#raven quills: poetry

[ravenstakeflight]

chlorine

it sticks in your hair. it's four in the morning and you are sticky and sweaty and helping set the pool up. the deck is cold. you are cold. but it is warm. the pool is even colder. nothing makes sense, except for your coach. he also never makes sense. it's still dark. you can barely see. the floodlights are on and you squint in the bright lights reflected from the pool.

the pool is cold. it soaks into your skin and you are here. present, in the moment even as you feel yourself flying away when you dive into the water. it is four-thirty in the morning and you are in a different city surrounded by the same people that love and hate you.

the pool is warm. your body is cold. you are used to the shivers that wrack your body even as you warm up.

you kick off the wall.

you kick off the wall.

you kick off the wall.

it is here, it is now, and it is endless.

the pool is all that matters. you let callouses form on your feet, let yourself ache when you slam into a teammate or the lane line, and you remind yourself that you are here.

you always smell of chlorine, even on vacation.

the pool is a part of you now, and it doesn't let you go.

[quillswords]

with your graceful flight and sweet, lovely voice with your cunning eyes and the way you strut

i consider it an unkindness to call you an unkindness

[dylan-of-the-raven]

I gaze upon an ocean of gathered ink, from every quill that ever dared to bleed poetry.

Dylan of the Raven

[elsewhereuniversity]

They Gentry call her Magpie.

A wordsmith with a love of poetry, a crafter of trinkets, a clever bird with a glittering hoard and too many wits for her own good. She was an easy mark, once, easily lured by shiny baubles and flowery words, a prize songbird fit for slaughter. But, like all corvids, she was both smart and loud; she knew when she was being tricked, and fled into the Library squawking bloody murder, a clarion call for whatever aid could be spared. Her emergence was a storm of reflected light and righteous fury, the grudge of a corvid whose flock had been pestered for far too long. She took back what was hers and then some; her new boundaries clearly drawn in salt and spilled blood. She is a thief, the Gentry say, and she wears her namesake well.

To her fellow students she is Rook, Jackdaw, Raven, Bluejay, Crow - any number of avian names, so long as they are Corvidae in nature. She is an English major with Forbidden friends, a charmsmith of feathers and iron, a poet with a silver tongue, a friend to the crows. In her early days at Elsewhere she was a wanderer lost, pale pink stars on a denim jacket winking out far too fast. A memory lost was found and repurchased, an act of open rebellion which caught the Gentry’s ire. A damascene knife made quick work of the shadows, but that wasn’t the only darkness she faced. Seasonal depression followed her Elsewhere, and a month without a sky takes a toll on the mind. A golden pin now adorns a jacket sewn with stars, and the miniature sun which lights her steps has led many out of the Gentry’s clutches. Webcutter may be her primary weapon, but a phoenix-feather quill or a blown-glass pen are just as deadly in a poet’s hands.

The Gentry call her Magpie. Thief. Enemy.

The students call her Murder.

[wedarkacademia]

dark academia stationary tips? ideas? please? i beg of you.

Deepen Your Dive into Dark Academia Stationery:

Crafting the Canvas:

Paper: Embrace the tactile – rough-edged parchment, marbled sheets, hand-dyed linen paper. Seek antique ledgers, vintage score sheets, or maps for a truly timeworn effect.

Ink: Let your words drip in history – deep emerald greens, rich burgundy, charcoal grey. Discover shimmering gold or silver for elegant annotations. For an extra flourish, explore calligraphy inks and vintage fountain pens.

Beyond the Basics:

Washi Tapes: Forget the neon, embrace botanical prints, celestial patterns, and antique library stamps. Layer them for depth, use them to seal letters, or decorate journal edges.

Stickers & Tags: Pressed leaves, dried flowers, and ephemera from library archives add a touch of natural mystery. Vintage anatomy diagrams, constellations, and old library catalog cards offer an academic flair.

Sealing Secrets: Wax seals & ribbons elevate simple letters into heirlooms. Choose deep green wax, embossed with a raven, a quill, or your own monogram. Tie with silk or hemp twine for a finishing touch.

Unleashing the Scholarly Spirit:

Journals & Notebooks: Opt for leather-bound volumes, with aged paper and ribbon bookmarks. Decorate with antique maps, pressed flowers, or handwritten quotes from your favorite poets.

Organizing Knowledge: Index cards, vintage library pockets, and antique file folders help categorize your studies. Label them with elegant script and adorn them with botanical sketches or scientific diagrams.

The Scholar's Tools: Antique brass compasses, vintage rulers, and magnifying glasses add a touch of academic ambiance to your desk.

Whispers of Antiquity:

Poetry & Letters: Handwrite in a flowing script, penning sonnets or letters to fellow scholars. Let foreign languages add a touch of mystery, or slip in quotes from forgotten classics.

Ephemera & Found Objects: Tuck pressed leaves, antique botanical prints, or ticket stubs from forgotten museums into your notebooks. Let them spark inspiration and evoke past journeys.

The Art of Storytelling: Create your own dark academia-inspired stationery. Make vintage-themed envelopes from maps, decorate boxes with constellation patterns, or craft your own wax seal stamp.

Remember, dark academia is about embracing an atmosphere. Let your creativity flow, curate your collection with intention, and transform your stationery into a portal to an enchanting world of forgotten knowledge and secret societies.

[screamingiminlovewithyou]

No one:

Taylor: when I wrote folklore I was no longer myself….I was a pioneer woman in a Victorian nightgown living in a cabin with a babbling brook and a raven greeted me every morning to tell me the weather and I collected feathers and wrote poetry on old parchment with a quill and hand-sewed all of my clothing from fabrics I harvested myself and I went into the village every waning gibbous for tinctures from the apothecary and had old tree stumps for chairs and lily pads for napkins and

[artzychic27]

Blame @msweebyness’s post for this… I call this au Miraculopolis

@imsparky2002

Marinette: Goddess of Luck and Chance. Her symbols are ladybugs and clovers

Adrien: God of Family and Children. His symbols are domestic cats and carnations

Alya: Goddess of Messaging and Facts. Her symbols are spectacles and pigeons

Nino: God of Protection and Defense. His symbols are shields and turtles

Nathaniel: God of the Fine Arts and Inspiration. His symbols are paintbrushes and peacocks

Alix: Goddess of Time and Memory. Her symbols are clocks and rabbits

Juleka: Goddess of Serenity and Inner Beauty. Her symbols are mirrors and ravens

Rose: Goddess of Romance and Love. Her symbols are roses and doves

Sabrina: Goddess of Loyalty and Companionship. Her symbols are rings and wolves

Chloé: Goddess of Wealth and Prosperity. Her symbols are gold coins and bees

Kim: God of Sportsmanship and Victory. His symbols are palm branches and eagles

Max: God of Statistics and Possibilities. His symbols are abacuses and horses

Ivan: God of Poetry and Ballads. His symbols are quills and mice

Myléne: Goddess of Nature and Grains. Her symbols are cornucopias and bears

Marc: God of Literature and Epic Tales. His symbols are fountain pens and roosters

Aurore: Goddess of the Sun. Her symbols are parasols and lions

Mireille: Goddess of the Moon. Her symbols are wool and sheep

Reshma: Goddess of Craftmentship. Her symbols are a needle and thread and spiders

Ismael: God of Mischief. His symbols are apples and foxes

Lacey: Goddess of Siblinghood. Her symbols are rope and frogs

Jean: God of Theater and Entertainment. His symbols are comedy and tragedy masks, and songbirds

Cosette: Goddess of Masking and Adaption. Her symbols are a makeup pallet and chameleons

Zoé: Goddess of Rebellion. Her symbols are broken handcuffs and a tiger

Simon: God of Technology and Surveillance. His symbols are eye-shaped pendants and hawks

Denise: Goddex of Strength and Health. Their symbols are barbells and bulls

Luka: God of Music and Emotional health. His symbols are lyres and snakes

Kagami: Goddess of Combat. Her symbols are swords and dragons

Ondine: Goddess of the Sea. Her symbols are a trident and orcas

Different nations, different mythologies and deities

They’re all powerful deities, but they still act like teenagers, get crushes, drink a lot of wine, have wild parties up in the heavens, and crash mortal parties whenever they please

Being the goddess of Masking and Adaption, Cosette can shapeshift into any animal she pleases while the others only shapeshift into the animals they’re associated with

Cosette: Random animal exit! *Shapeshift into a shark and starts flopping around on the ground before shifting back and gasping for air* Random… Land animal exit! *Shapeshifts into an ostrich and walks away*

Zoé: Even as an ostrich, they’re still gorgeous.

Marc and Nathaniel have been crushing on each other for eons

Rose and Juleka have been girlfriends for centuries now. Juleka is not affected by Rose’s romance-inducing aura, and Rose is not affected by Juleka’s almost ethereal beauty. They just love each other

Adrien has almost this maternal instinct due to being the god of family and children, and as such, he adores mortal infants

A former member of the gods and goddesses of Miraculous is Lila, the goddess of deceit and trickery. Her symbols are jackals and masks. She still has her divine powers, but she’s not allowed back in the skyward abode of the gods and goddesses for a multitude of reasons, and has offended each of the others gods in some way

Also… She was just annoying as hell

*During an outing in the divine garden, long before Lila was banished, Myléne is telling the others about a new tree she had come up with. The others are listening intently when Lila suddenly interrupts*

Nino: Someone, make her stop!

*Nathaniel summons his paintbrush staff and slathers a bit of red paint over Lila’s mouth. It dries in an instant, and her words come out muffled*

Nino: *Sighs* Much butter.

Ismael possesses an object called The Golden Apple of Chaos. Basically, when he throws it, it causes some sort of havoc somewhere

He’s always tempting mortal children to cause a little chaos

Ismael: Just think of it, Manon. You, me. All the chaos. All the discord! ALL THE FREE CHICKEN!

Legend from both Miraculous and Prodigious mythology tells of a monster named Kiku, once a mortal man who wanted to become stronger. One night, he snuck into Kim, Denise, and Kagami’s temples, and stole one of Kim’s medals, one of Denise’s barbels, and one of Kagami’s swords. When they discovered this, the god, goddex, and goddess punished him by turning him into a monstrous bear-like creature. He had impenetrable skin and could tear through entire villages with his claws

One quirk about him is that whenever he gets flustered or excited, a peacock tail will fan out from behind him

A tale from mythology of Miraculous talks about how Nino developed feelings for Alya when she protected him and several mortals from a dangerous monster while they were visiting the mortal realm

Wherever Marinette steps, four-leaf clovers grow

When they arrive in the mortal realm, their entrances are all a sight to behold that you’ll wanna punch yourself if you miss them

According to Miraculous mythology, whenever Rose travels to the mortal realm, she descends from the sky in a flurry of rose petals. And when she lands on the ground, several doves appear at her side, and she emits a pink aura that causes people to momentarily fall in love with the first person they see

When Nathaniel comes to visit the mortal realm, the sky becomes an array of colors as his beautiful, iridescent chariot is drawn by several peacocks.

Reshma descends from the sky, performing aerial tricks using spider web silk. Her feet never touch the ground as a clutter of spiders carry her about, almost making it look like she’s gliding

Lore has it, that centuries ago, Denise nursed a young injured bull they named Aithen back to health, and infused him with some of their divine magic, helping him grow stronger over time until he was able to pull their heavy two ton chariot on his own

And, there is a tale stating that Simon won Denise’s heart after using his wits to vanquish a monster attacking the mortals

According to mythology, Lacey bestows blessings on mortal children and their siblings, helping to strengthen their bonds and know when their siblings are in need

While Lila may be the goddess of deceit and has done some terrible things over the centuries, she still has standards. As such, she refuses to ever interact with Lucien, the god of Onedience and Power, and Emani, the god of Manipulation, who were also ousted from their heavenly abodes

Max’s sacred object is his golden abacus, gifted to him by Kim. Centuries ago, Kim melted several of his prized golden medals to create it for him

During the annual Olympics hosted by the Miraculous, teams from different nations come to compete for glory. The gods and goddesses watch from the stands while disguised as humans or the animals they are associated with. Kim, meanwhile, is in his god form and loudly cheering for the team representing Miraculous

While Nathaniel is one of the kindest gods of Miraculous, but he also has a fiery temper. When provoked, he’ll fly into a rage, and even the other deities know to approach with caution

One way to piss him off is by claiming you’re a better artist than him. He’ll curse you so that any piece of art or art material you touch will turn into dust. *cough* Louis *cough*

Due to being the Prodigious god of not only Theater, but also Entertainment, whenever there’s a party happening in the mortal realm, Jean is known to make a grand appearance. This is usually when he feels as though the party’s reaches its peak. Guests are to be advised that whenever Jean attends a mortal party, it doesn’t stop unless he wants to stop. The longest was a week

Zoé, the Prodigious goddess of Rebellion is also known to frequent parties, usually ones thrown by teenagers who plan and attend it without their parents knowing. From the heavens, she descends using a charriot drawn by two majestic tigers. She describes parties such as that as, “Rebellion in its most premature form!”

[enigmaxcx]

Gothic Chronicles: Midnight's Veiled Secrets

This is a collection of poems that explore themes of loss, love, and the supernatural. Each piece offers a unique perspective on the complex emotions that accompany these experiences. As you read through this anthology, you may find yourself connecting with the universal truths that resonate within these lines.

1st poem: **Crimson Manuscripts**

In ancient halls where silence reigns,

Dust-laden tomes breathe secrets, unrestrained.

I walk the edge of lore, long since forgotten,

My heart inscribed with desires begotten.

With quill in hand, my constant guide,

Into the well of night, I confide.

A scribe of echoes from the void,

Crafting words, in melancholy alloyed.

"Unveil your stories, O manuscripts of red,

Your vellum skin to my soul is wed.

A nomad I, charting celestial designs,

In the margins of sonnets, my spirit aligns."

Shadows dance in the candle's fickle glow,

Over leather-bound legacies of long ago.

My pen bleeds ink, as if it were life,

Carving my essence amidst existential strife.

Epochs lost, their essence I distill,

In a whirlwind of memories that time can't kill.

An alchemist of words, in the arcane I delve,

Turning longing into verses, transiently shelved.

"Speak, O crimson tomes, your veins wide spread,

Upon your pages, my yearnings are said.

A wanderer am I, through constellations I roam,

In the forgotten verses, I find my home."

Gargoyles stand guard, stoic and grim,

At the gates of forever, their visages dim.

Their stone-cast gaze, the moon's sorrow reflects,

As I seek comfort in ancient dialects.

The piano's lament, the violin's cry,

And the cello's deep thrum under centuries lie.

On the brink of the void, I dance alone,

My steps resounding in a timeless tone.

"Reveal your depths, O manuscripts of hue,

My longing etched on your surface true.

A traveler of the stars, in your words I'm dressed,

In the forgotten poetry, my journey's expressed."

As the last note into silence wanes,

Within these lines, my spirit remains.

A ghostly minstrel serenading the night,

On eternity's parchment, my soul takes flight.

2nd poem: **Eternal Shadows**

In this manor, I wander, through silence and gloom,

Footsteps echo softly in each abandoned room.

Moonlight bathes me gently, as I softly tread,

Among the living's memories, I whisper with the dead.

In the moon's soft glow, my secrets unfold,

A phantom in the night, a story left untold.

Eternal shadows, where I roam free,

In this house of spirits, it's just the ghosts and me.

Through halls of mystery, where silent echoes play,

We're the souls of forever, in the night we stay.

Dust dances in the beam, time seems to freeze,

In this place of stillness, where moments cease.

Portraits watch silently, as I pass them by,

In the manor's heart, where old secrets lie.

Shadows cling to my steps, as I tiptoe through time,

In this spectral dance, where memories chime.

In this realm of silence, where I drift unseen,

Amongst the echoes, a solitary queen.

In the mansion of whispers, where secrets sway,

We're the timeless wanderers, in the shadows we play.

Feel the past's chill, as it draws near?

In the wind's whisper, it's our voices you hear.

Shadows stretch eternal, in this spectral ballet,

With the phantoms, my companions, in the night we sway.

Through corridors of enigma, where muted stories say,

We're the everlasting echoes, in the twilight's gray.

In the moon’s waning light, I catch a fleeting glimpse—a face unfamiliar, yet tethered to my soul.

The manor murmurs secrets, and I am but an echo, lost in its labyrinth of forgotten moments.

3rd poem: **The Raven's Whisper**

Beneath the silver veil of moonlight's kiss,

Where shadows merge and secrets intertwine,

I wander through the garden of forgotten dreams,

Seeking solace in the petals of night-blooming flowers.

The moon, a silent witness to my yearning,

Whispers ancient verses to the restless wind.

Its luminescent fingers trace delicate patterns,

Weaving tales of love and loss across the sky.

In this nocturnal sanctuary, memories bloom,

Each petal a fragment of a fractured heart.

I pluck them one by one, like fragile confessions,

And scatter them upon the dew-kissed grass.

The nightingale, perched upon a moonbeam,

Sings a requiem for love's ephemeral dance.

Its melody weaves through the jasmine vines,

Echoing the ache of longing in every note.

I trace the constellations with trembling fingers,

Mapping out our celestial rendezvous.

Did you once stand here, beneath this same moon,

Whispering promises that time has now erased?

The night wears on, and I become a ghost,

Drunk on moonlight and the fragrance of roses.

Perhaps, in this enchanted hour, you'll return,

And we'll dance once more in moonlit reverie.

4th poem: **Whispers from the Veil**

Beneath the moon's soft veil, we gather,

In the dim-lit chamber, secrets tethered.

A séance of souls, both lost and found,

Where spectral echoes dance, unbound.

The crystal ball, a portal spun,

Holds reflections of lives undone.

Its facets catch the flicker of stars,

As we seek communion beyond the bars.

The medium's breath, a whispered plea,

Invites the unseen to speak with glee.

Their voices rise from shadowed past,

A chorus of memories that forever last.

"Tell us," we implore, "of love's sweet pain,

Of promises broken, of longing's refrain."

And the room trembles with their reply,

A symphony of whispers, reaching sky-high.

The air thickens, charged with their essence,

As they recount tales of love's evanescence.

Their fingers brush ours, a spectral touch,

And we glimpse eternity in moments such.

The séance chamber hums with cosmic threads,

Binding us to realms where time unweds.

In this dance of spirits, we find solace anew,

As moonlight weaves stories, both old and true.

5th poem: **Portrait Of Despair**

Whispers haunt the hallowed space,

A gallery where time's embrace

Has left a mark on every face,

Each portrait tells of sorrow's trace.

A viscountess, her gaze so stern,

Her lover's touch she did spurn.

Now in her eyes, the cold fires burn,

For his return, she'll always yearn.

A captain, lost to ocean's wrath,

His ship did stray from charted path.

In stormy seas, he met his fate,

His portrait speaks of storms innate.

A child, with eyes so wide and clear,

His innocence was held so dear.

Yet fate was cruel, the night unkind,

His story leaves tears behind.

A maiden fair, with golden hair,

Once danced with grace, a pair so rare.

But love was lost, the dance did end,

Her silent song, it does transcend.

A poet's quill, now still and broke,

His verses lost, like vanished smoke.

The inkwell dry, the parchment torn,

For his muse, forever mourn.

A duelist with rapier drawn,

Stands proud and fierce, yet all forlorn.

His honor kept, his life forsworn,

In morning's light, he lies forlorn.

A widow's veil, her somber shroud,

Her whispered grief, it speaks aloud.

Her heart entombed, her love enshrined,

In painted form, her woes confined.

A jester's laugh, forever mute,

His mirthful mask, a grim dispute.

Behind the paint, the tears dilute,

His joy's facade, now destitute.

Each frame, a window to the past,

Holds echoes of a spell once cast.

The gallery, a somber host,

To each despairing, silent ghost.

So tread with care through memory's lane,

Where painted eyes live on in pain.

For every tale the portraits share,

Reflects a soul once trapped in despair.

The gallery grows, the walls extend,

New portraits join, old stories blend.

In this domain where spirits send

Their silent pleas, their hearts to mend.

Here, time stands still, the world outside

Fades to a whisper, hushed and wide.

Each canvas breathes, each shade confide,

The depths of pain they cannot hide.

So linger long, and gaze upon

The faces here, not truly gone.

Their silent mouths may yet respond,

In this gallery, they live beyond.

6th poem: **Cryptic Alchemy**

Shadowed chambers, whispers weave,

A blend of dark synth and mysterious chants,

Forbidden knowledge etched in cryptic runes,

Where secrets stir and ancient echoes dance.

No sun's embrace, no moon's soft kiss,

Only shadows' veiled embrace and moonless nights,

The alchemist, a weaver of enigma, chants,

Arcane melodies that pierce the void's veil.

Ebon potions simmer in onyx cauldrons,

Their essence distilled from forgotten realms,

Each drop a tincture of forgotten memories,

A concoction of lost dreams and starlight's breath.

The astral symphony crescendos, spiraling,

As darkness and light entwine, seeking balance,

The alchemist, eyes ablaze with ancient fire,

Unravels the cosmic threads, seeking truth.

Glyphs etched on obsidian tablets sing,

Their meaning veiled, yet yearning to be known,

For Cryptic Alchemy weaves the fabric of existence,

Where shadows birth illumination, and silence speaks.

So listen, mortal seeker, to the whispers of the void,

For within their echoes lie the keys, the ciphered codes,

Unlock the gates, step beyond the mundane,

And become the alchemist, weaver of mysteries.

7th poem: **Whispers from the Attic**

Creaking floorboards, distant voices,

A symphony of past choices,

Echoes of steps that once did pace,

Through corridors of time and space.

Above, where dust motes dance in light,

The attic holds its court at night,

A realm of silence, still and deep,

Where secrets their sacred vigil keep.

What tales are etched within these walls?

Of grandeur's rise and empire's falls,

The gentle touch of a lover's hand,

A sailor's journey to distant lands.

Here, the whispers are not of dread,

But of life's tapestry, finely thread,

A dressmaker's needle, a writer's pen,

Moments captured, again and again.

The attic, with its musty scent,

Is a treasure trove of times spent,

A chest of memories, locked away,

Awaiting the light of day.

Photographs in sepia tones,

Love letters in heartfelt overtones,

A child's toy, long forgotten,

In this space, nothing is rotten.

Each creak a word, each shadow a story,

A chronicle of both joy and worry,

The attic speaks to those who hear,

Its whispers clear, its message dear.

So venture forth, if you dare,

To uncover the mysteries waiting there,

For in the whispers from the attic's heart,

Lies a world set apart.

8th poem: **Gargoyle's Serenade**

I was supposed to be sent away,

To lands where stone figures don't sway,

But here I stand, a guardian grim,

Upon the cathedral's highest rim.

Carved from the earth's own rugged bone,

I watch the city, silent and alone,

A sentinel in the sky's expanse,

Overseeing the human dance.

My gaze is fixed, my purpose clear,

To ward off evil, to calm the fear,

With guitar in hand, I play my part,

A serenade from the stone heart.

The melody weaves through spire and stone,

A song of ages, through winds blown,

It tells of battles, of love, of strife,

Of the endless ebb and flow of life.

The chords resonate, deep and profound,

In every corner, the notes resound,

A testament to the watch I keep,

While the city below lies in sleep.

By day, I'm still, a figure austere,

By night, my music, the heavens hear,

A symphony for the stars above,

Played with a touch of eternal love.

The moon bathes me in silver light,

As I play on through the quiet night,

A gargoyle's serenade, pure and true,

For the cathedral and for you.

So let the guitar's voice rise and swell,

Let it break the night's silent spell,

For in this song, you'll find ensnared,

The spirit of the guardians paired.

And when the dawn paints the sky anew,

And the city stirs, life to pursue,

Remember the music that filled the air,

From the gargoyle's perch, high up there.

9th poem: ** Midnight Masquerade **

Under the moon's silver gaze, the night unfurls its cape,

A ballroom emerges in the forest's embrace.

"Midnight Masquerade," whispers the wind's soft escape,

Where shadows and starlight waltz in silent grace.

Masked figures glide, their steps a silent plea,

To the rhythm of hearts, to the pulse of the night.

Each turn, a story, a hidden fantasy,

Faces veiled in mystery, souls alight.

The moonlit sky, a witness to their dance,

Casts a glow on masks of velvet and lace.

In the masquerade's enchanting trance,

Time dissolves in the dancers' harmonious space.

A clock strikes twelve, the spell gently breaks,

But the dance lives on in dreams it awakes.

For in the night's tender, fleeting sweep,

The masquerade's magic is ours to keep.

10th poem: ** Fading Candlelight **

Quiet whispers linger in the room's embrace,

Where the last candle's flame begins its trace.

"Fading Candlelight," it hums with grace,

A tale of twilight, in the evening's chase.

Its flame dances with a tender, wistful air,

A ballet of shadows in the dimming lair.

Each flicker, a memory, each spark, a sigh,

A symphony of moments, as time ticks by.

The wax drips slowly, a river of tears,

For the passing days, the fleeting years.

The light wanes gently, a golden hue,

A silent sentinel in the dusk's purview.

Around the flame, the darkness creeps,

A cloak of obsidian, where daylight sleeps.

Yet in its warm embrace, the candle stands,

A beacon of hope in the night's vast lands.

The room breathes softly, a lullaby's tune,

As the candle's aura fills the cocoon.

Stories unfold in its radiant bloom,

A dance of life in the encroaching gloom.

The flame leans low, a lover's caress,

Against the night, a silent confess.

Its brilliance wavers, a faltering heart,

A sign that soon, it must depart.

But oh, the tales it could tell,

Of love and loss, of heaven and hell.

In its light, life found a stage,

A book of hours on an ephemeral page.

Now the candle's breath grows thin,

A final flicker from within.

The shadows lengthen, reaching out,

Embracing all in a silent shout.

And as the last ember takes its bow,

The room is shrouded in the now.

"Fading Candlelight," a whisper's trace,

Leaves behind a darkened space.

Yet in the black, a new day stirs,

For life persists, it still endures.

The candle's gone, but in its wake,

A new dawn blooms, for us to take.

So let the night claim its due,

For with the morn, we start anew.

In the heart of darkness, find the light,

And hold it close, through the longest night.

[ravenpostpublishing]

Writers, Lend an Ear (or, Rather, a Quill):

Do you have a Gothic tale dark and terrible? Or, perhaps, a twisted and tempting poem? If so, you are in luck, for those are our bread and butter—and we’re ever so hungry.

Allow us to introduce ourselves: We are the humble staff of The Raven Post, an entirely electronic anthology of ghoulish tales and grim poetry from antiquity and the present day. Within our many pages, you’ll find tales from Poe, Blackwood, Wharton, and others (including our loyal readers), as well as the occasional bit of news from our esteemed Editor-in-Chief.

We are currently seeking to grow our anthology and are thus accepting short-story and poetry submissions from writing hobbyists with a knack for the macabre and morose. If this sounds as though it’s up your (dark, grimy, and likely haunted) alley, do visit our Submissions page for further information and instruction.

Please, take a peek if you dare—we're simply dying to have you.

Warmest regards, The Raven Post Staff

[outofangband]

Birds of Estolad

Written for @melestasflight

Flora, fauna, geography and environment Masterlist

Other bird posts: Himlad, The March

Other information in the Estolad tag including my environment posts

I love doing general flora and fauna posts but I can’t fit everything in them so I’m trying to make more specific ones as well! please please feel free to send categories to work on with locations! Or any environmental world building asks!

Estolad is a region in Northeastern Beleriand. It was a wide plain located between the river Aros on the west and the river Gelion on the east. It was south of the March of Maedhros and north of the Andram.

We have little canonical information about the environment or ecology of Estolad. For this post, I have primarily used the environmental information for other locations in Eastern Beleriand (though it should be noted that the climate of Ossiriand does differ greatly from the areas between the March and Maglor’s Gap and the Andram). I have also used geographic information and the environmental world building I’ve previously done

Tolkien primarily used plains, prairies and grasslands of North America and parts of Europe and Asia

Like my other similar posts, I’ve included world building notes at the end so it’s not just a list of species! A lot of aspects and species are similar to Himlad but I didn’t repeat all of the same because I didn’t want to get too repetitive! Because of this, I don’t have quite as many birds and some of my notes are a little more frivolous which I apologize for

On the plain: common quail, corn bunting, common buzzard, steppe eagle, hazel grouse, grey partridge, pallid harrier, steppe eagle, black grouse, great grey strike, crested lark, golden eagle (rare), common cuckoo (migratory), lesser kestrel, great bustard, pale backed pigeon, imperial eagle, white throated bushchat

Water birds (on the river banks, in wetlands closer to the Andram and Ossiriand, and in small lakes and ponds): white stork (migratory), common crane, mallard duck, white tailed eagle, water rail, glossy ibis, common loon, gadwell

In trees around the rivers and by the Andram: long eared owls, common bullfinch, grey wagtail, mountain accentor (in the north and south of the region), common hoopoe (migratory), little owl, grey headed woodpecker, common raven, merlin, common golden oriole, common nightjar

World building notes:

-The Noldorin host of Estolad rely on birds for food (meat and eggs), feathers (for down, quills, etc) and companionship/aid

--Among the Noldor in Estolad, birds of prey are used for hunting. The species most commonly used are the pallid harrier and the steppe eagle

-The small population of green elves in Estolad do not eat birds however they do eat eggs of some species including ones they’ve domesticated. They also use feathers in and on clothing and with down.

-Birds are common in the folklore, language and art of both elven peoples of Estolad. Though most of the established Noldorin lore originated before their settling there, some tales and phrases and art do develop among their host. Some of these develop in connection to the lore and traditions of the green elves there

One such tradition are styles of paintings of birds, similar to the bird and flower or Huaniaohua in the real world. These developed in part inspired by spoken poetry and song by the green elves, particularly those related to their spring gatherings.

-The green elves of Estolad likewise have an abundance of lore and beliefs about the animals around them including many about birds and symbolic meaning given to species. White storks for example are symbolic of approaching death, winter or other natural changes of a somber nature. Common golden orioles are signifiers of late summer and early autumn. They are associated with the increased pressure to forage and store food for the winter and their image often appears on the cloth bags that hold certain items

-There is a tiny lake near where the initial settlements by Amrod and Amras’s host was. During the first spring, baby cranes were seen on the water. Some of the advisers and higher ups became very fond of the little family.

-Estolad was also inhabited by humans. Several cultures lived there for a time after coming west from over the Ered Luin. Just like other aspects of the environment and life of Estolad, the birds of Estolad entered the lore and knowledge of the Edain hosts, combining and joining with the lore and knowledge from their old homes beyond the Ered Luin.

Note: I want to go more in to their relationship of the humans here with the environment, including with birds on another post so I can do that in more depth 

[nickmccaffrey]

black bird

he has the smallest wings and the blackest feathers

tonight has the harshest wind

and the worst of weather

he wonders when he's gonna be poetry material

cause he's no raven, but he looks for carrion

and if he flies around, he'll know the quill

cause he's the darkest bird that ever will exist

and camouflaged in an ominous night

he's stops at a window looking for the light

not even knowing what he'll find

inside the shack, there was a man

scared, looking for the imagery of death

and when he saw the bird, he petrified

knowing that's what he's been looking for all his life

there were just brushstrokes after that

and the bird no longer gets his feathers wet

if he flies around, he'll know the quill

cause he's the darkest bird that ever will exist

and for the man he stand stood on the desk

every night shining like the ocean in the moonlight

and his ink eddy plume

was never captured right

just like the bloody maroon eyes

but it doesn't matter, cause with all the shades

of navy blues and greys

he went from nevermore

to first in all time

and with layers of paint, he was eternalized

hi, I'm a 14 years old, brazilian that's really passionate about music and songwriting and I wanted to share what I do with someone to see if it's good, so I downloaded tumblr, this is my first time using it, don't know if I'm doing it right lol

anyways, this is a song I wrote about a bird, ill only send the lyrics because I dont sing very well yet and I'm really shy, maybe in the future, also english is not my first language, so apologies, hope you like it :)

[ravenstakeflight]

i will never know you.

you are my past.

but i will never know you.

my nose, my hair, my eyes-

they are yours.

but i will never know you.

i act like you, they tell me;

but i will never know you.

i try to remember:

the sound of your voice,

the curve of your smile,

the affection in your tone,

something. anything.

but i will never know you.

twelve years have gone by,

over a decade of a hole that i cannot fill

because i don't know what

who

would have filled it in the first place.

i will never know you.

and that, more than anything,

stays.

[crowandmoonwriting]

Unusual Character Associations

Thank you for tagging me, @moonluringfrost!

Rules: find the Associations of a Character with each Topic!

I'll do this with The Usurper from my WIP On Crimson Wings, because I am forever obsessed with him lol.

Seasoning: Herbes de Provence

Weather: a cold, silent winter night, snow slowly falling

Color: black

Sky: dark and filled with stars

Magical Power: invulnerability

House plant: Raven zamioculcas zamiifolia (goth plants bc he's goth lol)

Weapon: longsword

Subject: Poetry

Social Media: probably some obscure HEMA reddit forum lmao

Makeup Product: black eyeliner

Candy: chocolate with chili pepper

Fear: being alone

Ice cube shape: 💀

Method of long-distance travel: horse

Art Style: baroque painting (specifically Caravaggio's darkest work)

Mythological Creature: dökkálfar (dark elves from Norse myth)

Piece of Stationery: raven quill pen

Celestial Body: stars

I'm tagging (no pressure <3): @theimperiumchronicles, @spiced-wine-fic, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @i-can-even-burn-salad

[rosesloveletters]

Dear Reader.

What a tragedy it is to be cursed to feel, purging, verse by verse, the intravenous conviction with kisses of ink, dropped your weapon just to cradle me: pens are mightier than swords, indeed, because words are daggers, but prose is the flesh wound of fiction.

Locked away, chained to inspiration-less nights, before my name became a sign of something clandestine and manipulative, but I don’t take responsibility for what I write. It is a sickness, a lust for what is hidden within plain sight, so do not look for a bloodied reprieve; these violent hands will take what’s mine.

Parchment tears easier than skin, featherweight fingertips persistently spark the grin of self-righteousness and, fitted to your jawline, smear ink across your lips.  I’m starved for a storyline and clothed in decorative script, before I am stripped bare of syllables, forcibly undressed.

Cursive letters form the tightest knots and you’ll find that I am relentless when all I have are my own ravenous thoughts of you trapped in an insidious, inescapable plot  calligraphed by a delicate hand driven victoriously to simulate distress.

With a visceral longing to fill the page and rewrite the wrongs this shuddering, soiled soul so evil drove you to in the first place, out of misery or rage, I cut out my heart and locked it in a gilded cage, because I only flirt with death and make love to the devil.

Martyr.

My name is a constant reminder of that crisis of faith: stifled to save my soul in death and freed of iniquity and reminded that this material world was not meant for me. I reached into the word, not of God, and defined faithlessness.

That lily-white pallor is familiar on my face, but I’m not allowed to swear so I grit the petals in my teeth. One cannot know virtue without vice, let that sink in underneath the very flesh on my bones, a clear-cut example of His greatest work in progress.

I loved you so well that now I am so foolishly scathed by a brutish, violet, violent bruise, a blemish on my record, but the price I paid for redemption was far more than I could afford and I’ll be a private contender with God in the process.

In a perfect world, I would fall to my knees, permanently, heaven-saved, but this is my confessional, and my patience has run thin. I had one chance to get it right and I won’t make the same mistakes again. I’ll be a martyr for injecting a little life into this mess.

@jokerownsmysoul​ — I hope it’s alright to tag you. I believe we had a discussion about writing poetry that is inspired by the movie Quills and that I promised to let you know when/if I wrote any. This is me doing that 💜

[disclaimer: cloud divider created by firefly-graphics on tumblr. ]

[deathleadsarc]

✦ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

spice: Baharat weather: blizzards color: gold sky: deeply blue, rumbling black clouds in the distance shoe: barefoot house plant: snake plant, cacti weapon: alchemy subject: chemistry, poetry social media: N/A makeup product: rose oil candy: N/A fear: Lonliness ice cube shape: shattered method of long-distance travel: carriage/basker art style: art nouveau historical period: early medieval mythological creature: witch piece of stationery: raven feather quill three emojis: N/A celestial body: charon

stolen from @cantuscorvi

[isawhitney]

Musing

Come, Calliope, fill me up

To the brim of songstuff and

Mirth. You too, Melpomene,

Incite me to art. Strike me in the

Heart with your joyous gifts

And make me breathe poetry.

Erato, I’d like to love you, want

You to move me into balladic

Rhapsodies, to lusty chants,

And Clio - oh, throw off all

Your bloody quatrains, bestow

Them on me in battle so that I

May rage at the wine-dark sky.

Let Uralia cast aside her cumulus

Skirts and I will draw my quill

Across the dawn and write in

Scarlet ink. With Terpsichorean

Steps I’ll stride the spheres of

Sonnets, with Thalia I’ll slip

And try a pratfall in the grass.

Euterpe will chant with me

Of the oldest gods, of the

Raven hair of heroes, while

Polyhymnia sings of the deaths

Of kings and glory. O muses,

Daughters of the world, come

Let me fill my aching place of joy.