#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]

Whispers in the dark

All is quiet, drowsy, still

The only sound, gold leaves in gentle sway

In the dusk alone, sweet whispers on our lips

Sharing secrets we already know

We hold each other in the dying embers of the day

I love you like a bird loves flight

I love you like a moth loves light

I love you with all of my might

...

I love you more than life itself

. . .

I'm flattered, but that's a bit far

I mean exactly what I said

That one time you disappeared

A pitch black hole cut through my chest

I wanted them, and then me, dead

I can't bear to see you hurt

Loosing you, a living hell

I'd fight armies by myself

I would die to keep you safe

I'd rather you lived for me as well

Not sure what I would do without you-

Well think about how I would feel!

I've almost lost you too before

Flying into vengeful rage

The only way to somewhat deal

Don't think I could live through again

To see you broken, barely here

The only thing to cause more fear

Is you missing from my life

Left without someone so dear

Achieved a stalemate, don't you think?

Neither wills to kneel or budge

As long as we are hunted down

And there's people to be saved

Guess only fate can be our judge

And yet

Promise me you'll save yourself

Promise me, no deadly risks

... you know I can't

Then I can't either

Won't promise what I cannot keep

Instead I'll hold you, just like this

'Till light runs out, the world asleep

To memorise the feel of you

So every time we are apart

The emptiness won't cut so deep

(Don't really have much to say about this one, other than I had a lot of fun making it and I hope you enjoy it :) )

Once again, green = Momo, orange = Okarun, uncoloured = both

[edennill]

fragment of a númenórean poetry chapbook

(a few pages, labeled 4-6, torn out from a larger folio. loc: archives of minas tirith, hall 7, aisle 13d)

exilic, unheard

you, woman of the fourteenth street, raising herbs on a fifth-floor balcony digging a sun-dry hand into the earth do they taste of ash, those bitter herbs of our mourning because we would not bow down beneath a tyrant's reign sparrows scattered by a heavy blow?

we that you exile shall not touch the soil of that land again or alight upon it, this miscarried age, this year turning to winter

our bones are scattered upon the winds the smoke of our life's breath settles on your windows, king's city when you look out you will see us in the sunlight, glinting

(note on title: an exilic is in the old tradition a lament of exile, first popularised as a form by the high elves of the first age. c.f: gilnir son of duilin, "maglor's noldolantë as an exilic lament and historical lay", 4.a. 126)

love songs for a darker time

if blood is red, then life is white, and if my love for you a rose, duty's the thorn and if the truth is light, and light is song and if 'tis not misfortune to be born! then let my flame burn bright before I fall and let a song more right uncover all

untitled

if die I must, when I die — let me see the stars one last time before I go so I may tell

(verse cuts off, water damage. the rest seems to have been subsequently rewritten in pencil too blurred to read)

(ink on the margin, in poor hand, an epigram of unclear meaning: "shadow falling on the isle of kings/the song is ended" — a child sings)

[edennill-archived]

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.

[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?"

[afterreign]

it's what you make of it fandom: no home summary: A concrete poem about that high school dormitory deep, deep, deep in the forest and the ones who haunt it. text preview:

it is not what it is but what you make of it when you scrub the floor with scuffed hands or meticulously cook a breakfast for one, then two, then three [...]

[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.

[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. :)

[roseride01-blog]

Mother of the Dawn

She stands amidst a waste of life, 

the ashes of a birthright burning,

a dragon in a land of sheep, 

willing to kill her kingdom to be queen. 

Decrees that those who do not bend

must break, the pieces of the 

shattered remains of her madness. 

The breaker of armies and 

pyro with soldiers and their sons, 

soldering any will of iron. 

Born of lightning and smoldering legacy,

she claims what is hers with Fire and Blood. 

But as she stands amidst the requiem of a funeral pyre, 

her determination is as bright as her dragon’s fire. 

Declaring that no flame is to be bought or sold, 

and with dried blood makes her declaration known. 

They called her “mother” 

as she stood in the light of day. 

Sunlight can start wildfires, 

and she is burning her path in the world as both. 

Change is a fire, 

and she’s the first of embers. 

Dragons of conquest, 

a sunrise over the water. 

She is both, 

mad with her power and 

the mother’s mercy, 

the Promise of the Dawn.

As Game of Thrones’ Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, 

The Mother of Dragons, 

The Unburnt, 

The Breaker of Chains, 

her actress, Emilia Clarke, survived two brain aneurysms. 

“You walk out on set, and you play a badass, and you walk through fire, 

and that really became the thing that saved me from 

contemplating my own mortality.” 

The Mother of her Own Dawn, 

she broke her own chains, 

tamed her own fire, 

and she didn’t need her dragons to do it. 

[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."

[fanpoemsbyrheva]

Fan Poem #1 | Good Omens

Someone has to pretend that Aziraphale knows what Aziraphale is doing.

Aziraphale

In my “life time” I have seen quite a few things A privilege that comes with my bright white wings and I should be crying golden tears for by now I have been here around 6000 years.

My decisions lead me back, back in the Up, even left behind my precious angel cup, and even the one I was assigned to by cupid, now he/she/they suffers and said that I’m stupid.

But since I arrived, since I’ve been “born” I can’t help but feel so utterly torn between the good, the right, and the holy and having it challenged by my lovely dear Crowley.

If only I could have told them before I got in the lift that I sensed in Metatron and heaven a shift, they want to “free” the people, I must come to their aid otherwise, darling, I then would have stayed.

I can sense great terror advancing, despite it all, I'll be practising my dancing, for when I come back, we will be free and then I need you - and you forgiving me.

Maybe then we can bring rain, storm and hail until then … yours truly

(Azirufalala Azirapapal Aziphafalara) – Aziraphale

[little-shop-of-stories]

Entwined (a Momokarun fanpoem)

I fell so hard I couldn't breathe

It caught me by surprise

I'm sorry for my cowardice

Can't bear to look into your eyes

That little note I meant sincerely

So please look my way again

Too embarrassed to admit that

I love you more than just a friend

My heartbeat thunders in my chest

When you hold my hand and when you smile

But am I worthy of your love?

There must be someone more worthwhile ...

You're worth more than you may feel

Don't care what others think or say

Not a burden, but a light

You brighten up my every day

Holding hands while walking home

Not sure how long will still suffice

Share more than just a hug or smile

Our little piece of paradise

You brought colour to my world

You always listen when I speak

About whatever it may be

Never feel like I'm a freak

You don't have to fight alone

I'll be always on your side

Don't let your demons steer you wrong

No need to run or plead or hide

I will always have your back

When your recklessness falls through

I cannot let go of your hand

Even if it ends me to protect you

I trust you with my very life

I'd always feel safe in your arms

I don't wanna miss my chance

Please don't be taken by their charms

When I make mistakes, you lift me up

Tell me everything will be okay

We'll fix it together, like we always do

Together we won't lose our way

I can always trust your plans

That get us through the toughest fight

You inspire, kind and clever

You give me courage to stand against the night

I can count on you to save me

When I'm out of luck and spent

I rely on you more than I seem to

Alone I'm unsure, lost and scared

I'll never let you come to harm

By solemn promise I am bound

I'd lose my mind, my life, my soul

Just to keep you safe and sound

If something were to take you from me

Know I can't accept finality

Lost, dead, I would retrieve you

I'd find a way to bend reality

With just three words I would be yours

Mind, body, soul, forever

But we both know that's a lie

You in me entwined ever since we met

I need you always by my side

(Hi, hello, have this Momokarun poem, which is the longest poem I've ever written. These two have been occupying 90 % of my brain this month, they're just too goddamn cute.)

Just in case anyone needs clarification: orange=Okarun, green=Momo, uncoloured=both at the same time

[edennill-archived]

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?

[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

[randowwriter]

This Regret Of Mine

@batgirlsay Here’s the second and final (probably just for now, because I do want to give your fanmix another listen in the future) fanpoem based off of your HisaKiki Week 2022 fanmix! <3 <3 <3  It’s also from Hisame’s point of view. :) https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14250129/1/This-Regret-Of-Mine