News: My thoughts are clouds I cannot fathom into pastries.

--1 June 2018--

Quote: Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest of hearts. --Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

The Fellowship

September 18, 2011

"Stark Black" by Squeaks

I wanted to share a little something with you folks. This is a poem I wrote. I started it yesterday and finished it today. Perhaps you can figure out what I'm talking about. Anyways, I dedicated this to my dad on his birthday :) which is today :P 

Last year I wrote a short story, "The Agony" (don't have the link at the moment, but it's in the archives) and got amazing response on that. I agree that it was moving and personal...this poem is not so much. It's more...peaceful. It doesn't have an allegory, just a bit of a riddle (which is -- you must determine for yourself what is being spoken of), however that's pretty basic stuff. I wanted to dedicate some time to writing a piece of actual meaning and importance. Something that would grip the soul, but I didn't have a chance to today or yesterday -- only time for a wee poem. Now before I blather any more I'll let you actually read the poem :D 



Stark Black
by Squeaks
17 September, 2011

Dripping nonchalantly into china,
Slowly meandering down creamy hills
To swirl within a void of darkness
Splashed aside by light.
The hills are melting
Slenderly they slope downwards,
Encompassing the vast gulch
Embracing it with arms as wide as an ocean.

A soothing aroma curls to the heavens,
Gallantly pushing aside froth
Large waves of deep thought
Against the sides of Victorian charm
Tinkling now and then,
A proverbial stone rolls down
Cascading crystals everywhere.
Tiny specks of white dissolve under the surf
Radially spiraling downwards
Never to see the sun again.

Oh what I would give for a drip
Of Elysian gold,
Flamed through perfection
To stark black.

Avast your tired warbling, my songbird,
Return from sea to haven.
Delay your pilgrimmage one day
And escape with me
To a place of idyllic dreams
Where old abscond with young,
Exchanging whitened hospital walls
For a dreamy reverie of future bliss.


Signed with sage, 



  1. Note: this poem is not entirely finished. In fact, I don't think any piece that I compose, as a writer, is ever fully finished. This is just a rough copy...perhaps over the years I'll add more and edit it :P

  2. Could it possibly Or hot chocolate? :/ *think think think*


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