Lives Gone by and Time Wasted

"Mommy!" "What are we going to do?" "Save her!" "We have to leave  little lady!" "Not without my mother!"

"Stop crying sweet girl." But my mother..." "You can go back, change it." "How?" "With my help."
"I can change the past?" "I will give you twenty-four hours. Change the past by then, or you will have to give you life to me." "Who are you? That deal is not something I would agree to."

"You didn't think a mortal would create this deal? No. Only a demon would. Twenty hour hours? Or your life?"

In just twenty-four hours, I'll be lying on the pyre.

Unless I change the past to before the fire

Deal with a demon?

Something I never would have done, even if I was dreaming.

So why not? I've been wasting my life till this moment

My mind filled with the acknowledgement

I turned my head back in time

Everything will be over tonight

In twenty hours, I'll be under this earth

Unless I change this rebirth

I see the planning and flowers

As the minutes tick, then the hours

Is this the heaven or the hell,

Now who'll be able to tell

What is the truth or the lie?

This has be making me question this time

In just seventeen hours, this story will end

Not if I can make the amend

To save the most important life

Away from the edge of the knife

What was clear as crystal

Now I see behind the barrel of this pistol

As the setting sun so gold

Never knew it get so old

All the plans fade

Everything made

Now gone?

In just thirteen hours, it’ll be done

Nothing to go on

All the pearls and the silks

How am I feeling this guilt?

I will save this day

As everyone may

This will work I don’t care if I die!

In just nine hours, I’ll be laid down in my promise to return

Don’t care anymore about the burn

Now will I come back?

What if it’s something I lack?

Are these the doubts the demons put in my mind,

Has everyone become blind?

Why am I running away with only a few hours left

With the hope all bereft

In just three hours, it won’t matter anymore

I have lost, so it doesn’t matter anymore

It has been this long

Till I’ve heard her song

I knew she would be ashamed of me

A distant melody, or a memory

This was my home,

In an hour it’ll be nothing in the foam

In just one hour the demon shall have my body

I know I shouldn't have agreed

As my blood is filled with the poison

And the scene I was to save now filled with crimson

Same feeling as the one night

What has happened to my might?

This time is where they wait

So why didn’t I leave this fate?

The demon is in front of me now

A sick grin on his face as he leans toward my ear

The blood on the ground

And smeared all around

"Say goodbye to your world.”

As the lives unfurled

Why did I waste my time?

This idea nearly killed me, and I'm going to die tomorrow with my Aerobics final project but I finished it! I don't care who you are, I am proud of myself with the rhyming. Song which inspired this: 24 by Jem. It's actually a specific video featuring Hetalia that my friend showed me.
This has been haunting me for weeks.
Note: Bereft is actually a word. I didn't know either at first.

Life and The Seasons - By Lord Michael

Freshly ploughed fields lay fallow

Under a heavy morning frost;

The breath of animal and man

Steams as it puffs from nose and mouth.

Golden grain wavers in the breeze

As it blooms to maturity,

Calves, foals and lambs laze in the shade of trees

The sunburnt farmer works under a broad brimmed hat.

The seasons all pass in turn

The cycle of life begins and ends in turn

The sun, the breeze, the frost and fallen leaves

The wonder of our land in all its beauty.

Two Prose Poems - By Lord Michael

Symptoms of a Romantic

Why? Romantics love purples and mauves; talk of nostalgia, winsome, and

wistfulness; deal in the sadness of beauty, and the beauty of sadness; and

understand we can greet death with a certain peaceful sadness; hear the echo

of bagpipes in mist filled valleys and imagine the terror that existed there; of the

courage and the bravery; and feel the tear drops that fell upon the dead and dying

after all energy is spent; see the haze that surrounds the virgin, imagine the soul

with wings not meant to be seen, see beauty in clouds that others see filled with

danger; see faces in the lightning; hear the kitten cries of a wild lion roaring; see

through the troll's facade to discover the little boy; see notes upon a page and

hear the most glorious of sounds we thought were for the dead; and who's being

explodes into shooting stars and rainbows which words cannot explain; that starts

within, and carries past, the final thrust of love?

We Must Not Forget the Heart

Yes we must not forget the heart. It is our heart which contains our world. If we look into our

heart, and shuffle things around a little we will always find those little things we had forgotten

about hiding in the corners. The little things are often the most important. As we draw them out of

our heart, they will open up like a pair of purple gossamer wings that will wrap around our being,

comforting us and colouring our world for as long as we wish them to be there. And while they

are there we are sharing ourselves and our gifts with the world which helps colour the world and

makes it more beautiful than were it without you.

The Battle And Journey Home - By Lord Michael

The Battle and Journey Home
The battle weary knights head homeward once again.
Their dinted armor telling; the story of their pain.
Their horses too are bloodied, but carry masters home.
Soon ladies and princesses, will no longer be alone.

‘Twas many hours ago, they fare welled their King and son.
The stutter of the hooves as the mighty steeds set forth,
Silenced the cries and sobs, of hope the job be done.
The rattle of the armor, played a song of death and worth.

The pipes were bright and lively as the long ride had begun.
The rattle of swords and shields provided for the drum.
Two sides soon met headlong, into bloody battle,
Sword against sword, shields raised high, the clash was more a rattle.

Courageous men and ladies, with fire in their eyes,
Set upon the others, and wiped away their lies.
Green fields in the morn' had suddenly turned red.
Blood spurting from the injured added to the dead.

The traitors near all slaughtered, but some did ride away.
Thoughts already turning for the fight another day.
They limped and crawled away, for home is where they headed.
A few were strong and upright, but their leader was beheaded.

The King rode high and strongly as the leader of the knights.
And home came out towards them as they told of all the fights.
And victory was their message, as they stuttered in once more.
Ladies and princesses, greeting home those they adore.

Everwood was safe again, though all knew there'd be more.

Holiday Gift for You Part 2

Alright let's get back to what I started a few days ago with tips and tricks on how I write my best works. I already went over music, classic study, rhyming, and notebooks vs computer. So with a bagel at my side I shall try to remember what I was going to say yesterday. Here we go!

1. Find what time is best for you. By this I mean find out during what time gives you the best ideas. I always get better ideas either at dusk or at night when I can see the moon. Like I said in a post a while back I wrote a good epilogue for FDTR just by looking out one summer evening and breathing in the cool air. If you ever wake up to change a part of a story at midnight, you never have to change it again. And this is why you should have a notebook under your pillow.
2. Don't be afraid to people watch. Go to the local Saturday Market and sit down with some hot cocoa to watch everybody. I went to the Saturday Market just a few days ago and a local street musician was playing on drums. I wish I got a recording of him because he was amazing at just improv-ing his whole song. Every time someone gave him some money he added a thank you in his song. I, of course, had to write down the ideas I got from the market right away, else I would probably have forgotten then by now. 
3. Be Spontaneous with writing. God knows how many times I was zoning out in class while taking notes and some story scenes pop up I just write them down. I remember laughing when I saw my teachers face when she was checking off notes in Chemistry and parts of a story were written down. Don't worry if the writing doesn't sound good. It may help later in the future.
4. Most poems are based off serious emotion. Try to find a way to make yourself feel the emotion of the poem. I have taught myself to cry whenever thinking something sad, but it only works one time with each sad thing. If you want an angry feeling poem, make yourself angry. Of course make sure you don't get too angry especially if people are nearby.
5. I don't really have any more advice except (I know it's really cliche) Find what is in your mind, hidden, and write it down. I didn't know I could write poems until I actually tried it. Find the poem hidden in your mind and pull it out. You never know if you might be the next Shakespeare.

I hope everyone has a nice holiday season and I hope you enjoy writing now poems with some of these Tips. Wish I could remember all of them that I had earlier but I got distracted.

Writer's Block Is Evil, So Here's A Holiday Gift Instead Of the Poems

   I was working on two poems based on I Guess It Doesn't Matter Anymore by Blackmore's Night, but I have had so much writer's block that I can't finish it in time. So instead, I throw out a few good tips on how to get your own poems started. These will be tips I myself use on a daily basis when I can actually write without that block stopping everything. These tips will range from the basic to the way I get my best ideas.

1. This one is really basic: Music is poetry with a beat, so listen carefully. I have gotten several ideas for short stories and quick poems while listening to new songs. Sometimes listening to a song you normally wouldn't, is a great burst of inspiration. I (Might) Remember Me is based off a song I heard on Graham Norton Show but because I couldn't remember the song lyrics the title was all I had. Some good musicians I get inspirational from regularly: SJ Tucker, Heather Dale (good for Renaissance poems), Blackmore's Night, anything that Mercades Lackey had a hand in, and Emilie Autumn songs (for those who like more rock songs).
2. Read some of the classics and study how they write. The first poems I had studied were some by Edgar Allen Poe, one of my favourites. I think he probably inspired some of my more morbid ones. A poet and play-write that is really good to study is William Shakespeare. His sonnets and monologues are some of the best to study withe iambic pentameter and the whole feminine and masculine endings. I'm still working on learning those. Good writers to study: Edgar Allen Poe, Shakespeare, Walt Whitman, anything by the Brontë sisters, ee cummnings, and maybe some international authors if you want. I have most of these authors poems on iBooks.
3. Poems don't have to rhyme. I have a lot of issues with clever rhyme schemes unlike Ishymaru. How he does it, I still don't know. I know a lot of people who can't rhyme and think they need to make it be a poem. Working with prose is much easier but does give it a bit of a rough, unfinished look. (Just got distracted for about an hour looking through pictures.) If you want it to rhyme but can't think of anything, go to rhymezone or some other site you can probably find on Google. There are no examples here.
4. Try using a notebook instead of the computer if needed. I used to only use pen and paper for all my poems and books. I use computer now because it is a lot easier for me to type faster than write and I can look back and edit anywhere. Handy if you have more than 20 pages, but all my old poems and first 50 pages of The Hunted were hand written(Which remind me, I need to find my good pens again). I still always carry around a notebook for ideas or if I get a flash of inspiration and I don't have a computer. Sometimes having the notebook and actually feeling the pen writing sometimes gives you the best ideas. If you have no purse that can carry a notebook (which I highly doubt) or if you're a guy and don't carry around a purse or bag, just find some of those small memo book which can fit in a pocket. I just bought a new/first purse which can carry a full sized notebook. Actually around 5 full sized notebooks.

Since I am really tired right now and I know this post would slowly go downhill if I stayed await. So I'm guessing there will be a part 2 soon. If I remember.

I (might) Remember Me

I remember how you met me years ago
I know what you wore and how you acted
I treasure what you did
But I don't really remember me
I recall your usual smile at my laughter
I dwell upon our daily life together in the sun
I recollect your dream
But how can I not remember me?
I can cite your favourite places visited
I love reliving laying on our backs in grass
I retain that mistake
I want to remember me
I learned that I was in a hospital
I had no memory of what happened
I knew nothing
But I know what you did


It was all an accident
I know the truth
She had fallen down the stairs
You are wrong
Nothing but ramblings
Don't leave me with him
She has serious memory loss
Don't listen to him
She can't even talk anymore
Let me write it down
If you would please leave
I'm begging you...


She doesn't remember even who she is
Of course I don't
I'll try to see if she remembers anything
I do remember something
...I remember you...



The idea was something completely different than I thought at first. It was supposed to have just been someone remembering an argument. The idea was supposed to have been happy at the end, but the story had different ideas. I hate how I'm the storyteller, I should know how it should end. Story has different ideas. 

One new idea is going to publish two new poems by the end of this month. Please be patient! 

Nat's Power - Dramatic Monologue - Written over two years ago

While looking for a name I used in one of my stories a long time ago, I came across a few of my works from Freshman Year (God, has it really been two years?). This was an assignment where I had to write out a dramatic monologue for something, I don't remember the instructions. It's a little weird because I remember writing it on a night where I had insomnia. So anyway, Background note: It's about one of the main characters in The Hunted, called Nat. The monologue isn't really in the story but something close is. It's a bit choppy, but it's pretty good for being an old one. I changed nothing from the original way it was written, even though it may not make sense (It truly doesn't anymore).

She lowered the blood stained sword.

Walked across the battlefield

All her wounds already healed.

Her sister, brother, friend all have gone

Ran when she lost control, she couldn't stop

The purple eyes filled with anger, fear, and bloodlust all in one.

She couldn't control the bloodlust and anger

So all she had was fear.

Why must she have this power?

Killed so many at so young

Wisdom beyond her years

Nat knew she used up most of her power

She must get out of this field.

Why can't she remember what happened?

Not remembering her own battle

Not knowing what really happened

Or what she did to her enemies

Dropping her sword

Stumbling across the bodies

She walked into the forest

Away from the blood soaked ground

Trying to find a place to rest 

Before trying to find her friends

This poor little girl with no real family

Her hazel eyes staring at the moon

A willow tree in the woods provides a place

She closed her eyes and slept

Little seven year old Nat

Until her power wakes her up.

Please comment on this post on what you think of my writing style now and how is was when I wrote this.

I have happy news!!!

Last school year, around the time of the Shakespeare, I lost 50 hand-written pages of my book, The Hunted. This whole time, I had given up on that story because even though I had most of it memorized, I couldn't remember the best parts. Just yesterday, my mom asked if she could throw away some old notebooks that had been gathered (I love notebooks a lot). Looking through them, most were empty and were wide-ruled....Sad. Wide-ruled is evil. So I was flipping through the notebooks when I saw a small one with "Bunny" written on the back in Sharpie. Turning it over, I nearly fainted. The reason: I normally have blue or red covers on my notebooks but this one had a black cover. When I opened it my whole story was there! I started crying because I have already given up my notebook for dead!
Normally I would put this kind of a post on my other blog, but it's my writing notebook! If it wasn't for my friends reading that notebook in middle school, I would never have written so many poems and this blog would never exist! I have never been so happy to so a notebook in my life.

I'm working on some so here's something else that might catch your interest!

There are poems on the way, do not despair.

Something Else that might catch your interest:

My friend and I are going to Sakura-Con this spring and are raising every penny by ourselves. While she is doing drawing commissions on DeviantART, I will be doing writing commissions for anyone who wishes for them! So, if you need a poem or letter written out to woe someone or, I don't know, something nice to frame, drop me a line. My e-mail in on my profile and I will probably reply to all e-mails. This being a commission, it is perfectly legal to ask for money in exchange for the copyrights to the work. I will get a Pay pal or use my friends to transfer the money.

 I will say now that I will not do essays. I have enough to do already.

A life with me and I?

A life with only me and I, would be like a dream were you can fly.
It would be a party with games and fun, and anything else that can be done.
It will be filled with lots of emotions, and maybe, just for fun, it will have many potions.
That life would be a lot of fun, and I really wish it could be done.
Whoops how could I not remember, I made a bit of a small error.
The first sentence says "A life with only me and I", but it is wrong because I can not deny,
that I can say with out a hint or clue, that it wouldn't be a fun life if I didn't have you.

Short Story - A Song From a Music Box (My first short story)

One click, two, then three. When she heard the fourth click, she let go of the little key in her hand. As the music swelled from the box in her hand, her mind drifted back to when she saw the stars in the night sky and the clouds during the day. Eleanor looked to where the window was, her music box now on the window sill. With a hand on the stained glass, cool to the touch from the snow she knew was drifting down slowly. -Silent and colorless. Just like me.-

As the music slowly went silent, she picked it back up in her hand. When it stopped, Eleanor rewound it again. Same notes as always, yet still so beautiful. Her mind wandered and she saw herself at the piano with her knight standing against the wall behind her. It was his favorite song. And she learned it just so she could make sure that every time he came back home, he would feel relaxed again. The music stopped and she fell back into the real world. Back to where her knight has not returned. Back to where she could no longer see his face when he returned. Back to where she could no longer play the song for him, even if she could see. 

The piano was gone. The room where she played for him was gone. The courtyard where she first met him while trying to escape was gone. And her dress she was going to wear when he was to become the Champion Knight was gone. All in flames the day she ran to live. She had no time to save anything but the music box at her side, the only reminder of the song that filled the house that had stood for generations. When she ran, Eleanor had tripped when fleeing the flames behind her. The reason she had escaped from any damage other than her eyes was the knight that was at her side every waking moment. 

He had brought her to this church, one that served her family for years before the house was built. She shook her head to empty her mind of that painful day. -No use dwelling on that day a year ago.- Even though she tried as hard as she could, Eleanor could still remember when she woke up in a bed, and panicking when she couldn't see any light. Her knight had been next to her and had placed her delicate hands on his face so she knew it was him. When she had asked him what happened, she knew his face had fallen. 

The knight had left her in the same church a week later. Eleanor was trapped in a god-forsaken world without her best friend. He had left to go back to the battle field where he said he belonged. A year had passed and the only word that had come from him was in the form of four words written on a piece of paper. 

Again, Eleanor tried to clear her head of the past. This time she was able to stay in the present moment on a cold winters day. She placed the music box key back on her necklace as she felt night approaching. She had spent the day in her chair waiting for him as she always did. 

Eleanor stood up to walk over to her desk and reached out for a small cloth bag. Inside was what he saved for her. Along with the letter, he had sent a remnant of what had survived from the room when the flames had swept through it. Reaching her hand in the bag she first pulled out a white chess piece from her set that was in the shape of a horse. She knew it was white as that was the only side she ever played, since she was the White Lady. And in the bag was also an ivory key from her much loved piano that she played so diligently. And the letter, carefully folded around the key, with four words written out with a piece of charcoal.

A swift knock sounded on her door as she quickly placed her treasures back in her desk. “My Lady, it’s from the knight!” The priest rushed to her. “It’s another letter! Would you like to know what it says?” When she nodded, he continued. “‘To my White Lady.’ It comes with a gift.”

Dismayed the letter said the same thing it did last time she reached her hand out for the gift. The priest had rushed back out the second he had pressed the letter and the gift in her hand. She opened the cloth bag and out fell a carved figure. She felt it careful before realizing it was in the shape of a phoenix, the old symbol for her house and linage. She set the carved figure on the desk. -What does it mean?- Eleanor had just set the bag down and heard the sound of metal hitting wood. She picked the bag up again and reached into it a second time. When she pulled her hand back out, a small gold ring was in her hand. -Wait. How can I tell it's gold?- Blinking once slowly, she saw her hand holding the ring, and the stone floor beyond it. Hearing movement next the her, but the door not being opened since the priest came, she suspected they had come with him. 

Turning to face the sound, Eleanor saw a man in full armor on one knee and his head bowed. As his head lifted, a familiar smile on his face. "Good Evening, my White Lady. Did you know that tears of a Phoenix, forged in gold, have healing abilities?”

Tears came to Eleanor’s eye as she held the ring in her hand and ran to her knight.

What I can do.

You sit by me and with your friends, all of them are diffrent with their moods and trends.
All of them know about you and I, and how to them we act quiet and shy.
But in my eyes all I can see, are the ways your able to stand out to me.
So please tell me what I can do, so that I am able to stand out for you.

Hidden love

My mind always drifts to thoughts of you, hoping you are happy even when I have no clue.
I wonder if you know about these feelings I hold, sitting in my chair with my mind untold,
and when we leave the class I see your beautiful eyes, and regret to say a day's goodbyes.
But then I remember has I see your smile, that this school year will be the best for awhile.

A Memory Ten Years In The Making

I wrote this in honor of those that were lost to us during the 9/11 attacks. Though I can't remember much of what happened that day ten years ago, I still know those that were lost haven't been forgotten by those who they left.

An eighty-four year old man holds a candle for his childhood friend, who was still sweeping the floors. 
"Lest we forget."
A woman sets down a photograph of the last family portrait, taken less than a week before.
"I'll never forget you honey."
A young man carries a bouquet of her favourite flowers, as it was her first day of her new job.
"I will always love ya sis."
A ten year old boy stands before a crowd, talking about his father, who he had never met. 
"We will miss you."
Though the stories are different, the idea is the same
And though the backgrounds are different, the love is true
For those who are lost and those that were found. 
We all will remember no matter age
For those who are gone are never forgotten.

Under the stars

In the dark they decide to sit, seeing the stars bit by bit.
With the light the moon does show, the two young lovers sitting below.
All their worries being swept away, with only peace being the way.
Holding hands to show they're near, so the other will have nothing to fear.
In the dark they decide to sit, under the stars that are slowly lit.

Yeah........I'm working on my stories more and more now.

I've had such a serious case of writer's block that only near evening can I even write something remotely good. I have just finished a two page epilogue for Free Daughter of a Trapped Renegade. I started at around eight or so and finished at eleven. I'll see if I can maybe find someway to make my story go faster. Then, you will all get more poems. I'll try creating more when I'm going out. People watching is very useful.
Until then, Ciao!

Sight - (Written in ten minutes)

This poem deserves a bit of an explanation. I couldn't sleep, and this odd line appeared in my head. I just took a note on my iPod and started typing at around three in the morning. Don't know why this came up, but it seems my favorite quote is true. "You never had to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write." Even though I didn't wake up, I just couldn't sleep. Sorry for the delay in this poem. Blocks and writers don't mix. Hope you enjoy! Even if the title sucks.

I see the sun going down beneath the mountains you like
I know the darkness will keep me awake into the long hours
You see the sun going down into a mass of clouds I love
You know the darkness my fear is born of
As the moon rises and disappears as the hours grown to the next day
I stay awake with your words
You stay awake with my replies
The darkness grows deeper as you slip away
My fears grow as you are gone

Tears fall down her cheeks, cold, new tears
Her  room becomes a dark mass
The last day of her sanity has gone
Never to be with the one who loved the mountains
Never to see the clouds she loved
Never to see the light saving her from her fear
For as he disappeared
So did her ability to see her world
The last day of sight her only memory

Sorry.. Again.

I have had writer's block for a while now, so sorry for not posting stuff in a while. I've been working more on my books then short poems. If I can, I'll post some bits and pieces of stories I'm working on.
If needed I'll work on my four drafts I have lying around since my views have been going down. I promise to post something by the end of today.

I have over 1,300 views!!

I feels so happy that People have been looking at my blog! My most viewed post is "If Only You Knew" and the countries that look at my blog the most are US and Russia. I'm posting this during our Espanol Game period, but if I wasn't I would post a brand new poem.

His Promise

I was in my little village tending to my garden
When he rode up on a horse, so perfectly white
He was just passing through to stay at our village of Arden
I had never seen a man who took my breath away.
He took one look at me and I could see
He felt the same way towards me
And he whispered these words in my ear
"Meet me in the shade of the river willow tree."
I met my knight that evening dark
He promised to take me away
Away to live together far to the horizon
"I will take you in the month of May."
As he rode off on a horse, so perfectly white
One day, I knew, he would return to me
As everyday I remembered his promise
To take me away in the month of May.
The month of May was halfway over
Yet, I waited everyday for the return of my lover
Trusting his promise
That he will come back to me
To be in his arms again.
And two years later
I see a far off white horse appear
With a rider trying to go a fast as he can
As he jumped down and picked me up and twirled me around.
"My dearest Lady, can you ever forgive me?"
I nod and we kiss each other for the first time
So I ride off with my knight.
Though he may not be the bravest
Or may not be the strongest
He is my knight who remembered and kept his promise
To return for me when he returned.

Minds problems.

It hurts to know your in pain,
It hurts to know how you feel,
I can't stop my mind from thinking of you.
All the saddness you must go through,
All the pain you must live through,
Yet I can't say the words out loud.
You have a life in your own world,
You have a dream you hold dear to,
I'm always screaming them in my head.
Why am I not strong enough,
Why am I to weak,
All I want to do.
Is to say I love you.

LET ME OUT!

You watch with glazed eyes
You don't see what is front of you
As I break under pressure
Breaking, cracking, until I collapse
I lock myself away
Screaming into the mirror
Crying at myself
Stop screaming!
As I look into my own eyes
Digustingly dark eyes
I wonder if I'd be missed
I'm ugly!I'm trapped!
I want help! I don't want to go!
Let me go, just let me dissapear
Everything would be better if I were pretty
My mask is hideous I'm hideous
Help me! Please!
Tears as I chop off my long bangs
I want to be free!
Help me!
Just a small haircut
The pressure broke a lonely soul
A soul that screaming for help.

Please Come Back

When will you return to me?

This world seems too big

This ocean too far to cross

As I stare across it,

Waiting for you to sail up with your smile

With stories of your adventures

Keeping me entertained through the night

When will you return to me?

Another day ends

Without you next to me

As I keep watching for you,

Never moving from my spot to watch

Seeing if you're back here again

My one only own

When will you return to me?

And when you've returned

I'll say those words

That you promised to say to me

And I already know my answer

To be together forever
So please come back
When will you return to me, my one only own?

Song Of The Battle Epilogue

I was brought before the King and his counsel
As I was found out for being a woman.
My face was behind a mask since the day you died
When they asked me why I went into battle
"I am a warrior"
When they asked me why I cried and screamed that day
"He died"
They were unimpressed by my lack of response
"I went into battle to serve instead of cower in a corner,
"I cried because I loved him!
"He knew I was a woman but still let me fight."
A soldier would normally have been sentenced to the stocks
For loving another soldier.
A woman would normally have been executed publicly
For being in the army.
Because of my victory and my valor, I lived
You were given a hero's burial on the field.
I built myself a house near a river and made myself a living in the village
As the years past, I walked everyday to see you.
The scars that were left on my heart that day haven't faded
I sit next to you on that field, telling you how much I love you
Though you can't be here with me.
The only place where I every remove my mask is with you
Where I can sit and talk to you with my real smile
Even though you are gone, I still sing my song to you.

Song Of The Battle Part 3 Final Act

Now you knew my secret, but nothing had changed
You still fought with me in the field,
My deputy by day and lover by night
We started to win the war,
And you were making plans to live together
"Let's live peacefully after all this war."
I agreed as the final battle approached.
We will win and be happy!
I led the troops with you charging down next to me.
We surprised the enemy and broke their ranks
As our killing and winning streak continued.
During the mists of the battle, you lost sight of me
I was off fighting the leader of our enemy,
While you were in my mind as I swung my sword and blocked his blows.
With a crash, I broke his sword and won this battle and war!
We signed our peace in paper and went off to spread our news.
Our army then went off to bury our dead
I hadn't seen you since that morning.
"Captain!" A cry came up from my page from across the field.
There you were. Blood on your clothes. Breathing low and shallow.
Forgetting my place, I dropped to the ground. "We won."
"You stay brave, Capt'n. You will keep living for me."
You lifted your hand to my face and held it by my cheek.
"Farewell. I love-"
As your hand fell down and nothing stirred,
Tears coursed down my face silently
Ignoring the soldiers that were looking at me
I screamed my anguish into the heavens
For taking you away from me.

True Lovers Poem

You may not be the perfect dove, but you are the one I truly love.
What you do is sometimes strang, but their is nothing I would change.
I sometimes show a lot of fears, but I'll be brave to stop your tears.
We both may be in different fights, but we both shall be eachothers light.
I may not be the perfect dove, but I hope I am the one you love.

I'm really sorry!

I haven't posted much since I have play practice till seven and I'm working more on my longer stories and books than my poems. There will probably be more after May when I have less stuff to work on. If you wish to know what is going on in my life other than my poems, I will still be posting to Usagi Hikari's Mind. It's my second blog which is more like daily events. I am also working on Part 3 of the Song Of the Battle so that will be up A.S.A.P.
Sorry again if anyone was expecting any new poems.

Song Of The Battle Part 2 Lover's Question

We both joined this battle side by side 

I climbed the ranks with you right behind

To you I was a friend, a councilor, a warrior to defend

You saw me as your own free rebel man

I led our ranks straight in that battlefield

Fought side by side as always.

And we walked across our battle won

But as one man lay dieing on the field after the battle,

He spat out the words to you "Sir you are led by a woman"

You turned to me confusion and surprise

"Why would a women fight next to me and leave the safe homestead?

"I thought you would always tell me the truth!"

I looked at you, my eyes steady and true

"Why would I stay in my boring life?

"Why can't I be the first woman to be in an army?

I wished to fight and fight I did."
Your eyes turn to mine as I hide my face
With hair cut short and dirt streaked face
I knew you would just laugh
As I hear no words of disdain or laughter
I see your eyes filled with understanding
"Then shall we fight?
"We won the battle but not the war.
"Even if you're a woman,
"I'll follow and love you ever more."

Song Of The Battle Part 1

A raised sword and shield, ready in the ranks
Stay as you are my men, ready at command
Keep in time, watch with care
Don't let them take us by surprise
Over from the hill beyond, this will be their grave
We shall teach our enemies what is to be in war!
You never did falter when we heard their battle cries
You never did flinch when you saw the iron swords
I entrusted you with all our dreams,
Our hopes of what's to come
Even though as your own leader...
I knew we wouldn't survive.
But raise up our flags of war!
We will shall send these bastard to graves
They will regret when they took away our life
I fought along side you my men
I killed our enemies with as much hatred as yours
I was changed on this field as I killed and fought on this bloodies field.

Song of the Wars

Quiet tears on a stained face
A song echoes across the land but goes unheard
By those who the song is sung for.
Those long forgotten or those just gone
This land suffered much under the calm exterior
This land once soaked in the blood of it's people
Those now forgotten and gone
For those the song is sung
Unheard by all except the survivors
The last one is the singer
The last to stay alive from the battle
Battle from many years ago
They fought for freedom and rights
Men and boys dieing in their prime
The guns firing and swords clashing
The swords swung together and in a deadlock
The swords bring the two fighters close
But one must fall as the other goes to the next battle
Swords piercing the soft flesh of the stomach
Man dieing by your arms
He was the only one to see the singer at what they were
He saw the long hair and frightened face of a girl
She tries to get the image out
Blood stained face then instead of tears now
"Why" singer asks "Why"
As she looks in the calm water
"I don't know"
"Of course. Because You're me."
I walked off again off the field that changed me
The field where I killed the enemy
A girl in the army of boys made to fight
I leave the field behind me
On the field is a single tombstone
"For those unable to hear the Song Of The Battle"

Teru's Song - Teru no Uta - Tales From The Earthsea

Far, Far Above the Clouds Soaring with the Wind,

A Falcon Flies Alone, Silent as the Sky,
I Hear His Lonely Cry,
Never Can He Rest,
I Walk with You Along a Empty Winding Road,
We're Far from the Ones we Love, and Never Can Return,
Never Can we See Again, the Countries of Our Birth,

When Will I Ever Find a Place to Call My Home?
Sadness Circling Like a Falcon in the Sky,
When Will I Ever Find a Way to Speak My Heart,
to Someone Who Knows, What it is to be Alone?

Far, Far Above the Clouds Against the Setting Sun,
A Falcon Flies Alone Silent as the Sky,
I Hear His Lonely Cry, Never Can He Rest,
I Long to Spread My Wings and Fly Into the Light,
Open This Lonely Heart to One Who Understands,
When Will I Ever Find, a Way to Speak My Heart?
When Will I Ever Find a Place to Call My Home?
Sadness and Loneliness, a Falcon in the Sky,
When Will I Ever Find a Way to Speak My Heart,
to Someone Who Knows, What it is to be Alone?


This is a song from the Studio Ghibli film, Tales from The Earthea. This song is basically saying how I feel at this moment. I feel like I don't fit in so I keep traveling.

New Book Idea!!

I know that my manager will hate me, but I like this idea. It has a lot of cliche terms and styles but I'll see if it works for you guys!

The figure made no noise, only a small metal click with each step coming from their necklace. An old, figureless, sweater with old boots, blue jeans, and a conductors type hat outlined the figure. The sidewalk and surrounding areas were completely deserted except for a man walking in the direction of where the figure stood in the shadow. The figure took a menacing step forward into the visible area around the single, flickering, streetlight. The man noticed the figure was about to turn the the opposite direction when the streetlight flashed out. With the remaining light from the harvest moon, high in the sky, let the man see the figure pull out a gun. The last image the dead man walking saw was the blood thirsty eyes anchored over the cruel smile aimed down at him and the thin stands of hair blowing in the slight breeze.

So this is the basic idea I dreamt up during the Like-A-Thon. If you don't know what that is, look at my other blog and read the post done on this same day! Give your feedback if I should keep working on this!

Stones and Words

I stand the pain as I must
Yet I'm still breakable
Sticks and stone will break my bones
You can beat me from an inch of life
You could torture me for hours
But if you say any words against my love
Then it'll be futile to live any longer
I keep my true pain hidden
So you can never harm me
I could protect myself from any injury
I could shield myself from the hate
But please don't turn away my love
Anything throw at me will hurt
But sticks and stones won't break my spirit
Though throwing my love away with harsh words
Might just make me stop living me life

Juliet

"Oh rich and famous Juliet"

That's what they all call me

But I don't want to be trapped forever

In this room, disguised as a gold coated room

I should marry in the family, with power and wealth

What happened to love and care in a marriage?

So I ask the stars at night, high in the sky

"Where's my path? Where does it lead?

Which way should I take?"

Another day, another proposal, another ball

I decline as always

I know why father is getting strained

He wants the power I can get him

So on my balcony I ask the moon

Blood red tonight

"Where's my prince? The one to rescue me?"

And I wait on this balcony

My link to the outside

My only place of freedom

And wait for my rescue

Burn - My First Poem Last Year

The smoke, the fire
                  Never to die
          Never alive
     The fire burns like a war
Always raging
                  Never dieing
          Never living

Lost Love

They ran through the woods during a storm
Lightning illuminates their path
Two lovers, never to love
Families forbidden
As they run, trackers follow
Whether they survived, I cannot say
When a storm comes
You can still see them
Running from the pursuers

Power

We hide out
Breathing slowly and softly
Shots ring out and we stay quiet
We knew our neighbors
Now no longer
We hear them rushing in
Destroying everything we hold dear
I dig myself clear of the other bodies
To a corner hidden from view
I don't know how long to stay here
So I keep still in the night
Hoping to stay out of the nightmare

World Without Me

Sitting down in a shaded place
Family and friends come and go
Some carrying flowers and letters sent to me
As I watch them and they don't see me
They all say the same things
"It's been too quiet,
It's been too long,
In this world without her"
Years go and someone new is gone
So now they wonder
How the world is
Without us

Set Me Free

I'm no Juliet, on the balcony
Waiting for a Romeo, who might set me free
Even though he might never arrive
I still wait here for him, trying to survive
As many people walk past
I know it can't last
Cause I wait forever
For someone who can't ever come
I need someone to save me
I want someone to save me from this world

Silent Cries

Looking up, she lets the tears mix with rain
Hoping none see the sadness in her dark eyes
The wind blows her hair into her face
Not bothering to brush it away, she walks on
The woods welcome her as she marches in
Making sure none hear her silent cries
Leaning against a strong willow for more strength
As lightning flashes and thunder rolls

This World

          The bombs explode and nothing remains
Only death and heartache
          A person is killed by a handgun
Just because they were there
          Another love is ended suddenly
Now a single parent all alone
         The child cries but nobody hears
Only a grave remembers her
          A fire burns and all is lost
Just because someone was bored
          Another prayer is heard, across in the little room
Now nothing is left except a dream

Love Across Time

The cold wind blew across the barren plain
In his cave-like home, he stayed close to the fire
The flames creating images in his delusional mind
He sees images of a life now lost
A love now gone
As he wind howls through his old house
It kills the fire
His warmth, his delusions gone
The wind freezes his blood
Eyes still focused on the empty hearth
Now empty of a soul
He travels across space for a short bit
He sees someone waiting for him
Wearing the same white dress from years ago
Holding out a gloved hand
Reaching for each other once again
Until the next life can bring them together again

New Update!

So I almost have 480 views! Thanks to all who comment and give me a reason to get my lazy butt out of bed. I actually thought that this blog would be a "dud" with only about two views a month. Special thanks to Clair Lair and Ishy-kun! You have made If Only You Knew and In The Distance my two top poems, with Lone Drawer close behind. The next few poems will all be older ones I made last year when I was bored. The quality will be slightly worse than the ones I write online completely new.
Also I'm thinking of putting some bits and pieces of my books on here. If you want to see a specific genre on here such as Historical Fanasy (like The Hunted and my ten other Matisya books.), my Manga Idea I had, (mostly just the background stories), or Other (being Water's Best Kept Secret and any other others I find in my eleven notebooks). Comment to help me choose!
And Ishymaru. You are not aloud to pick the background stories.

Who Am I?

I am invisible,
I am plain,
I am nothing in most peoples' eyes.
I am self conscious,
I am different,
I am nothing like I want to be.
I am funny,
I am a comedian,
I am someone who loves to smile.
I am Usagi,
I am Elean,
I am all three that hide in my head.
I am shy,
I am out there,
I am whatever the second demands.
But you can't except that.
In your eyes
I am a liar,
I am a thief,
I am nothing but a witch.
I am unmerciful,
I am unitelligent,
I am someone who doesn't understand love.
Now I know where my heart truly lies,
I know where I should go,
I know what to believe.
I know everything is worth it if you make a smile.

In the Distance

You feel something on your back,
But you turn and nothing is there.
I'm watching from my shadows in silence.
As you know me, but really don't know my heart.
We laugh and we live
But fear of my heart keeps me away,
You see the mask I wear around others,
And you've seen me as me.
You're playing games with you're other friends
As I watch from my corner
You are so close but yet so far away
It's as if you are in a different world.
I'm an invisible, plain girl
I know why you haven't seen me watching you.
I'm in the distance, behind you, making sure
That even though you don't know me,
I'm watching out for you.
In my own corner.

True Love

As I sit near my open window,
A breeze moves the clouds over the moon.
My one bright star in the heavens is hidden from me once again,
Every morning the same, just a glimpse of that star,
Between the rain clouds that seem to drag me down.
Every night I stare out my open window.
Towards my bright star I love,
My star is like a love.
Sometimes there, sometimes hidden.
You know it's there but you just can't reach it
Only time can tell when the clouds will reveal you again.
My one true love hidden by those gray clouds.

My New Treasure

Sitting in an old shelf in an older house,
Dust collecting in every crack and crevice,
In disrepair and missing parts,
No one ever looks at the bottom shelf.
Just sitting, watching other treasures leave you behind.
You see another pair of legs appear in the doorway,
Crouching down a girl stares at the old painted wood,
Brushing some dust off, she turns to wind up the music,
Despair as nothing is heard.
She walks off, just like the rest.
Later she returns again,
Picking up the old box and an older doll.
Downstairs to the cashier,
For once being cleaned and cared for,
Once again having music come from the ebony wood.
Being treasured by loving hands for once again.