the underground be,

Let the old bones alone,

There’s teeth there

And danger

In what lies beneath

If you take the supports out

From under your feet,

I just cannot save you

When the ground from below

Gasps

In pain, from your actions,

Collapses and falls,

Don’t say I didn’t warn you,

Or ask you to halt,

You’re killing me,

When your heads rest on my soil,

If I fall, Then you fall,

Look after your own,

Treat me with kindness

Then i’ll show you the same.

Yours,

The Concerned Countryside

————————————-

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.

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

Pi

With the state of the world being what it is right now (and again, and again) I’ve found it’s often rather infuriating. There’s so much awful going on all the time it’s hard to deal with. This isn’t quite finished, but as a wip i’m happy with it – it’s difficult, obviously, and i rarely write political poetry, but sometimes it can help with a worldrage.

 

Pi

I am pissed off, pie eyed and

Dis-contented.

Because their solution to guns is guns

And the fix to our problems

Is to blow things up

When there’s pretty much Fuck all left

And they want us to bray

And cheer it on

When there’s fuck all left

And it’s all gone wrong .

 

Why this is the solution

It seems more of a final solution

And yet so calmed and so pacified

We stand idle whilst their

Balls driven, anger cock hardens

About a button to end it all.

Because you know what?

Violence begets violence.

It’s basic maths

If you bomb the shit out of someone they aren’t coming back.

But when you’re turning their cities to dust to save them

That’s noblesse oblige at that.

 

What you want is to stop the bloodshed

With a tank and the bomb and the gas.

Those children with machine guns

asked for it when they picked up the gat

If they’d had guns..

 

They had guns

People died because we cannot stop killing each other.

Where the fuck is the sense in that?

I’m sure ‘do not kill’ is a central tenet

in everything, just twisted and transformed

to transfix the need

Of sad, repulsive old men with power complexes and bloodlust.

 

But we’re all complicit

Because we let them

Though we’re given little option.
So I’m pissed-off, pie-eyed and discontented,

because what the hell else is there to do.

When the world descends to madness,

How do we bid adieu?