Writingpoetry - Tumblr Posts

I wrote this as if an officer in a high-prices army please enjoy my dalliance into the cosmere

My gemheart as I speak these words I have but two regrets, the first is I cannot speak them too you in person and the second is that I must share them with anyone ardent or scribe so that they may reach you, Jezerezeh forgive me for my greed.

The passion I feel for you burns brighter than any fire and rages fiercer than any wind the Storm Father sends to us, just as the light you bring to my life shines brighter than and emerald or sapphire.

Knowing I have your heart as you have mine gives me strength greater than the shardplate I now bear and makes even the changing seasons as immaterial as a Kremling beating on the back of a greatshell.

When winters cold bites and my hands and face I turn towards the memory of your embrace and find the very snow melting before such warmth. When the heat of summer beats down upon my back I seek for hints of your songs on the breeze and stand all the taller for your voice is more refreshing than even water from the center of the Purelake.

As the nights pass into days and those into weeks I find myself not mourning that I have spent more time away from you but emboldened in the knowledge that every Strom that passes I am that much closer the seeing you again my gemheart.

Until the moment you bring light and life the weeping that is your absence, Almighty bless that day come soon, Your loving husband. Talenilid

I have seen moonlight reflected off dragonscales that does not hold a candle to the light of your smile.

I have held saphires and diamonds that in comparison to your eyes are but shards of broken sea-glass.

Even when floating in a hotsprings in the center of caldera I felt frozen when rembering the warmth of your touch.

When asked of dances I have attended the only one I can recall is that private ball we held beneath the aurora, dancing with the lights as the flowers you wove into our hair sprang free.

There exists no spell, be it cast by witch or warlock, lich or sphinx that could tear me free the enchantment of your gaze when I am so graced to be lost in it.

Nor is there a single dungeon cell or keeps battlements that could slow me when on the path to reunite with you, my Paramore.

You hold both the heart in my chest and breath in my lungs, and I happily give to you the rest of me as long as you will have it.

So to the one who's kiss is lighter than butterflies embrace and whos voice is than honeyed wine I yearn for you every moment and love you more than I can say.

Worry not how ever for soon I will be in your arms once more and be able to translate that love through my actions the first of which will be to take you off your feet and into my spinning embrace.

I do not make art, I transcribe memories, visages, and stories into the bones of the world. To make moments in time stand eternal in marbleline glory. Whittling can be beautiful, too, but it can burn away or decay over time. Paint chips and fades as easily as seasons change, but not stone. Statues weather time and conditions as though they were apart from it all. Yes, it can be broken, but so can everything if you hit it hard enough. Painting is easier, of course, but fickle and fleeting. Woodworking, while similar isn't as reliable, each tree may have hidden knots or rot, and the depth of the art isn't on the same level as marble or granite. Stone, however, given the right set of tools and time enough to provide proper care and love, can become almost clear in one's hand. With a few strokes, you can make what was a sheer face into a veil hiding a maidens dignity or show the veins and muscles twisting under the skin of a great beast. Even Flora, such as a wizened oak or sprouting crown of Thorns, can be forever cherished in the ground beneath you. With stone you can capture man beast or scenery and make it live forever, eternalize things that would normally pass into history like sand unto the ocean and by doing so forever change the lives of any who bear witness to such works. This is what I do. This is my calling. That is what it means to be a Mason.

There is no greater curse than duty.

No heavier chains than that invisible word that has doomed so many.

Duty that bound a knight to an abandoned tower because his kind said it needed to be held, and so he held it to his dying breath through teary eyes at his failure. For once he was dead none would watch the tower and his oath would be shattered.

Duty that bent a man's will and hunched his shoulders because his gods asked him take on all the pain of his people when he healed them, even as plague and monsoons tore through his village. In the name of duty he bore it all until his hair greyed, knees buckled, and limits were reached.

Duty that made a champion abandon the oath that would return to her her slaughtered family. Her own husband and children because she vowed to take the path beside it to beat back the darkness that took them.

Duty the led a general of righteous heart and unbreakable will to drive his own sword through his chest because his lord in a fit of madness declared all who disagreed with him to be put to death this very instant.

Nothing will fill a man's chest with pride like hearing those he follows, or loves intrust him with such a thing, and nothing will break him like a vow for sacrifice is an integral piece of their puzzle.

Duty is a double edged sword it has been said but what they do not tell you is that only the edge facing the weilder holds an edge.

When someone is damaged by duty it is almost always those who are tasked with upholding it and even when others are cut it is only because they stood behind and with whoever shoulders the original burden.

Duty is a curse and under my breath in my darkest moment I damn those who placed it upon me, but a promise made is a promise kept and this duty is the curse I will bear until the mountains that bore witness to its utterance turn to sand and blow away in the wind eons from now.

You are what I think of in reverie and what I dream of in pleasnetry.

Like a shinning full moon you brighten my mood.

I do not fall for you, but hastily plumit.

It is for your hand I fly past the worlds summits.

It is Aphrodite you embody with your every waking breath,

For I am a priest and you my goddess.

Your Sylvain embrace I still feel,

The absence of which I will never see heal.

Eyes like jewels set in alabaster,

And so enchanted I shall willingly give myself to their capture.

Voice like an angels lullaby,

Morose will be the hour I hear its goodbye .

Drunk on you like cherry wine,

Enraptured by your presence that is nothing but divine.

The need to see you once again corses through me like a snakes venom,

Until I am next you I will be most Solemn.

I wish to be the sun too your bright blue sky for ever embraced by your love for all to see.

At night the stars twinkle and dance with the moon all too like the butterflies you often bless upon me.

Softer than clouds and lighter than a gust of wind, I know no matter what has happened if im embraced by your touch my troubles and worries will always mend.

Your smile is like a double rainbow, bright, magical and will always brighten up where ever it shines.

Eyes like an eclipse, awe inspiringly dark, yet somehow still shine dazzlingly and not too mention one of a kind.

A cosmic deity beyond my understanding as mysterious as the milkyway yet describable with one beautiful word : Perfect.

A dress as red as the rose braided into her hair

Stargazing eyes that could entrap even Narcisus in that stare

A smile brighter than the sun drawn by Apollo

To even think of a world absent her beauty would be to feel hollow

Steel grey ever changing eyes as gorgeous as the clear blue skies

Her hair black like the night sky full of stars that she puts to shame and flowing like every waterfall thats ever known fame

And when she speaks it is with a voice that too could be compared to music, if there ever was a melody that could match such silken tones

When she laughs so to do we for her joy is infectious and to deny it would be coy

She stands a queen a goddess and an angel to all those who have ever learned the word beautiful

Would that we were alone so that I may leave a memory of my affections left emblazoned upon your skin in the form of passionate bruises.

For when ever your visage comes to mind upon a sea of love, and lust, and longing does my heart sail upon.

Wishing for the gods to grant mine wishes and let every moment in your presence go ever on and on.

Oh the miles I would walk in blistering heat and, the oceans swim submerged in biting cold to hold you mine angel until we grew old.

To gaze at your person as the years tried and failed to take your beauty from you for how can you take beauty away from they who embody it.

Oh muse of mine, while they will forever lack the luster required to encompass all that is you, you stand my inspiration for all of the beauty I doth see and the words I doth weave made from silk honey.

For how best could one such as myself or better describe that which cannot be put to mere letters.

Lipstick stains upon my neck

Lines of lusts passing across my back

Lingering tastes of your lips upon mine

Lord how I wish we were frozen in that time

Beautiful bruises across your thighs

Back when your legs sat shoulder high

Boundless bliss from our embraces

Bubbling joy rushing to our faces

Fingers like pens upon your skin

Fantastic alphabets memorized within

Forever you run through my mind

Flawless is your visage regardless of time

Only alive when enraptured by your eyes

Once more in heaven for you are my divine

On top of the world when our hands intertwine

Overjoyed by your love that is my ultimate prize

Divine is the bliss we share

Dreams cannot begin to compare

Drowning in your kiss forgetting the need for air

Delighting in the touch of one so fair

Gasping for breath after breathing you in

Greedily pulling you closer lest I loose you

Goddess of my life who I now worship so

Graciously intoxicated by your visage

I miss your touch like the rose misses the sun

And alike the rose I am cold in the absence of your warmth.

It feels like everything around me has frozen over and all that can save me is the heat of your passion and fire in your body.

With every waking moment you steal my breath down to the last gasp. All that can save me is to embrace you in a kiss so deep that I can take back the breath that was rightfully mine, and some of your breath as well.

My back is a blank canvas meant for your maze of scratch work patterns and my only goal now is to send you into a craze of lust filled inspiration to carve your masterpiece exactly where it belongs.

Where ever I am blessed enough too explore your body oh so divine I plan to leave a trail of wine red bite marks as we begin to roll around, drunken on each other's touch.

I crave the feeling of your hands pushing me away as you get closer and closer when your eyes glaze over with the look I have become oh so addicted too. I crave the soarness in my arms from fighting to keep you in place so you may still reach that moment many times after the first.

To summarize all that has been said, I miss you, I lust for you, I crave, no I need you. Wonderful, handsome, beautiful, enchanting, magical you. I can only hope you need me too.

Oh my dearest beloved please take heed when I tell you of the depths of my affection for while I admit I drone ever on for this topic it is part of how I love.

When I lay awake at night with a heart overflowing with love I must find something to do with this excess so I write of you and how just your memory eases my distress.

When my sugar cravings make everything in the cabinet seem bland I need only call for my dearest because your presence is like nectar my love.

In those days when my well of socializing has run dry it always finds a secret reserve for the one who sets my heart ablaze for you erase the need for words such as solitude.

Some people express their love through touch, adorning their partners with embraces softer than a chill winters air, others will do it by acting out their love in wonderful displays of Cooking. I however need to write.

I need to put pen to paper and ink to parchment and infuse each stroke with the drops from the endless sea of fondness that stirs within me.

I love by using what words exist today in dazzling dances of vocabulary in an attempt to give definitions to words that do not and may not ever exist because no mortal tounge can translate this devotion you inspire.

I love by making sure that even after I have long since shed my mortal coil and the forest that we use to dance in has fossilized itself unto stone that my love for you can still be close at hand for when the days seem painted over with grey and gloom.

I write because that is what someone does when given a glimpse of Divinity, I make holy doctrine and religious texts full of nothing but devotion to a deity I am never worthy of and forever greatful to.

My Paramore I write to and of you because this is how I love and I know no other way that I can show it so truthfully.

My hands cannot make statues or paintings or jewelry or meals with the gusto some can provide. My touch alone cannot convey all to you that I have to express. Only my words have the strength to carry such passion. Each sentence an embodiment of Atlas or Hercules, given the Olympic task of holding a sliver of the love in my heart to you when and wherever you reside when you need them most.

I only ask that you forgive me for the torrents of text and piles of poetry, and promise that one day in the decades to come I will find a way to consolidate my writings if ever possible.

Slowly I began to forget who's air I was breathing anymore as what was suppose to be a kiss goodbye turned into my reason to stay. Paralyzed nearly with indecision on whether to let that kiss live until the sun rose or tear myself from its embrace to share that kiss with your entire figure.

As that night of bliss and ecstacy waged on the skin around my neck faded from its natural color to the hue of your lipstick, my back carved from a blank canvas into a masterpiece of pain and pleasure, trailing new pathways like a rock gardens maze.

Bruises of passion and lust began to bleed into life across your neck, chest, and all along your legs. My hair began to tangle around your hands, becoming trapped inside their grip as you held my head low.

No longer needing to know whose air I was holding in my lungs for the sight of your face twisted with bliss took it all away.

As we became enchanted and drunken on one anothers touch time became fickle. Hours turned to minutes and the night seemed to slip away and fall back into view once more as the day flew past us like a song on the wind.

Finaly we fell into the bed from exhaustion our bodies sore and spent. Your head lay upon my chest riding the pattern of my labored breath as I damned the need for sleep, for how could I welcome time apart from you.

Divine though was the site of you in the morning, my first sight to what can only be a perfect day brought on by the beat of our matching hearts.

Damned again was the alarm that woke you too the real world and too the fact you had to leave. Would that I could freeze time around us so we may never part. Until I learn such a spell I shall stay placated in the fact your always in my mind and of course my heart as it was yours the moment I saw you.

I crave them the way a chisel hungers for marble to carve into statues or in the way a brush thirsts for undiscovered blends of pigment to freeze a moment in time.

The one who is my muse has taken over my every thought waking or dreaming, writing over my forethought with reckless abandon like an author at the height of their narrative avalanche.

In the absence of his mystifying touch my skin feels like a blank canvas collecting dust in an attic. I want nothing more than to have him cast aside the trapdoor make of me a masterpiece that any who saw would recognize as his handiwork.

I need nothing more than for him to paint a landscape across my neck with lips and teeth, to carve into my back mixing nail and skin to bring out a bold and crimson pigment.

I can't be satisfied until even the air I breathe in that moment is indistinguishable from his because we have kissed so deeply for so long.

Oh and how I long to return the favor and mold his pleasure too newfound heights like a Potter at the wheel.

Too etch into his thighs and collar bone collages of my own with a tasteful blend of ice and wax to perfectly find his melting point.

Like a master conductor I am in a spell of inspiration as I drive his voice to new symphonies, the trembling in his legs the only applause I need.

In that moment of bliss we moved from theatere to table and with my muse as the chef I am ravenous to taste the honeyed nectar he gifts me, and with a desert so divine how could I not kiss the chef and in doing so let him share in the first of many courses to come.

This is for a dnd character/book character I've made, a barbarian with an eyepatch but no other scars people can see, hope yall enjoy!

Long have I seen your sideways stares and whispered inquiries at my injury my comrades, also have I heard whispers of the bets in place over how I lost my eye so long ago, so gather around if you wish to hear once and for all the truth of the matter, for I dare say none of you may have guessed the truth of this mystery.

You see it is a simple and yet shocking thing that lead to my partial Blindness, a wonderful act of love and sacrifice did gift me this scar if it can be called that, and because of this I brandish it proudly.

Years ago I cared for nothing but adventure and glory, seeking unwinnable battles to claim victory over and sights unseen and yet unsung by any. Ever has my heart yearned for what lies beyond the next bend of the ground before me. Then, thoughts of my adventures and the wonders I'd found were washed away by the a glimpse of the one to whom I cannot begin to describe in full and can only call cosmicly divine.

From the moment I laid my unworthy eyes upon them with that hair of flowing midnight and eyes the silvery blue of only shared with that of comets I found myself wholey starstruck and enchanted by the infinite expanse of their beauty.

In that splitsecond that to my mind blissfully stretched on and on, I knew no matter what ever else I may find in life my sight could ever dream of comparing too my newfound deity of incandescence before me, and vowed that they would be the last thing I would see. For what better sight could one hope for when shedding this mortal coil of life than heaven incarnate beckoning you into its arms.

I knew I could not fulfill that oath by daring to never leave my loves side, for even the flames of the sun that envies them would soon be snuffed for lack of oxygen if it was smothered so. Naturally this would not do.

Nor would I be able too carry on my person a relief of that blessed countenance for two reasons. First of those being that no painting, drawing, or carving could capture the entirety of their unending beauty for I know of no artist so skilled as to capture infinity in a still image. Second being that I know I have not the strength in my heart to carry on my person such a sliver of Divinity lest it be tarnished by my bloody and mud covered work. While it is true it would for ever fall short I have not the heart to stain any retelling of your visage.

Lost in that turmoil I found my answer in a place far too often overlooked by many, the words of mine own mother. With her voice echoing wisdom in my ears battling my paramores image at the forefront of my mind I took their hand in mine And spilling all these feelings I hold now out to her and my purpose in doing so asked for my dearests permission to take the appropriate action.

Thinking my proclamation a jest they gleefully signaled me to continue and always being a man of extremes I took the knife from my belt and put razors edge to curved socket, insuring that at least in part my eternal Deity of light and beauty would be the last thing I would witness and all I had to give for such a holy privilege was one measly eye.

Only did I regret that my action brought tears to those glistening orbs of theirs out of empathy for my pain as their hands as soft as snow dabbed at my wound with a cloth all the while proclaiming me a wonder but idiotic fool. To help console them I had only to draw their cerulean gaze to my checks where no tears did flow, for pain is a fleeting thing I am old friends with in the face of a love so true I swore to give to them.

After all what tears need be shed for the loss of a single eye, for my mother did say love is a blind thing and so blind I shall be for who am I to deny such a law of nature.

Now even to this day my darling dearest does often scold me light heartedly for my actions, a scolding I take with a wink and a smile for if I am a fool then I declare myself the happiest fool to walk the land. No matter where this life takes me or where my road may end I rest easy each night with the certainty that when the light of my life is smothered by shade, and I spend my last breath thanking my beloved for allowing me to spend my life with them it will be their Holy and Celestial visage that takes my hand and walks me into the next life, a life I plan to use chasing them down once more.

I have found within myself a newfound strengthening of faith I thought long abandoned, rekindled in the face of recent terrors for this pain I feel in my chest is to real to be anything but intentional.

This torment that rages both in my heart and mind from your absence can only be just punishment from heaven for the hubris I've shown in revealing my love for you.

Until I laid eyes on you for the first time in waking life, I had always discarded the saying "God made us all in their image" but in that moment I knew it was a half truth.

I realized he had tried time and time again to recreate his image with each of us, mere rough drafts he had cast aside until you sprang from that quill. While we may all be in his image only you are God's mirror for there is no earthly way to explain such divine perfection.

A perfection that let bloom the seed of passion and love and lust that I hold for you and have since I first drew breath. It simply did not know it was yours to grow and blossom for until it entered your awe inspiring gaze.

A gaze so brilliant the stars fling themselves down from the sky for they will never shine so bright, a gaze so warm that the sun weeps at how frozen it finds itself by comparison, a gaze so cosmically breathtaking I want nothing more than to spend infinity in their stare.

I have found within myself a newfound strengthening of faith I thought long abandoned, rekindled in the face of recent terrors for this pain I feel in my chest is to real to be anything but intentional.

This torment that rages both in my heart and mind from your absence can only be just punishment from heaven for the hubris I've shown in revealing my love for you.

Until I laid eyes on you for the first time in waking life, I had always discarded the saying "God made us all in their image" but in that moment I knew it was a half truth.

I realized he had tried time and time again to recreate his image with each of us, mere rough drafts he had cast aside until you sprang from that quill. While we may all be in his image only you are God's mirror for there is no earthly way to explain such divine perfection.

A perfection that let bloom the seed of passion and love and lust that I hold for you and have since I first drew breath. It simply did not know it was yours to grow and blossom for until it entered your awe inspiring gaze.

A gaze so brilliant the stars fling themselves down from the sky for they will never shine so bright, a gaze so warm that the sun weeps at how frozen it finds itself by comparison, a gaze so cosmically breathtaking I want nothing more than to spend infinity in their stare.

Were I born without sight I would still know you and your visage in an instant for yours is a beauty than even angels from above cannot fully look upon and so sight is a poor modicum to remeber it by

Were I born deaf I would still find my heart beating to the rhythm of the melody of your voice for it is a song that is felt in one's soul as well as heard so what use would hearing be to name it among a chorus

And were my voice torn from me this very instant I would still find the means to relay the wildfire you have ignited in my heart for no words even these of honey and silver can transcribe the love I have found for you in my heart so what need do I have of this voice

Also I dare say that if I were stranded in the middle of a dessert in the height of summer I would but batt an eye at the torrent of heat beating down for I have held close the muse who is born of constellations and center of the suns envy so how could a mere summer wave even dream of comparing to such a blaze of beauty and light

Let us say the opposite was true and I was trapped in the tundra at the winter solstice that I would neither weather the cold or be at worry of losing my way home for as said before my love is a radiant light that would serve as my North star and whose mere memory would supply all warmth I would need to withstand biting cold and howling blizzard that may stand between me and my incandescent Paramore.

All of this too say that while I may soon find myself with the ferryman at the river nyx that whatever life I am blessed with next be it a orchid in the gardens you tend or a bird aloft the breezes you sing too I will find you again too gleefully lay before the entirety of that life's years as well.

I do not make art, I transcribe memories, visages, and stories into the bones of the world. To make moments in time stand eternal in marbleline glory. Whittling can be beautiful too but it can burn away, or decay over time. Paint chips and fades as easily as seasons change., but not stone. Statues weather time and conditions as though they were apart from it all. Yes it can be broken but so can everything if you hit it hard enough. Painting is easier of course but fickle and fleeting. Woodworking while similar isn't as reliable, each tree may have hidden knots or rot, and the depth of the art isn't on the same level as marble or granite. Stone however, given the right set of tools and and time enough to provide proper care and love can become almost clear in one's hand. With a few strokes you can make what was a sheer face into a veil hiding a maidens dignity, or show the veins and muscles twisting under the skin of a great beast. Even Flora such as a wizened oak or sprouting crown of Thorns can be forever cherished in the ground beneath you. With stone you can capture man beast or scenery and make it live forever, eternalize things that would normally pass into history like sand unto the ocean and by doing so forever change the lives of any who bear witness to such works. This is what I do, this is my calling. That is what it means to be a Mason.

Long have been the winters that have come and gone in the eternity between sightings of the one my heart belongs too.

A back once has strong has since bent low, a heartbeat flittering and passionate now does slow, the sand in my hourglass' bottom has grown.

Though I have aged and long since changed with certainty I can tell you her visage has doubtlessly stayed much the same, altered not by time or strain.

For she who brought light and wonder into my life is of elven blood, a queen of the fae whose beauty is equaled by none.

She did share a love with me and many an embrace but fleeting is the attenoktions of one who has seen so many an age.

Duties did call my dearest far and away, but of me she asked that I wait and stay. Quick would be her task or so she did say.

But a redwood does not see a drought in a similar manor too the sapling of an oak who will soon wither away.

Decades to my love of the fairest of folk would be but a trifle absence and little before had she loved one shackled with the mortal yoke.

Long has been my wait, and still my love and hope stay strong, that she will return to me with each and every dawn.

I did give her my word and to it I shall hold in the knowledge she shall stay true to hers before death itself takes me unto its fold.

Should it come that I shall pass before I hold again my Elven lass I write this now so she weeps not for our love still stands.

For my heart burns brighter that any and every star, it matters now how close or far. I only apologize I am but a man and could not escape her absence unmarred.

But worry not and do not weep, for rest assured her word my love shall keep. Goodbye for now and goodnight I long only too see your smile once more shine through night.

Have I told you why the gods made us with a heart to the left and not at our core? When they first sent us into this world our hearts sat in the center of our chest hugged by our lungs and shielded by our sternum secure and sound and yet in safety it found only solitude.

Locked away in its Fortress of ivory our hearts could not feel the pound of someone else's heart making it nigh impossible to find the rhythmic percussion of our soul mates heart among the countless people we would meet. So the gods taking a chance did the only thing they could think of. Take a chance.

They moved our vascular battery too the left so that our ribs could still protect it and serve as a chamber to bend and reflect the sound we searched for so desperately. This way when two lovers would embrace they music of their hearts could melt together in one another chest to write the song of their love. A song I morn my loss of even if only temporary.

The moment our embrace ended all I could feel was the last echo of our song ending in what I can only call an utter silence unbroken and even deepened by the now isolated sound of my own heart. A silence I cannot wait to shatter with warm and rejuvenating return of your touch.

I hope the passing of this knowledge and words of love will make our time apart easier my love, until then I shall wait ever impatiently for the time when I can hold you once more and feel the rebirth of the percussive melody of our .