Submissions by The-Evolved-Spike
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
The one and only big bad wolfy. The y is important. I'm not really sure if I'm that any more.
LOVE POEM
Published
8th Feb 2018 10:30pm
8th Feb 2018 10:30pm
Best You Can
When your mind starts spinning and you really lack
a means of defence or a plan of attack
and it feels like the whole world is turning to black
suicidal - all right, jack
A magic solution? We both know there's not
just do the best you can with the best that you've got
Sure, nobody knows what you're going through
when you're at your wits end, you ain't got a clue
you bit off way more than you thought you could chew
There's still a way out - you know what to do
So when you're right on the edge of losing the plot
do the best...
a means of defence or a plan of attack
and it feels like the whole world is turning to black
suicidal - all right, jack
A magic solution? We both know there's not
just do the best you can with the best that you've got
Sure, nobody knows what you're going through
when you're at your wits end, you ain't got a clue
you bit off way more than you thought you could chew
There's still a way out - you know what to do
So when you're right on the edge of losing the plot
do the best...
458 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
8th Feb 2018 8:04pm
8th Feb 2018 8:04pm
Red Riding Hood
Little red riding hood, pretty and young
set off through the woods one night
Although she'd been warned, she'd no fear of the dark
when the moon overhead shone so bright
As she wended her way through the forested track
she did not go by unseen
And there came the sound of the breeze in the trees
where never the wind had been
She passed from the looming trees into a glade,
and she stopped, her ears catching sound
she knew from shiver that passed down her spine
she was followed - but she dare not turn round
She heard...
set off through the woods one night
Although she'd been warned, she'd no fear of the dark
when the moon overhead shone so bright
As she wended her way through the forested track
she did not go by unseen
And there came the sound of the breeze in the trees
where never the wind had been
She passed from the looming trees into a glade,
and she stopped, her ears catching sound
she knew from shiver that passed down her spine
she was followed - but she dare not turn round
She heard...
463 reads
0 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
7th Feb 2018 7:04am
7th Feb 2018 7:04am
Kenning
Face-breaker
Breath-stealer
Heart-taker
Pain-dealer
Dream-maker
Thought-provoker
Gasp-awaker
Growl-evoker
Flame-mind
Blade-tongue
spark-lined
song-unsung
Breath-stealer
Heart-taker
Pain-dealer
Dream-maker
Thought-provoker
Gasp-awaker
Growl-evoker
Flame-mind
Blade-tongue
spark-lined
song-unsung
490 reads
0 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
7th Feb 2018 7:03am
7th Feb 2018 7:03am
The Landscape Page
Written in the snow on a winter's night, years ago.
A land of White
a single girl of red
In both a soul's reflection
In one, see two
in two, see forever.
A promise kept
Cuvinte nerostite
tacere spunand mai mult.
ganduri dat libertate
dar niciodate forma
ignoranta simulat
in loc de decizii
si anticipare
in casul o actiune ar tribue fie.
I can't write for shit in Romanian.
This doesn't make sense.
It's a reminder.
Don't get above yourself, you idiot.
A land of White
a single girl of red
In both a soul's reflection
In one, see two
in two, see forever.
A promise kept
Cuvinte nerostite
tacere spunand mai mult.
ganduri dat libertate
dar niciodate forma
ignoranta simulat
in loc de decizii
si anticipare
in casul o actiune ar tribue fie.
I can't write for shit in Romanian.
This doesn't make sense.
It's a reminder.
Don't get above yourself, you idiot.
409 reads
0 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
15th Aug 2017 7:44pm
15th Aug 2017 7:44pm
The Highlander and the Princess
Come gather round, my children.
Hear the story told!
The knight in battered, broken steel,
The girl who made his heart to steal,
,The fates that shape and break the world,
The winds of change against them hurled,
The tale the lovers weave.
With cold wind sweeping from the north,
The highlander came riding forth.
In distant land all drenched in sun,
The princess stood, and did not run,
When all around her fled.
Her dark hair flew free in the wind,
Her gaze so deep on him was pinned,
The northern knight, in...
Hear the story told!
The knight in battered, broken steel,
The girl who made his heart to steal,
,The fates that shape and break the world,
The winds of change against them hurled,
The tale the lovers weave.
With cold wind sweeping from the north,
The highlander came riding forth.
In distant land all drenched in sun,
The princess stood, and did not run,
When all around her fled.
Her dark hair flew free in the wind,
Her gaze so deep on him was pinned,
The northern knight, in...
505 reads
1 Comment
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
15th Aug 2017 8:25am
15th Aug 2017 8:25am
Until The Last Flower Dies
Hear me well, for I tell you a story, told to me by my father, to him by his father, and to his father by a selkie, or so they say.
In a time long ago there was a time before that, and in that time there was a great castle, a citadel of huge granite blocks, with ramparts and turrets that sparkled silver in the sunlight. Around the castle the fields stretched off into the horizons, the pine and fir forests hemmed in the lands, and the mountains bit at the horizon like the teeth of the earth. In the lands circling the keep, though, the ground was thick with flowers. Lush, red...
In a time long ago there was a time before that, and in that time there was a great castle, a citadel of huge granite blocks, with ramparts and turrets that sparkled silver in the sunlight. Around the castle the fields stretched off into the horizons, the pine and fir forests hemmed in the lands, and the mountains bit at the horizon like the teeth of the earth. In the lands circling the keep, though, the ground was thick with flowers. Lush, red...
807 reads
1 Comment
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
28th Nov 2016 6:53am
28th Nov 2016 6:53am
Writing On The Hands
Stories are supposed to start in a special way. Everyone knows that. Whether it's a statement of fact like Pride and Prejudice, or Anna Karenina, or if it's something setting the scene in all its absurdity, like 1984, stories are supposed to reach out with that line and grab the reader, shake them from the world like cold water to the face. Stories are not supposed to start out coalescing slowly, an awkward conversation between friends, a meandering walk between points. That first piece shouldn't slowly come into focus.
Nevertheless, here it did, the man's reflection sharpening and...
Nevertheless, here it did, the man's reflection sharpening and...
719 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
6th May 2016 10:52pm
6th May 2016 10:52pm
Film Gris
"She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not. She loves me, she loves me n-"
The muttered cadence was cut off as I slammed a glass down in front of him. He flinched upwards to meet my gaze - brown eyes under a ragged mop of dark hair met mine with no small degree of nervousness. I nodded towards the whisky, sitting on the scuffed counter.
"For you, man - if you give the madness mantra a rest."
He nodded jerkily and gingerly sipped the fiery alcohol. I raised my glass to him and did likewise.
"For what it's worth?...
The muttered cadence was cut off as I slammed a glass down in front of him. He flinched upwards to meet my gaze - brown eyes under a ragged mop of dark hair met mine with no small degree of nervousness. I nodded towards the whisky, sitting on the scuffed counter.
"For you, man - if you give the madness mantra a rest."
He nodded jerkily and gingerly sipped the fiery alcohol. I raised my glass to him and did likewise.
"For what it's worth?...
761 reads
0 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2016 2:10am
23rd Feb 2016 2:10am
Well...hey there
I got a taste for the fine things,
a taste for the rougher -
and when things get tough
I know that I'm tougher.
I walk with a swagger
got a glint in my eye
If you say I can't do it
well you know that I'll try
I'm the big bad wolfy,
gonna howl at the moon,
I'm the big bad wolfy, babe -
be seein' ya soon.
Sometimes I cook - wonderfully
as you see, I can write
but push me the wrong way
you'll learn I can fight.
I'm a beaten-up brawler,
I'm a poetic man
and there ain't nobody else
who can do what I can.
...
a taste for the rougher -
and when things get tough
I know that I'm tougher.
I walk with a swagger
got a glint in my eye
If you say I can't do it
well you know that I'll try
I'm the big bad wolfy,
gonna howl at the moon,
I'm the big bad wolfy, babe -
be seein' ya soon.
Sometimes I cook - wonderfully
as you see, I can write
but push me the wrong way
you'll learn I can fight.
I'm a beaten-up brawler,
I'm a poetic man
and there ain't nobody else
who can do what I can.
...
673 reads
1 Comment
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
27th Jan 2016 9:27pm
27th Jan 2016 9:27pm
Love - Between Worlds
** A retelling of my previous work - "Love, encapsulated" with a different ending. Inspired by the work of Chiara Bautista. ***
It’s almost midnight, and somehow, despite the wind that shakes the trees throughout the forest, the clearing is still and quiet. The small loch is as smooth as glass, a perfect reflection of the starry skies above.
The girl sitting by the lake is enjoying the quiet. Her long dark hair sits soft and undisturbed, flowing down over her shoulders as she concentrates, looking into the dark depths of the water. In one hand she holds a pad of paper,...
It’s almost midnight, and somehow, despite the wind that shakes the trees throughout the forest, the clearing is still and quiet. The small loch is as smooth as glass, a perfect reflection of the starry skies above.
The girl sitting by the lake is enjoying the quiet. Her long dark hair sits soft and undisturbed, flowing down over her shoulders as she concentrates, looking into the dark depths of the water. In one hand she holds a pad of paper,...
1225 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
25th Jan 2016 2:41pm
25th Jan 2016 2:41pm
Love, encapsulated
** This piece was inspired by the work of Chiara Bautista, specifically the picture here: https://40.media.tumblr.com/8d3f3f938b49ea4dae3a6fb674a6c954/tumblr_nshqeylMhd1ur40zlo1_500.jpg The characters are however my own, though they draw heavily from the image ***
It’s almost midnight, and somehow, despite the wind that shakes the trees throughout the forest, the clearing is still and quiet. The small lake is as smooth as glass, a perfect reflection of the starry skies above.
The girl sitting by the lake is enjoying the quiet. Her long blonde hair sits soft and undisturbed,...
It’s almost midnight, and somehow, despite the wind that shakes the trees throughout the forest, the clearing is still and quiet. The small lake is as smooth as glass, a perfect reflection of the starry skies above.
The girl sitting by the lake is enjoying the quiet. Her long blonde hair sits soft and undisturbed,...
1030 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by The-Evolved-Spike
