#fanpoems

[at-the-sign-of-the-fox-n-phoenix]

Shameless Self Recs of my GO Fics, Most of Which are Poems.

An Eternal Song, A Choir of Two, & the Only Harmony That Matters (blend)

Only You*

Idylls of the King (prose. apologies, I doubt it will ever be finished, but I tried)

Can I Get A Wahoo?*

Heart Murmurs Beneath the Surface*

KEY TO SYMBOLS/NOTES: * = poem blend - prose with poems prose = as it says on the tin

[dickbutt21]

Four Eyes (The Arcana Fanpoem)

I know a lot about my brother

I know that he got grey eyes and I got blue

I saw him picking at his eyes Pulling down the skin like a stocking

Flicking his eye

He stares at the ocean a lot He says he misses the seals

Those salt filmed furry tubs I nod He’s silly We have people again And he certainly takes advantage of it Yapping endlessly to the other sailors

They chuckle their pirate laughs And he chuckles too, imitating them I know he’s tall but everyone knows that He’s been bumping into the sides of the doorway

Knocking over his own books and scribbles

Maz says I’m lucky to not have his handwriting Even if I can’t write anything other then my own name I know he wears glasses

I know he needs them, but doesn’t wear them I caught him once, folding the spectacles over his eyes and off of them He folded them behind his back And told me that blood was thick He spit in his hand offering it to me and I shook it That was a while ago He shares more spit with the other sailors now He tells me what they speak of That they sing drunken tales and let him drink from their flasks He brings me a half stolen flask to share We giggled, behind the crates where the grains were stored

Red rimmed speaking parrots to the west Gold and sapphire earrings to the east North is where we’re from He says the sailors won’t say anything other then bad brandy But south, south is special He says there’s somewhere beautiful there With deep brown sand and thick wirey tree roots And pineapples that never go out of season That they just walk from tree to tree when they’re done growing He giggles That’s what they say anyways He thinks that pineapples with walking legs are funny Which they are, I don’t know why he thought they were serious

They’re telling you kiddie tales I say No, I swear they’re real! You just don’t get it because you’re not old enough to be a real sailor I am a real sailor, you goose! You’re barely 8! Turned 9 last spring! We don’t even know that! Well, when spring’s past I’m a year older Fine, but you’re not double digits yet That don’t mean anything!

Yeah-huh it does! Nuh-uh! I’m a real sailor when I say so cause I’ve always been on this ship! Yeah but you’re not mature 

Am too! Are not!

Am too! Are not! As time moves on I know more and less about him I know he doesn’t go to sleep until late Cause he’s too old to sleep early with me I know he smells weird when he comes back Bad, like warm sea water And no good brandy But I know he’ll never skip his lunch with me Cause I slip him an extra slice of bread into the soup And he asks me about what I’m looking forward to most When we land in the next port 

I know when he’s scared

I know he picks at his skin when he’s scared

And he always comes back with pimples And he cries at the red spots

Because he’s growing on up

And his friends now think he’s annoying

[little-shop-of-stories]

Ballroom thoughts

Will you be my Belle

For this masqueraded ball

I'll dance away the night with you

Or with none at all

Enchanted by your candy smile

And sharp, observant eyes

Enraptured by your knight's disguise

Your subtle wit and guile

Dressed in lies you tell yourself

With a bright sun shining through

I'll undress you neath the moonlit sky

I've eyes for naught but you

gasp I did not mean to sound so crass

I shouldn't feel like this again

Mortified by my own thoughts

Of such metaphors abstain

Yet I do wish to know you deeper

Help you with old wounds and woes

Protect you from phantasmal foes

I too'll be your soul's keeper

I want to peer into your shell

To see you, to accept you whole

In costume still you shroud your soul

... I'll wait for you, I shall not dwell

So I ask to dance the night with you

'Till the dawn's too early chime

And let me see, in your own time

Your dark side of the moon

(This one's a bit different, in that it's an attempt at fanfiction of sorts. Just what I think might go through Edwin's head if he and Charles had to go to a (masquerade) ball for a case.)

[edennill]

laden things

Do you remember, who were king A mortal harp's feel in your hands What songs you wove upon the strings Upon the airs of night-chill lands Can you still see the ashen porch of Bregor's house, the hazel chair where you might sit by wavering torch and talk the night through unaware Do you remember how the wind Would bend and sway sentinel pines The stars that ringed Tarn Aeluin Within its darkling depths enshrined Do you remember year by year what child was born, what woman tall became a wife that was a girl you sang to sleep in father's hall Do you remember every name Each generation upon each Each song and grief, unspoken aim bonfire revel and late-night speech Memory is a laden thing Dost thou remember, who wert king?

[oatmealdaydreams]

Aftermath of a Nightmare - A Sanders Sides FanPoem

Shall I speak like an organ bleeds?

If I tell, promise me

You won't find humor in it?

Alright, then...

My love, what ails you?

You may speaks as freely as a raging river, and

You needn't my approval.

No, I won't snicker nor snide.

Oh, dear hearts I hold, are you okay?

Of course, always, dearest star.

As our prince says, no need for

Our approval to tell what hurts you.

They hold him dear

Tonight

Now you cannot touch him

Tonight

They ease his tears

Tonight

Now you cannot choke him

Tonight

@analoginceweek for Day 2: Nightmare

[revenantpoet]

Hallowboned: Chapter Sixteen

An angel AU narrative poetry fic

Rating: Teen Pairing: Vashwood Summary:

It’s not every day That you watch a fucking angel Fall out of the fucking sky Nicholas D. Wolfwood Wouldn’t exactly call himself a superstitious man (Despite being raised Catholic A dubious choice for any parent to make Or, in his case Orphanage to make) But watching a human-shaped body Tumble down out of the heavens And leave a small crater in the street below Well, it does something to you And all he had wanted was a late-night smoke

Excerpt:

"And how the hell would a guy like you Teach a guy like me How to dance?" Wolfwood is tempted to pull away To flick Vash on the forehead for being a little shit To get some distance Some time to actually think For his heart to stop fluttering and lashing around Like one of Vash’s wings Vash laughs again A fun drunk, apparently (Though Wolfwood still isn't sold on his drunkenness) "Easily! I've had a lot of time to watch, you know, So much time to learn. It's all I could do to connect with people, You know?"

[motircatranautracinya]

the exile’s prayer

luminous beings are we no longer lost to revised history no longer trapped and tortured we remember who we were and take the time to finish our tasks - we may deserve peace but so does the galaxy and first and foremost that is where our duty lies and so ever may the force be with us

[their-we-go]

life at the lakeridge motel in january in 1992

hospital corners on motel sheets and orange juice from the vending machine.

soft pads of fingers pricked by the needle with the red thread.

just like sleeping beauty, Brother says when he sees

the small bead of blood

a second before you lick it away.

it’s been his favourite movie for a month and will be for three more weeks.

shut up, you say. toss him his clothes. 

watch him run his little fingers over the ridges of your stitches.

look away.

walk away.

watch the phone on the nightstand refusing to ring.

wash the same two bowls for the third time that day.

pray.

run out of games for your brother to play while you wait.

make up some more.

take him to the library and look at books you can’t borrow and wonder how long.

grow up.

grow tired.

keep wondering.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

A friend wrote this amazing Eowyn poem and I have to share it!

I love this so much!

This is gorgeous!

“the siege inside”

o you with hands that reach to save

souls drowning in the hungry sea

approach now like a breaking wave

and tumble down the walls of me

these walls i wrought but to withstand

siege-engines of a mortal foe

who rides like flame through burning land

and seeks to lay my towers low

yet leave no stone upon a stone

for in that prison named my soul

all love is now to coldness grown

in faded gray my days unroll

o quickly come you who would break

the curse i laid when i was free

and all my walls at last unmake

and all my loves return to me

[randowwriter]

What Felt Like A Bud

@soya-ix I did think about it; I don't know if I fully have grasped it, but here's a fanpoem for you. :)

[crypticpawpoems]

Poems Part 11 | The Genie's Demise

Become Part of The Pack on the official Cryptic Paw website, YouTube, and Patreon!

www.crypticpaw.com

https://youtube.com/@CrypticPaw?si=ejXzJUtlJSnitAG4

https://www.patreon.com/CrypticPaw_Official?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator

This fan poem was inspired by the Genie's love for Regina aka The Evil Queen and his transformation into the classic Mirror on the Wall from the Disney TV show "Once Upon a Time."

[little-shop-of-stories]

A lament of two souls

They both awoke and ran from Death

Their blood for nothing spilled

In these two now unbeating hearts

A purpose was instilled

Stiffled by the world and self

I could scarce exist

My loss was called "an act of God"

I was never missed

Sacrificed for fun and shame

Thought demons were a joke

For them it was all just a game

'Till their bodies were but smoke

No one cared to find the guilty

Death cries the halls have filled

No justice for the missing

No justice for the killed

My "friends" beat others up for fun

I tried to make them stop

The school thought me an inconvenience

My murder covered up

My father took a belt to me

My classmates took a fist

Left to die scared and alone

By none will I be missed

Hated, bloody, battered

My bones to death were chilled

No justice for the missing,

No justice for the killed

We didn't matter, he and I

Our cases left to rot

As many were, before and since

Tormentors never sought

But every soul has value

Both living and deceased

All with unfinished business

Depart when they're appeased

And so we help out those like us

With wishes unfulfilled

We make justice for the missing

We make justice for the killed

(A fanpoem for the Netflix series Dead boy detectives, brought to you by 2 am inspiration and a gripping hyperfixation)

[edennill]

Poem I've never posted here btw:

Well, one, he was skilled, and the other was wise, but both had their father's deep gray in their eyes. One's mother was silver, the other's was gold, both held the same features and hair dark tenfold. One burned like the fire, and one burned like ice, and both were consumed, and both paid the price. And one learned of patience, and one never did, both charging too far lost the lives that they bid. And one led his people to ruin and doom, the other built cities, retained but a tomb. One wrought greatest glory and brought greatest shame, the other remained in the shadow of flame. Both bore the same crown, the scrolls call but one king, both went different ways who yearned for the same thing.

[oatmealdaydreams]

Thy Fire - A Sanders Sides FanPoem

Thy fire swirls and shifts

On the edge of eyes, of hearts

The snake, a cobra so mighty

Watching from shadows

Scales glittering gold

The corvid, darkest wings

Has fallen prey

To its own anger

The kraken, a horror in the lake

The ferns, hiding in darkness

They cackle as the fire

Roars

A dragon, ferocious and cunning

Claims himself a prince

But his anger wallows

As he's left without his twin heart

A flower, confused

Burns away

Burns too bright for others

And wastes into nothing

As no one burns light for it

A spider, the shadows that hide the cobra

Skitters and cries

Fear

Guilt weighs heavy in its eyes

A frog croaks warnings and terrors

Rules too strict

For any plant to breathe

They try to ease it up

But trials turn into error

As the flower wilts and the spider recoils

The dragon misses the kraken

Scorned by the cobra

Bitten by the frog

And no longer the flower's hero prince

All the animals and creatures

Know the fire's coming

And none can hide the angry flames

From their flower

Anymore

The flower shall burn bright again

And give itself rest

[revenantpoet]

Hallowboned: Chapter Seven

An Angel AU narrative poetry fic

Rating: Teen Pairing: Vashwood Summary:

It’s not every day That you watch a fucking angel Fall out of the fucking sky

Nicholas D. Wolfwood Wouldn’t exactly call himself a superstitious man (Despite being raised Catholic A dubious choice for any parent to make Or, in his case Orphanage to make) But watching a human-shaped body Tumble down out of the heavens And leave a small crater in the street below Well, it does something to you

And all he had wanted was a late-night smoke

Excerpt:

It only gets worse from that moment on Because somehow This entire fucked up situation becomes routine It’s only been a few days, but

Every night, there’s a small fight over who sleeps on the couch And who takes the bed And who wins that battle is anyone’s bet (Wolfwood’s considered picking Vash up and throwing him in the room Blocking the door from opening somehow Because yeah, Vash doesn’t have injuries anymore But he should rest) But honestly, at this point It’s more teasing and grumbling And last night it devolved into a rock, paper, scissors situation

Then they wake up Vash has his blasphemous coffee Wolfwood makes some sort of breakfast Vash cleans up Wolfwood introduces him to a few of his favorite shows Vash binges through Livio’s entire erotica collection Wolfwood teaches him how to browse the web (A mistake, that man loves memes and only ever uses them wrong)

And, very pointedly Wolfwood doesn’t talk about all that angel shit And neither does Vash

[motircatranautracinya]

do not forget

listen know learn and never ever forget not the wars, the history, the atrocities not the joys, the learnings, the hopes listen to the story take it all in so that you know, you learn and never ever forget forgive if you can