Narrative Poems
#narrative
Narrative poetry is a style of poetry which tells a story. Narrative poems aim to draw the reader into the imagination of the author, to immerse them in the story being told. Narrative poems are usually written in metered verse, but do not have to follow any particular rhythmic pattern.
The Journey
You slowly ooze
your sludgy head and foot
out of the hard yet fragile home
you carry on your back.
Eyes cautiously extend,
slimy feelers emerge and reach out
examining the air around:
all is still but the sun softly rising
so you start your long journey
across the walk in search of leafy greens.
Morning dew keeps you wet and content;
golden rays make your trail sparkle.
Thump, thump, the sidewalk shakes;
you feel the pounding getting closer.
A shadow overhead covers you in darkness,
and you crawl as...
your sludgy head and foot
out of the hard yet fragile home
you carry on your back.
Eyes cautiously extend,
slimy feelers emerge and reach out
examining the air around:
all is still but the sun softly rising
so you start your long journey
across the walk in search of leafy greens.
Morning dew keeps you wet and content;
golden rays make your trail sparkle.
Thump, thump, the sidewalk shakes;
you feel the pounding getting closer.
A shadow overhead covers you in darkness,
and you crawl as...
#fate
#fiction
#narrative #nature
#narrative #nature
40 reads
0 Comments
L.A. Gangsters '79
In the shadows of the city,
where the nights are long,
Whispers of the alleyways,
sing a dangerous song.
Neon lights are flickering,
casting ghosts in the dark,
Every corner tells a story,
every heartbeat leaves a mark.
Living life on the edge,
crossing every line.
In the streets of the city,
where the danger's alive,
Fighting for survival,
just to stay in the grind.
Leather and chrome,
they ride through the night,
Brothers in arms,
ready for the fight.
...
where the nights are long,
Whispers of the alleyways,
sing a dangerous song.
Neon lights are flickering,
casting ghosts in the dark,
Every corner tells a story,
every heartbeat leaves a mark.
Living life on the edge,
crossing every line.
In the streets of the city,
where the danger's alive,
Fighting for survival,
just to stay in the grind.
Leather and chrome,
they ride through the night,
Brothers in arms,
ready for the fight.
...
#narrative
#ShortStory
49 reads
2 Comments
Feuer mit Schwertern
Das Feuer tanzt auf blankem Stahl
Ein Funkensprung im finstren Saal
Die Klinge singt, ein Lied so wild
Im Flammenschein wird Blut erfüllt
For the English speakers:
The fire dances on the blade
A spark ignites where shadows fade
The sword it sings, a song of strife
In fiery glow, it drinks of life
Ein Funkensprung im finstren Saal
Die Klinge singt, ein Lied so wild
Im Flammenschein wird Blut erfüllt
For the English speakers:
The fire dances on the blade
A spark ignites where shadows fade
The sword it sings, a song of strife
In fiery glow, it drinks of life
#fire
#metaphor
#narrative
#rhyming
#strength
40 reads
0 Comments
Dynasty
Upon the throne of shadows, doubt did cling
The Valois heir, a flame in tempest vast
Erect in poise, as marble gods in spring
Bore fate's great weight, unyielding to the blast
Beneath his feet, the soil of France did groan
A kingdom cleft by war’s unholy strife
Yet, like the Parian stone, his form was shown
Unmarred, a sculptor's dream brought into life
The Seine did whisper, winds through arches vast
Of triumphs yet to come, of crowns foretold
And every pillar, every stone, held fast
To echo Valois' tale in ages cold
...
The Valois heir, a flame in tempest vast
Erect in poise, as marble gods in spring
Bore fate's great weight, unyielding to the blast
Beneath his feet, the soil of France did groan
A kingdom cleft by war’s unholy strife
Yet, like the Parian stone, his form was shown
Unmarred, a sculptor's dream brought into life
The Seine did whisper, winds through arches vast
Of triumphs yet to come, of crowns foretold
And every pillar, every stone, held fast
To echo Valois' tale in ages cold
...
#freedom
#military
#narrative
#passion
#responsibility
52 reads
0 Comments
Hear It Calling
Beneath the loam, where silence breeds
A shadow stirs in restless plight
I buried him, my crime unheeds
Yet feel his clawing in the night
His voice, a rasp through fetid air
A specter’s hymn, a curse untamed
It bids me down the stairs in despair
Yet no tongue speaks the damned unnamed
Scratch, scratch beneath the floor’s tight grain
The boards do shudder at his call
Each groan and creak becomes a chain
That binds my soul to rise and fall
The grave exhales its rancid breath
A miasma cold, my guilt laid bare ...
A shadow stirs in restless plight
I buried him, my crime unheeds
Yet feel his clawing in the night
His voice, a rasp through fetid air
A specter’s hymn, a curse untamed
It bids me down the stairs in despair
Yet no tongue speaks the damned unnamed
Scratch, scratch beneath the floor’s tight grain
The boards do shudder at his call
Each groan and creak becomes a chain
That binds my soul to rise and fall
The grave exhales its rancid breath
A miasma cold, my guilt laid bare ...
#death
#narrative
#night
#nightmares
#shadows
46 reads
0 Comments
Avid Readers Staring into Glory at 1600 Central; myself
They rest atop a smoothly weathered rock with intials carved in its face from a time long since quietly forsaken where amidst the dying leaves they bask in a chasm of words between better left unsaid as it’s nourished by the tacit bond of the experience the two share and the sun recedes in jaded capitulation behind the foothills to the sunken west. Before I can indulge an internal inkling of misanthropic malice with which to cast aspersions she reaches her rays as if to lay a calming hand o’er my heart.
I
start away, sauntering
without aim. Soon I’...
I
start away, sauntering
without aim. Soon I’...
#fall
#narrative
52 reads
0 Comments
Blood In The Loch, Freedom Flowing Fjord
By loch and glen, the shadows grow
The heather drinks the twilight’s glow
With Robert’s men, we ride as one
Beneath the moon, behind the sun
The confessor marches with blades of steel
Their boots do crush the Highland’s keel
But o’er the fjord, the echoes ring
With battle songs we proudly sing
Through mist and stone, our paths are made
The sword our guide, the bow our trade
The stag does leap, the raven cries
And freedom lights the coldest skies
We strike by night, a shadow’s blade
In Bruce’s name, the price is...
The heather drinks the twilight’s glow
With Robert’s men, we ride as one
Beneath the moon, behind the sun
The confessor marches with blades of steel
Their boots do crush the Highland’s keel
But o’er the fjord, the echoes ring
With battle songs we proudly sing
Through mist and stone, our paths are made
The sword our guide, the bow our trade
The stag does leap, the raven cries
And freedom lights the coldest skies
We strike by night, a shadow’s blade
In Bruce’s name, the price is...
#death
#environment
#narrative
#rhyming
#war
30 reads
0 Comments
King Crimson- In The Wake Of Poseidon
During the US tour in late 1969, King Crimson imploded. Ian McDonald and Michael Giles had too much too soon and would depart to record an eponymous record. Similarly, Greg Lake had met up with Keith Emerson (formerly of The Nice) while on tour and agreed to form a band upon their return to the UK. (Emerson, Lake & Palmer) Robert Fripp & Peter Sinfield were left with the reigns of the band and faced the task of recording the follow-up. (though both Lake & Giles did make contributions to the album with the latter's brother Peter adding bass). In March of 1970 Robert Fripp was asked...
#historical
#music
#narrative #nonfiction
#narrative #nonfiction
55 reads
4 Comments
King Crimson- In The Court Of The Crimson King
King Crimson were an English based Progressive Rock band that formed in London in 1968.
The roots of King Crimson start pre-1969 with the light-weight, pop efforts of Giles, Giles & Fripp. After failing to get any gigs what so ever and receiving a dismal response from anyone who heard them, Pete Giles left. Around the end of 1968 Pete's brother Mike and Robert Fripp conceived King Crimson and added Ian McDonald on reeds, Greg Lake on bass and vocals and lyricist Peter Sinfield, who was McDonald's songwriting partner became the bands fifth member. King Crimson was born.
...
The roots of King Crimson start pre-1969 with the light-weight, pop efforts of Giles, Giles & Fripp. After failing to get any gigs what so ever and receiving a dismal response from anyone who heard them, Pete Giles left. Around the end of 1968 Pete's brother Mike and Robert Fripp conceived King Crimson and added Ian McDonald on reeds, Greg Lake on bass and vocals and lyricist Peter Sinfield, who was McDonald's songwriting partner became the bands fifth member. King Crimson was born.
...
#historical
#music
#narrative #nonfiction
#narrative #nonfiction
95 reads
10 Comments
Drive
From the Walternate Universes
Delta – 2.0
I had taken a day off from work
There was a lot to think about, to plan and write
I was home alone with nothing but time
When a familiar portal opened nearby
It was my old amigo, my (W)alter ego
Spinning a set of car keys on his index finger
“Bro” I said as we hugged, he smiled and said…
“Let’s go for a drive”
The portal led to a barnlike garage
The sight in front of me left me speechless and stirred
As I walked around the car the top automatically came...
Delta – 2.0
I had taken a day off from work
There was a lot to think about, to plan and write
I was home alone with nothing but time
When a familiar portal opened nearby
It was my old amigo, my (W)alter ego
Spinning a set of car keys on his index finger
“Bro” I said as we hugged, he smiled and said…
“Let’s go for a drive”
The portal led to a barnlike garage
The sight in front of me left me speechless and stirred
As I walked around the car the top automatically came...
#narrative
#ShortStory
86 reads
8 Comments
Single Action Sacrilege
In dust and dawn, 'neath blood-red skies
Where sun and shadow meet their ties
Rode I, a man of ragged creed
With six cold shots for holy need
The iron on my hip, it lay
A relic forged in darker clay
Its name was Sacrilege, they said
And many a soul it sent to bed
A cross engraved upon its spine
But tarnished black by deed and time
A saint once blessed its silver bore
But now it thirsted evermore
They claimed that steel could damn a man
To fire his soul from God’s own plan
Yet vengeance called, and blood it...
Where sun and shadow meet their ties
Rode I, a man of ragged creed
With six cold shots for holy need
The iron on my hip, it lay
A relic forged in darker clay
Its name was Sacrilege, they said
And many a soul it sent to bed
A cross engraved upon its spine
But tarnished black by deed and time
A saint once blessed its silver bore
But now it thirsted evermore
They claimed that steel could damn a man
To fire his soul from God’s own plan
Yet vengeance called, and blood it...
#dark
#death
#evil
#narrative
#shadows
47 reads
0 Comments
Whispers On The Twilight Air
Soft whispers rise upon the twilight air
As day doth wane and shadows gather near
The sun’s last breath, so golden and so fair
Doth cast its glow upon the spire clear
Towering stones, in solemn grandeur crowned
Embrace the hues of dusk’s celestial fire
While distant choirs in holy strains resound
And fill the night with echoes that inspire
The fading light doth gently play and dance
Upon the ancient stones, both firm and cold
And in this hour, the soul feels sweet romance
A fleeting warmth in evening’s tender hold
...
As day doth wane and shadows gather near
The sun’s last breath, so golden and so fair
Doth cast its glow upon the spire clear
Towering stones, in solemn grandeur crowned
Embrace the hues of dusk’s celestial fire
While distant choirs in holy strains resound
And fill the night with echoes that inspire
The fading light doth gently play and dance
Upon the ancient stones, both firm and cold
And in this hour, the soul feels sweet romance
A fleeting warmth in evening’s tender hold
...
#dawn
#meditation
#narrative
#night
#rhyming
67 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Narrative Poems