Quickbeams short poems2

[quickbeam]

Hello im back. We finally manged to fix most of our computer problems. I noticed a lot has changed since I was last here but I like it.

Here is my latest poem entitled "starbird"

Brightly soaring through the sky in triumph of it's ability of flight.
The wind blows in triumph as the stars enter the sky the starbird flying high to meet them.
The sheats of darkness now cover the ground as the starbird flies ever higher matching his whistle to the stars song of bright hope.
From space the sarbird looks at the marble of earth so far below it and knows that it will never return.

[quickbeam]

This Poem is Entitled "The Diamond"

Glistening, Sparkling, Shining like silver rain, foucusing sight and thought.
Singing, Dancing, Sending light sparkling through the air.
Harder then hardest steel, Brighter than twenty suns,
Coveted by many over all the earth and lost in the depths of time.

[quickbeam]

This poem is entitled "Heartbeat"

A silver hum a vibrant thrum
Thrum, Thrum, Thrum, goes the beat.
Like banging on a drum, a rather large drum
Goes the beat saying Thrum, Thrum, Thrum.
Life it brings and air it turns and the strength that comes and runs on through it.
Repeating always it's vibrant Thrum is the heart, the never ending human drum.

[quickbeam]

I have entitled this poem "Song of Dracula"

As the shadows start to rise, as the sun sets in the skies.
Darkness, hunger, terrible wrath, and hopeless rage arises.
Lost beyond the Emerald skies, from far away you hear its cry.
Dooming, bone shattering, soul stealing evil screams its name across the land.
Night hunter, shapeshifter, ruler of dogs and demons alike, a misty fog before it feeds.
From his castle he rises emperor of nights darkness, left his home to rule another. He became hunted, the great hunter.
Other servents he had and has made removed from his entrancing power.
Hunted by a team of men to his own demise utterly destroyed at the verge of his triumph as his hunters go there way.

[quickbeam]

It may not be remembered or known but I really would welcome any comments on my poems.

This poem is entitled "Crystal Water"

Ice, the glistening solid of water, the silver soul mirror of natures design.
Every surface perfectly smooth, shaped by human hands to any form desired.
Resting quietly high in the mountains, flowing silently deep in the caves.
Reflecting back every particle of light that is ever shone upon it,
And whenever it's disturbed soon becomes calm and still again.
If only the rivers of our lives could run so smoothly.

[quickbeam]

It is sad to see this site vanishing. This poem is entitled "The Empty Hall"
hopefully someone will see it.

Alone at night, walking the empty halls of this site.
A living phantom in an stone cold place.
No more people here to play, No more chatter in the room of fire.
The people have stopped talking, the world is growing old.
Please come, Please come, Return to fill these rooms once more.
The threads shall live again, The rainbow bridge shall shine.
When the people shall return again to great and darkened house.
The light shall be bright again, the rising sun and laughter will fill again our hearts.
When people return to this lonely place, Happiness again to share shall be ours.

[Elentari]

Hear hear! Man, I wish there was something I could do to get people to post more. But I love your poems ^_^

Z tari

[quickbeam]

Thanks, I try to keep things going here but it seems no one else ever wants to come and hear them. Im glad at least someone is enjoying them.

This one is Entitled "The Ageless Walk"


The silver harp plays its song the river of time sails smoothly on.
The drums play deep, and hard, and long to add their key to the tuning,
Mountains age and the forests spread over the world.
Stone crumbles and Iron rusts and steel turns ashy with age.
Age to age the world changes and the world grows and ever we stay the same.
We wage our wars and tell our stories, we move along that well worn road that
Is being made deeper by so many feet. and the world passes us by.
The flowers bloom and die and the grass withers with the trees.
But all of them always return greater than before.
We are sliding, We are falling, reaching ever closer to the end, The law of entrophy wears us down.
When we have all died and vanished, where will our great cities be?
Among the ever growing forest and buried beneath the evershifting mountains,
and when we return thats where we also shall be.

[quickbeam]

This one is called "The house of my heart"


A place of comfort in the mind, the calm at the center of the storm,
The words from an authors pen, the song that the mockingbird sings,
A world of peace and joy, The music of a windy day, The drum tapping of the rain.
It is the silence between the sound, the space between the seconds and the life and death of all the world.
Most of all it is my home.

[Elentari]

That one was really beautiful ^_^ You have a great talent, melon.

| tari

[quickbeam]

Thank you...

As Bilbo said in the movie cartoon of The Hobbit "I can only do my best" and as Gandalf replied "then that shall have to suffice."

This one is called "Game of the world"

Holding onto rivers of life, those bouys on the restless sea.
Streaming past in a storm of speed, steering the ship of myself ever carefully.
This the sea of madness seeks to overwhelm me and drown me in her red tides.
On my ship I'm sailing far beyod the skies that bind our minds. It's not the game that matters
but rather how it is played. The life of the universe is our game.
Chaos and Order its boundries, and mindless wanderings our method of learning the rules.
What really matters on this maddening infinite continuium what difference does anything really make? We know the game so what are the stakes?

[quickbeam]

This one is called "World of the Poet"


Slowly drifting through the infinite dark, quickly sinking into a quaking sea.
Reaching for an idea, an inspiration of highest degree, a perfect picture in the depth of one's mind.
To find that picture and give it life, to mould rocks into mountains.
To cause the sky to no longer limit and make infinity out of a pebble.
To raise oceans and level fields, to grind iron to dust with a hat.
In essence to take the sum total of human imagination and fit it to words that can be read in less than ones own lifetime is the job of poets.
This is the dream of every dedicated poet and great is the poet who achieves his dreams.

[Elentari]

Wow! I love it. Especially the bit about grinding the iron with a hat ^_^ You have such talent ^-^

[quickbeam]

Thanks. I also help my father write some of his stories and have currently taken over working on one he based off his rpg character Morsul but I'm not as good with stories so it may be a while before I finish it.

[quickbeam]

This one is called "Ragnarok of the Greek and Norse"

Burning burning the fire rises the yellow star circled by two red moons.
Meteors fall, the ocean waves rise to form a wall of water.
Lightning strikes and the earth quakes loudly, a giant wolf destroys the ice kings.
Terror and fear, the mortals are gone and dragons rise above the earth.
Creatures of iron and diamond come forth crushed by a giant hammer weilding norseman.
Pegasus flies the king of the skies to watch above his home. The end of the world.