The Last Tale Torn, Grandfathered In

People often hinge their writing duties on waiting for inspiration to click. I know I do. Really, it’s just another form of procrastination. Sometimes (most times) inspiration doesn’t hit until you have the first word down, that’s the real hurdle.

While it’s actually the second word in this poem, the first word that came to my mind was “crimson”. Weather, war, romance, regret — funny how they can all be connected so easily to that word.

Also, my fantasy mind got the better of me and I wrote “gnoll” instead of knoll. A shaved gnoll isn’t a bad image, though.


Bullets and a Rose

Bullets and a Rose

What crimson clouds careen across the shorned [knoll]
and spill their shades to transform the hue–
What dastardly mind could look on such a sight
and not see at least a foreign shape or two. Continue reading


There Will Be Magic Once More In England

The poem-a-day challenge for 2015 continues. This latest was inspired by Susanna Clarke’s brilliant novel (and recent BBC TV series adaptation) Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell.

Doodle for maximum effect.

Doodle for maximum effect.

“There Will Be Magic Once More In England”

Feathers of the blackest black,
like ink, like soot, like dark.
With a shadowed remark
the bird says the King is back.

The portents have aligned here-
English magic returned-
bringing out the learned
who know not of what draws near.

Meanwhile waits Mr. Norrell
for his apprentice Strange.
No magic here can change
the master and the quarrel.

-B.W. Gladney