Tag Archives: Poetry

Whimword – Adamant

Star Fortress Adamant

Beyond the stars we call home,
In the places where dark things roam,
Within the folds of stellar mists,
There a grand fortress sits.

At the sight of the Old Empire’s demise,
There Star Fortress Adamant lies,
A bulwark against the horrors of space,
The last protector of our benighted race.

With walls thick and gates never ajar,
Forged within the heart of a neutron star,
Bristling rail cannons and fields of plasma lance,
Launching salvoes that make foes dance.

Never yet have its walls been breached,
Nor the strength of its shields been leached,
The fortress protects from cosmic ill,
We sleep safe at night by their strength of will.

Adamant stands against stellar strife,
Its forces buying freedom with their life,
From its maw its soldiers sally forth,
To lie foes out upon reality’s swarth.

Clad are they in blood-red plate,
Mono-filament sabres held straight,
Astride steeds with hearts fuelled by anti-matter,
Their shod grav-hooves raising a clatter.

Their armour all blows it turns,
From tyrant’s claw to star-dragon burns,
Protection fierce that cannot be broke,
Nor their mighty spirits bear a yoke.

From their course they do not stray,
No matter the cost they are forced to pay,
Their home’s title no quirk of nomenclature,
Adamant by name, adamant by nature

Merry Blogmas

T’was the night before blogmas and I Y_Christmas_Tree_2was back home,

All the way up north where mammoths still roam,

Where it’s sure to be cold with the possibility of snow,

Let’s hope it doesn’t jam up the roads, but we’ll see how we go.

I’m visiting my family and there’s sure to be war,

Shouting and fighting and maybe a lot more,

I’d like to think otherwise, but I know that I’m right,

I’m just vainly hoping I’ll make it through the night.

“But how am I reading this? Is this post here by chance?”

No it is not my friend, it was scheduled in advance,

So while I knuckle under and try my best to stay alive,

To you a very, Merry Blogmas and all that associated seasonal jive. Continue reading

The Hunted

I have not done a lot of writing over the last few weeks. Recently the looming spectre of computer games has sunk its claws into my being and has stubbornly refused to let go. I’ve whiled away hour after hour amidst stealthy cyber-punk infiltration and corporate espionage; I’ve lost whole afternoons to pixelated mining; I’ve lost days to simulated space violence. I don’t regret any of this, I don’t feel too guilty about it. It was jolly good fun. But a man has obligations, a man has his patterns. This post is being hastily knocked together in the scant few moments I have before bed, with a hastily prepared dinner cooking in the oven. So in lieu of anything else to say I have delved into a back catalogue of wordascopes which are yet to see the light of day.

The Hunter watches you

Continue reading

Seconds Out

As many of you know, I am a big fan of Twitter. Through its cyber-witchcraft I keep in contact with old friends and converse with strange people I never have, and probably never will, meet. People with beards, people with hats, people with kids, people with cats. It’s an interesting place filled with interesting people. Recently, one of the myriad of misfits, misanthropes, malcontents and musers I follow posted something on their blog. The person in question is a lady operating under the pseudonym of Porridgebrain. She’s one of those artsy types. She draws, she knits, she takes fancy artistic photographs, she also writes. Her blog hosted a wee writing workshop thing until it fell by the wayside last October. It has now, however, been raised from the grave. Once a fortnight a word is posted people write things based on that word, fun is had by all. Last Monday she threw up a post with the prompt of Second, and I thought I’d have a bash at it. Continue reading