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Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

Moonlight on the River

 

Moonlight on the river.

Starlight on the snow.

An angry tide, arising...

The screaming of a soul.

 

Moonlight on the river.

Starlight on the snow.

Bitter winds, ablowing...

A desolate crossing, now.

 

Moonlight on the river.

Starlight on the snow.

Blood upon her hands.

Tears now stain her face.

 

Moonlight on the river.

Starlight on the snow.

A single line of footprints,

Pressed into the sand.

 

Moonlight on the river.

Starlight on the snow.

Alone she walks,

Upon a foreign shore.

 

Moonlight on the river.

Starlight on the snow.

Blood dry upon her hands,

Tears, a salty, lingering trace.

 

Moonlight on the river.

Starlight on the snow.

Alone, wayfarer adrift,

Trapped in a cold dark place.

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'

Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

Strangeways to Nowhere

 

Strangeways to nowhere,

Ducky, faded yellow rubber,

Whirling down a drain.

A paper boat floundering,

Amidst a gutter's torrents, swollen by the rain.

 

Promontory jutting out, cleaving from the coast,

Far below, the teeming brine,

The broken tears and agony,

Ripped from the breast of a faded ghost.

A single line of footprints pressed into the sand.

 

Pixie dust brushed away; a faery, here, lies dead.

All because a single line, no longer spoken,

A simple phrase no longer dreamt or said.

Poison in the water, poison on the wind.

Strangeways to nowhere, a dead end path ahead.

 

Strangeways to nowhere, spoons bending in the night.

Things that should and shouldn't be...

Things done wrong and a few, maybe, done just right.

Doorways, pathways, highways, byways,

No ways and right ways.

 

Footprints in the sand, stemming from a place.

Following the wailing, chasing an ancient duck,

Still floating, drifting with the eddies,

A head above the water, watching for a beloved face,

Who remembers the strangeways to nowhere.

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'

Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

Lion of Winter

 

An indigo sail kissed by molten riches,

Billowing to a high and mighty breadth,

Unfurled and blowing, small rents peek and glow.

Eyes opened by a comet's flight,

Fading stars chasing down the morn'

Voice of the nocturne,

Wafting down the way,

The way,

Strangeways to Nowhere,

A path hidden by the light,

A way known only to the dreamers,

The chasers of a certain, drifting duck,

Who have followed it through the night.

 

Voice of the nocturne,

Singing with sail,

The snap and billow,

The mourning of a siren's words,

The verse of a willow,

As by the bank it stands, weeping.

Gone beyond its sight,

The duck and the dreamers passed

Chasing the Strangeways to Nowhere,

Searching for a half broken, full glass.

Looking and seeing,

Quicksilver forged.

 

Within these paths,

These Strangeways to Nowhere,

The duck can only take them so far.

In the tail of a comet,

Through the eyes of a star,

To the heart of a storm,

The Glass of Looking and Seeing,

The answer to a riddle's true form.

There is only one,

Alone, this one, alone,

Who knows the path between,

The Strangeways to Nowhere.

A figure of Legend,

Hewn of the Living Stone,

Endowed of wings and words,

A mane and a ferocious frown.

 

Outside a place of endless wonders,

Over...

A portal to the Strangeways,

A mighty legion of steps and stones,

The Stepping Stones,

He mounts an unceasing guard,

Wakened by the Voice of Nocturne.

A dusting of snow his haloed crown.

In the heart of the cold,

In the dark of the night,

The beating of a silent heart,

Does sound,

An echoing, clarion pound.

Nine the Rampant, a Lion of Winter,

Born of the Living Stone,

Blinks eyes of amber and flexes claws,

Molded of ivory, encasing bone.

The Living Stone,

The Breathing Art,

Loosed upon the Strangeways to Nowhere,

To the aid of the Night Galleon,

He has been called,

To guide the dreamers, one and all.

 

Against the ice, binding down his wings,

Nine begins to fight,

Sheening coat, limbs crack and flow.

Freedom from the pedestal,

That has bound him,

Tail and mane and bone.

Locked in a hardened, breathing prison,

Known as the Living Stone.

By the Voice of the Nocturne,

The Call of a Crow,

The Tear of the Owl,

By the Blood of the Snow.

To the defense of the Dreamers,

Onward and forward,

Massive paws gather, bound into the night,

Over the virga, chasing the stream.

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'

Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

The Sound and the Fury

 

The Sound and the Fury,

The Fury of the Sound...

Silenced before it was born,

A voice stifled far too soon,

Never to grace the morn'

 

The Sound and the Fury,

A Quiet Rage in eyes, dark

Speaking, calling out in pain.

Quiet Rage, ascreamin'

As they learn to dream...

 

The Sound and the Fury,

The Echoes of the Silence,

Ringing down the day,

A dreamer's light, a single star,

Oh, so far away...

 

The Sound and the Fury,

Blood upon the Snow...

Of Roses, Red and Briar, born,

Of a Swan and Seven, bound,

Over the fallen, the forgotten, the forsaken,

A Strangeway to Nowhere, found.

 

The Sound and the Fury,

The Echoes of the Silence,

The whispers of the snows,

Into the Stacks passes a Lion of Winter,

Nine the Rampant, the Pathway, only he knows.

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'

Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

It Is...

 

It is...Words born from a quiet whisper.

It is...The courage found in the face of fear.

It is...The will to stand when others fall.

It is...The touch that sends ripples blossoming to waves.

It is...The light within the shadows.

It is...Forgiveness for a bitter wrong.

It is...The hand reaching to the downed.

It is...The damaged heart, beating still.

It is...A second chance to try.

It is...Life and what we make of it.

It is...A Strangeway to Nowhere.

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'

Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

[ Edited ]

Shadow in the Corner

 

A Shadow in the Corner,

Revealed by a lamp,

A dusts, beloved survivor

Of a chipped and broken pair.

 

Nearly at the ceiling,

Tracing a line too fine

For those mortal eyes, apeerin'

Looking too hard to see.

 

A Shadow in the Corner,

A tiny, swift sure form

Clinging to a thread of life,

Fighting against the fall.

 

'Neath a frame guarded,

By a sea of glass,

Wherein masked figures dance,

Eyes beckoning, saying. Come.

 

A Shadow in the Corner.

The tippet of a tail,

The fragment of a feather,

The whisper of a vail.

 

The sea of glass it ripples,

Twisting with the time.

Into it a hand presses,

Catching the waltz's rhythm, dancing with the rhyme.

 

A Shadow in the Corner,

Becomes a familiar face.

Amber eyes aglowin'

A smile filled with grace.

 

Nine the Rampant, nods,

Snow drifting from his coat.

At last he finds a dreamer,

Her breath bated in her throat.

 

The Shadow in the Corner,

A Strangeway to Nowhere, found.

On the dreamer dances,

Whirling and waltzing 'round.

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'

Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

[ Edited ]

The Highwayman of Kettering Shore

 

Pirates' Moon araisin'

The Banshee haunts the moor.

Nocturne's voice drifting from the cove.

Slim fingers upon a handle press,

Releasing the terrace door.

 

Through a sea of glass,

Into the heart of a lost masqued ball,

A dreamer slipped and took up the steps.

Transformed into a Lady,

Beloved by one and all.

 

Onto the terrace she passes now.

Nine the Rampant, steadily pacing

With her gentle stride.

Silken whispers of her skirts and on the shore, far below,

A sight that sets her heart, a'racing.

 

Pirates' Moon aglowin'

Reflecting off the sand.

Sea and brine billowing out, cloaking a form,

A shadow from the deepest reaches,

A Beastie from the No Man's Land.

 

But it is not the Beastie,

Which has caught the Lady's eye,

It is a great ship upon the water,

A galleon, upon a sand bar, stranded,

It's crew prepared to die.

 

Pirates' Moon swallowed,

By shrouds of fitful clouds, entombed

Down the shore, a plague of greed,

Comes sweeping in, a tidal surge,

The Lady, watches, knowing the galleon doomed.

 

A tear from stormy eyes,

Drifting down her cheek,

Quickly she whips it away,

Now is not the time for tears,

For they show that she is weak.

 

An indigo sail kissed by gold.

The ship, the galleon, trapped upon the bar

It is the fabled Night Galleon,

A treasure, beyond price kept within her hold.

A relic of a bygone age, more precious than a star.

 

The Lady watches fingers clenched,

Upon the balustrade of stone,

Nine the Rampant at her side,

As the Moon Cussers swarm, toward the Night Galleon,

Their hearts carved out of bone.

 

The Beastie in the shadows lurking,

Waiting for its chance to spring,

Fast and swift and sure.

It knows the origins of the Relic in the hold.

One chance, alone, it has to beat Nine the Rampant to sky and wing.

 

Behind the Lady, the ball progresses,

The dancers a maddening blur.

Among the masked, there is a Knight,

Clad in the Highwayman's rags, of worn boots and black,

And a silver rapier that has ended many a mannerless curr.

 

From the stranded Galleon,

A great ring does arise.

The clanging of the ship's bell,

As the Moon Cussers, converge.

Seeking to claim their coveted prize.

 

Through the doorway, away from the ball,

Passes the Knight as the Highwayman, clad.

His fingers trace his Lady's cheek.

Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways, coming to the fore.

Blade at the ready, mask affixed, wings unfurled, violence to be had.

 

Nine the Rampant, before the Highwayman bows,

Snow drifting from his crown.

Wings unfurled unto the fullest,

The Highwayman of Kettering Shore upon the Living Stone is mounted,

Waiting with bated breath for the Lion's flight down.

 

With blade in one hand and mane wound 'round the other.

He pressed a kiss upon his Lady's cheek.

Still pale and moist from those tears,

Those hated tears...

That made her so weak.

 

Pirates' Moon aglowin'

Glimmering off the sea, reflecting from the stone.

The Highwayman of Kettering Shore,

A living ribbon of Quicksilver, forged.

A single strike and it falls away, flesh and blood and bone.

 

Blind with greed the Moon Cussers,

Intent upon their prize,

Fail to take note,

Of the Highwayman of Kettering Shore borne by Nine the Rampant,

Baring down to darken, forever, their covetous demons' eyes.

 

The Captain of the Night Galleon, a horn, to his lips is raised,

A call to arms, knowing it might be his final song.

As Nine the Rampant, over the balustrade leaps,

His wings flaring wide and silent,

His heart beneath the Highwayman's knee, steady and brave and strong.

 

As the Highwayman and Nine, spiral with the gathering storm,

The Lady can no longer keep them back,

This tide of tears, in torrents they fall.

One by one by one joining the rushing of the sea.

From the Night Galleon a cannon erupts, shattering the stillness with a mighty crack.

 

The Moon Cussers, two dories down,

Continue to press the Galleon, beached.

From the shadows, the Beastie of No Man's Land,

After Nine the Rampant chases,

The end of its patience, reached.

 

All hands on deck!  To arms!  To battle!  To the cannons, boys! 

Quickly! Quickly! Now!

Aim for the leering sneers of greed.

Sight in tight and true and sure.

Come on lads, you know how.

 

Protect the treasure, the Relic,

Carried in her hold.

The half broken, full glass, Quicksilver forged.

The Glass of Looking and Seeing,

More precious than all the world's gold.

 

It was the Key to the Strangeways,

The Pathways of the Lost.

Up and down the Stepping Stone,

A secret to be guarded from the Terror,

Kept safe no matter what the cost.

 

So it was out to sea into the gale, raising

Nine the Rampant, Lion of Winter swept.

Upon his back the Highwayman of Kettering Shore,

Wielded his blade left and right and back again.

Felling Moon Cussers, risking all, while his Lady wept.

 

The cannons barked and roared,

An angry beast at war.

Onto the deck of the Night Galleon,

Moon Cussers swarmed, greed at the fore.

Hands and eyes searching, their empty souls calling more.

 

Into the midst of the melee.

To the heart of the fight,

Nine the Rampant, the Lion of Winter,

Delivered the Highwayman of Kettering Shore,

His mighty claws giving aid to the Knight.

 

The Knight and the Lion Rampant,

Claws and blade, singing,

So busy with the Moon Cussers,

Missed the Beastie of No Man's Land,

Which to the Night Galleon was winging.

 

The Lady, through her tears, she saw.

She knew the Terror, she knew the Law.

Should the Beastie, this Terror born,

Lay hold of the Glass of Looking and Seeing,

Evil would triumph, snuffing out hope 'neath a demon's paw..

 

There was no time for warning,

No words to be had.

She knew this Old Terror, this Nightmare's swift form.

For decades it hunted her, a shadow in her mind.

She knew if she didn't move fast things would get bad.

 

She swallowed her fear and took a leap.

Over the balustrade, fingers reaching for the sky.

Like a river of new milk, warm and soft and white,

Her fingers closed around a bow, a sliver of the crescent moon,

Her arrow, a comet mounted, her fall broken by the Owl, source of the Nocturne's cry.

 

The Lady upon the Owl, settled,

Nocturne's flight a whispered hush.

She closed in from the rear.

Coming in upon the Terror, she had one chance to do this right.

As the wings beneath her carried her toward the Beastie in a steady rush.

 

Upon the Night Galleon the battle raged.

Moon Cussers fell dead, left and right.

But still they would not surrender.

They would not abandon their prize.

Not while there was still a man remaining to fight.

 

Into the hold a Moon Cusser broke.

Down to the bowels of the ship, after the treasure, peaking.

Through the struggling sailors and the cannons' roar.

Through the smoke and the grit, he was looking for something.

For the Glass of Looking and Seeing, he went seeking.

 

From the bowels of the Galleon to the bloodsoaked deck,

He carried the Glass, brandished high.

The Moon Cussers cheered, thinking they had won the day.

When the Highwayman of Kettering Shore, cut them to the ground.

As the Glass clattered to the deck, victory was nigh.

 

This was the moment, for which the Terror,

The Beastie of No Man's Land had waited.

Now was the time to strike.

Folding his wings the demon dropped.

But blocking his path was the Lion of Winter, Nine the Rampant, the Guardian, hated.

 

The Glass shimmered and swirled like a firefly tide.

The Terror lunged, talons slashing.

The Lion of Winter was driven back, the Beastie cackled, the goal so close at hand.

Only Nine and the Knight stood in the way

Until the Lady, her arrow, a comet mounted, sent the Terror crashing.

 

The Beastie of No Man's Land, bled out upon the deck.

As the Highwayman of Kettering Shore, his blade sliced a final bone.

The Captain of the Night Galleon and his crew raised up a cheer.

For the raiders were all dead, the Glass was safe once more.

All that remained was to free the Night Galleon, a job for the Living Stone.

 

Great streamers of cloud and moonshine,

Woven into ropes, the indigo sails to unfurl.

The fallen tears had lift the trapped ship.

Off of the sandbar, holding.

To the Nocturne and to the Lion, were harnessed the twisted strands of pearl.

 

With a leap and a heave into the air.

A rush of wind and the might of wing.

Back into the cobalt sea,

The Nocturne and the Lion of Winter, drew the Night Galleon,

And with it now sailed the Lady and the Knight, a well contended pair.

 

The Terror of No Man's Land,

Was vanquished there that night.

The Strangeways to Nowhere, once more protected.

Children now smile at the grinning moon,

Knowing there is no cause for fright.

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'

Wordsmith
Kat-NE
Posts: 1,349
Registered: ‎04-22-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

Very nice collection. Are you thinking of doing something with it?

Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

Mermaid's Course

 

Night Galleon sails unfurled,

High and proud and tight.

A slender form breaches the sea,

Silver and cobalt and raven's night.

 

Sea spray and mist whirling.

Overhead clouds and stars,

Wheeling and twirling.

Up from the depths she comes.

 

Night dark velvet, a curtain of hair,

A course flowing down her back.

Cobalt eyes shining like a deep sea star,

Chart the course, set the track.

 

In the wake of the waves,

Before the leeward side of the gale,

The albatross, her herald, drifts,

Weaving in and out of the Night Galleon's sail.

 

Finned yet not of the fish or beast,

A breather of both sea and sky,

A daughter of Triton, a child of myth,

In a sleek, long leap, silhouetted, about to fly.

 

The eagle ray, the dolphin, and seal, barking,

Along the shore and between the stones,

With the tide and with the surge,

She swims, the song of the sea in her bones.

 

Amidst the spray and above the cheer,

Comes the her voice, a legend, spoken.

Sweet and bright and clear.

Some call her the Siren, others a Guardian.

 

A Guardian and Keeper of Things.

Things Lost and Things Found.

Some Things Forgotten by all, but a Legend

Long gone into hiding deep in the Ground.

 

Breach and splash, the seals bay...

Night Galleon, hard to Starboard,

Draw sail.  Quickly now!  She is the Way.

Silver fins and shimmering scales.

 

Upon the land, Snow White,

Some have called her in stories, Lost,

But in the Sea she a Rose, a Compass, true.

Her knowledge gained by a duck, a Pearl of priceless cost.

 

Marianna of the Fathoms Deep,

Is the name this Guardian of the Strangeways, bares

Such are the secrets of Things Lost and Things Found, she does keep,

A Navigator of the Strangeways to Nowhere.

 

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'

Distinguished Bibliophile
Darkkin
Posts: 2,224
Registered: ‎08-15-2009

Re: Nine the Rampant, Keeper of the Strangeways

[ Edited ]

Fingerprints and Angel Feathers

 

A minor chord, a major rift,

Fingerprints and angel feathers,

A dark radiance in the rain,

A language cast in ivory and ebony,

The soft, sad voice of a lost refrain.

 

Fingerprints and angel feathers,

Reflected in wood and glass,

A pair of hands, elegant, clenched in pain.

A soft, sad voice, the angel calling.

Wings fallen and folded, bedraggled by rain.

 

Reflected in wood and glass,

A mask, now twisted and sad,

A soul, a thousand shades of grey,

Ivory and ebony, a chord minor and dark,

Footprints pressed into the sand, seeking a way...

 

A mask, now twisted and sad,

Began, a dark radiance in the rain,

An angel in guise, who cloaked in grey,

Shimmered in the darkness, a night blooming flower,

Shown like a star, imbued of a glory to rival the day.

 

Began, a dark radiance in the rain,

A source of footprints, a single line,

Into the sand, pressed deep and clear.

Fingers across the ivory and ebony, fly,

A lesson too precious for the crass mortal ear.

 

A source of footprints, a single line,

Pressed into the sand, in the shadow of a promontory,

A dark radiance in the rain, a cloak of feathers trailing.

The language of a minor chord, ivory and ebony, cast.

Angel, fallen in the rift, all around the westerlies beseeching, wailing.

 

Pressed into the sand, in the shadow of a promontory,

Passes a shadow, a thousand shades of grey, sweeping in,

With the tidal surge, over a bar, the sand of shattered dreams.

The Night Galleon, its sails small upon the horizon.

Angel upon the shore, forgotten and fading, no one listens for the screams.

 

Passes a shadow, a thousand shades of grey, sweeping in,

Those waves upon the shore, washing away the stain,

The mar of those footprints in the sand, feathers bedraggled by rain.

Above the roaring surf, a voice, high and sweet and clear.

Tears tracing mortal cheeks as the angel takes away the pain.

 

Those waves upon the shore, washing away the stain,

Of things done wrong, of words unsaid, promises broken...

Fragments of hope, long thought to be dead,

Fingerprints and angel feathers, footprints in the sand.

Dark radiance in the rain, stars crowning her bowed head.

 

Of things done wrong, of words unsaid, promises broken...

The minor chord, ivory and ebony, cast, reveals the truth,

Blows the ashes from the past, back to the rift when she went her way.

A voice alone upon the shore, but to the sky, the words,

Her words take flight and soar out with the coming day.

 

The minor chord, ivory and ebony, cast, reveals the truth,

Forgives a past, of wrongs and doings, oddly done.

Fingerprints and angel feathers taken by the sea.

A Strangeway to Nowhere, written by a radiance, hidden by the rain.

A final verse of Nothings, a dream of you and me.

'Of wings and words and dancing milkweed seeds...'