drawnonwords - A Writers Tale

My own views, posts, musings, stories and the odd picture for all to enjoy and let others know.

Tag: poem

Rivers of Time

Hello Dear Reader

Rivers of Time

I decided to write a short story based on the premise that time is like a river. We all have our own river, some feed into others and grow stronger, some merely cross paths. A simple idea and one that I am sure is not unknown. What if that river is linked to time itself and we keep appearing in differing points?  Add to that some rivers keep crossing certain paths carrying our souls, joining in moments of time.

Many people do believe we have been here more than once, not able to remember our past lives. There are guides, spirits some call them, who influence our lives in many ways. Some, straight-forward, some the hand of fate we may never know why.

Hence I have written this piece, combining poems, flash fiction, and a short story, Rivers of Time.

Enjoy.

Rivers of Time

Time flows for all,

Never sleeps or stops.

Time flows like a river,

Never knowing its true course.

Time flows with a passion,

Never caring for those it touches.

Time flows as a force,

Never binding as it goes.

Time flows for all,

Never knowing fates hand.

Time flows without care,

As it wanders many paths.

 

Rivers of Time: Beginning?

It is understood by many, that time flows in one direction, always forward. Some believe we only appear once each stream forming the rivers of time. Others believe we exist as numerous streams at differing points throughout time. Appearing by chance, never remembering our past lives, loves, mistakes or heroic acts.

Some cultures worship the river of time, as it meanders. We appear randomly time and time again, occasionally seeing glimpses of our pasts in dreams or nightmares. There are those that hold we each have a soul mate. One whom we share much more than just a physical connection.

Time and Fate: companions in our journeys. Fate may alter time or so it seems. Offering different paths, a chance of happiness or the misery of despair. Chance can be hidden or we can be blind to what is there. We can never stand still despite our best efforts as time rolls onwards.

Two souls wandering, their paths crossing through time. Briefly, they touched as knight and princess bound over the centuries to meet again. Fate playing its hand, like ripples in the river, forcing the soul along an unknown path.

The destiny of each soul, woven into the rivers of time.

Rivers of Time: The Old Woman

Curiosity: they say it killed the cat. However, he was still curious. It had been twenty years since he first saw her, his life touched in ways he never imagined. Standing outside the shop, crystals and rocks catching the mid-day sun, he closed his eyes.

After all those years, the memory was still vivid. Exploring the town, he came across the shop, almost tucked out of sight. He stopped to admire the crystals and gemstones, something of a passion. As he looked into the window, he felt someone was watching. Glancing around he saw no-one. His friends would be on the beach or the other side of town. There was a familiar sound. He looked down to see a black cat in the doorway.

It mewed at him, the hypnotic call drawing him closer. Green eyes locked with his, a compelling need to move forward. The cat suddenly moved into the shop as he bent to stroke it. There was a brief moment of darkness as he followed.

“She will always do that.” He looked up to see an elderly woman. There was a sparkle in her green eyes, something that made him stare for a moment. The cat must have moved further into the shop as he could not see her.

“Forgive my curiosity, I did not mean to stare.” Her eyes were as green as the cats.

“You are looking for a gift, for your soul mate.” It was not a question but a statement.

“I was thinking of a gift, yes. But I don’t have a soul mate. Your shop caught my eye. Crystals have always held a fascination for me.” He felt a cold shiver down his back, under examination not just from the old woman. Without realising, he had stepped closer to where she was.

“The right crystal is important if you believe. They can heal your spirit, guide your journey and show you, true love.” Her voice was calming, the sales pitch inviting.

“How would I know which crystal is right for me? How do you know about my soul mate?” He was humouring her, a traveller to part with his cash.

“You have to open your mind. Believe in what you wish for rather than your cynical thoughts.” She reached out and held his right hand in hers. The move was sudden. He felt trapped unable to move.

“Your Grandfather tried to tell you before his death, the story was true.” She kept her eyes on his, unnerving him.

His mind drifted to his Grandfather, a story he told him. It was a lucky guess by her, the sales pitch was good. He kept quiet.

“You don’t believe that one can see your past or your future?” It was as if the shop did not exist for a moment. He began to remember the story he was told.

“You never truly believed what he said, how at a young age you were saved. How you were close to death. Rushed to the hospital, operated on, the real reason for the mark on your neck.” His mind was racing, this was not right. How could she know? It must still be a lucky guess. He refused to answer, to be drawn in. Something was not right. It had to be a set-up. One of his friends had put her up to this. She must have seen his neck and the small mark where he had supposedly been operated on.

“You refuse to believe, even now. Yes, I can see your mark, it could be a guess. How many know of the doctor that never lived?” A chill ran through him. He had never told his friends of the story. He had always believed his Grandfather was kidding. Even days before his death, he told the same story. He just smiled to appease, not wanting to upset him.

“He told you of your guardian angel and your beast, ones that have been with you since birth.” Her voice was mesmerising, he was trying to understand her words.

“I have never told anyone of that story. How could you know?” His mind went over the words of his Grandfather. “What or who are my guardian angel and beast?”

“They guide you, watch over you. At times, they will interfere as yours has over the years.” She seemed to look over his right shoulder.

“Your inner beast is a dragon. You understand the mythical beast don’t you.” It was becoming uncomfortable for him, he felt heat and sweat, it must be a light. This was all a trick to make him believe.

“Yes. I mean, I there is a curiosity about such beasts. What could they be like if they existed?”  He was struggling now to keep control. He had more than passing interest in dragons, he felt foolish saying to others but not her.

“Now you understand why you are drawn to the dragon. Mine is a cat, as you saw.” A smile crossed her face. “They guided you here. Now, your wish is to find your soul mate. She is waiting for you.”

He was sweating now, heart racing as his mind flashed imagines of a woman.

“I don’t know what you mean. I have not come to find you or my soul mate. I had no idea.” He felt faint.

“It is time for you to glimpse your future. Follow me.” The old woman tugged his hand and he followed.

He fought the feelings inside himself. He had thought of his future, someone to share his life but this was beyond all he knew. He was supposed to be relaxing, escaping all the pressures of life.

He lost track of time as she talked to him. Knights, dragons, spirits, worlds gone and worlds to come. Throughout she told of his soul mate. They had met before on different plains the old woman said. He found it hard to believe that he had a past life. The more she spoke the more he was drawn into this strange world. He felt drowning in a sea of riddles. His soul mate was something of a dream as she described her to him. He would know when he saw her? Raven. Her hair, the bird or name? His mind filled with images, his head fit to burst. Then it was over.

His eyes opened, the memory still fresh. He had visited every year since, always a little nervous of what the old woman might reveal. He had learned more of his past life: how he met his princess while he was a knight. He had doubts, times he thought she was just telling him what he wanted to hear. Yet he knew she was right. The years had passed without that feeling.

One summers day it happened: he saw her. Raven hair, soft smile, flowing dress as she walked towards him. A sudden glow inside him unlike any before. Somehow he managed to greet her. It took time, he was not the most patient of men. He had found his love through the river of time. The old woman said he would but it would be a troubled start. That was over six months ago. Now he needed her wisdom again and what the future held. He opened his palm to show his stone as the familiar sound greeted him. The soft meow made him smile.

“Hello, old friend.” He stepped inside.

 

Rivers of Fate

Fate is a universe of uncertainties,

Throwing unknowns into the rivers of time,

Changing paths without thought.

Fate is all-seeing, all-knowing,

It depends on nothing,

Offers paths without boundaries.

Fate is cruel, harshly uncaring,

Changing the rivers of time,

Offering paths that lead to darkness.

 

Rivers of Time: Forgiven Knight

He looked out at the sunset. Despite the heat, he was cold inside. He held the flower, a simple blue beauty, its life so short. It was her’s, one she enjoyed. A faint memory surfaced, in a sea of blue, the pure white of her dress. Her smile welcoming the knight home, helping to shed the cares around him. A single touch sparked the fire within, the two dragon stones calling to each other, bonding again.

He looked down at his stone. It was dying, lost without its twin, the spark needed yet so far away. A sigh escaped his lips, it was deep and sad beyond what he thought. Something nudged him. Scales rubbed against right hand. Looking into the eyes of his dragon, a silent bond between the pair. They both understood each other’s loss. Both felt alone now in a strange way, both still trying to reach out.

He looked again at the bright blue flower. There was her scent captured in the bud, held for as long as he could remember. There was still the faint light of hope, he knew that he had to believe it. To complete his quest, to find his one, he had to truly believe. He rose from his knee, his armour battered a little more.

He looked out at the shattered landscape and placed his right hand against the dragon. Out there they would find her, rescue her and ultimately ask her forgiveness. He placed the blue flower inside his armour, climbed on the dragons back. He heard her cry inside his heart, always watch over me.

 

River of Time: The End?

At the end of time, on the river sits a rowing boat. It waits for the knight and princess. A fixed point never to be changed by fate. The final moment for the two souls that will last a lifetime.

Time waits patiently as the river slows around it. The calm water, no longer touched by fate or chance, slowly fades to grey. Bright sparks, echoes from the past, approach the simple boat. The knight and princess, joined once more, as the boat send ripples through time.

Each ripple an act of fate guiding the souls to journeys end.

Is the end of time the beginning of the story?

Writing 201: Poetry Ode

Hello All

Day 10 Poetry – Ode.

This is the last day of the poetry challenge and today it is an ode. Not something I have written before and with todays keyword of the future, I took a look at the end of something.

Ode’s can be anything I believe and as this is the last poem, I hope it does justice to the challenge.

Thanks for the fun.

 

The Future

He stood in front of the monument,

Black soulless moment in time.

A simple message etched in pure gold

The last left for anyone to read.

An ode to a lost race, just one

The one he searched for, the lost.

Saddened, feelings misplaced

What has this come to one race?

 

Dropping down on bended knees

He hangs his head, yet no one sees.

Now to late to save just one.

Looking to the final lines

‘To any who read our last words,

Some of us waited, no saviour came.

Inside is the last memories of Us.’

 

By Mark O’Donnell ©

Writing 201 – Poetry Drawer

Hello Dear Reader

Day 8 of the poetry challenge. This time it is an ode, with the keyword being a drawer. Possibly the most fun poem to write and oh so true.

Enjoy

 

Day 8 – Drawer

There is a drawer I often use

It has mysterious powers.

Oh the joy when one discovers

and yet the despair when time is spare.

Socks, socks, socks everywhere

And not a pair to find.

Why can this drawer hide them so

Is this the bane of all mankind?

By Mark O’Donnell ©

Writing 201 – Poetry Fog

Day 5 of Writing 201  – Poetry challenge Fog

Dear Reader

Day 5 of this enjoyable challenge brings us to Fog and elegy. This one was difficult to write due to the content. It is supposed to be chilling and sombre.

Like many people, I always thing my poems are not the best. With this one I have decided to just write it the once and do no more changes. I wonder if it works that well?

Enjoy

Day 5 Fog (Re-worked)

Each foot took him closer to the sound

Muffled cries all round.

Hard to move, the mud so tight

Pulling at each soulful step.

Fog or smoke, difficult to tell

Neither could he see or feel what was to come.

Deep deathly cries left and right

Stabbing into his mind.

Hands gripped the pitfall weapon, more a symbol

Steel like need betrayed violent desire.

His foot struck something other than mud

Single limb nothing else, friend or foe.

Inhaling fog, thick against his eyes, streaming with tears

Another step forward another limb found.

Cries all round echoing like the soundtrack of his life.

Each his fault, all his work.

A simple march of ten steps, no more

Blooded limbs lay in fog.

Death stopped, dropped his useless weapon.

Bodies of war surrounding him, as the dense fog lifted,

He sobbed in triumphed once more.

 

By Mark O’Donnell

 

 

Writing 201 – Poem Animal

Day 4 of Writing 201  – Poetry challenge

Dear Reader

Day 4 of this enjoyable challenge brings us to animals. I took time over this one, mainly because of the animal to chose.

I must admit I am not sure of this poem, maybe not the best but it’s something I will put forward.

Enjoy (comments well)

 

Day 4 – The Kill

A stealthy approach is his key
Slowly he moves, so the pray wont flee.
Crouching low, eyes never leaving
Using his senses, always feeling.

A momentary stop, frozen in time,
As his pray looks around all in his prime.
Has he been spotted, is this his mistake,
His goes unnoticed the pray still to take.
Without a sound he knows they will move
He is the leader, who has to prove.
He shall provide, for all in his care
He will be the one, the one who dares.

With military precision they move at a glance
He waits one last heartbeat ready with every ounce.
The pack descends, cries moving the pray,
He waits just that second, for one to stray.

At the beating of hearts, moving with grace,
He tracks the one, covering at pace.
Eyes burning, teeth gleaming bright,
Pounding of blood, his feeling just right.

In seconds he has it, a huge beast in flight
But the Wolf has his needs and ruthless might.
His has the kill, his pray and his pride
He howls his prowess deep into the night.

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén

Copy Protected by Chetan's WP-Copyprotect.
%d bloggers like this: