End of the Year of Poetry

So, here it is the last post of my Year of Poetry. I’m kind of amazed I made it this far. A post a day, at least I know now that I’m capable of this, though I doubt I will ever try and do it again.

 

The poem for today, as I planned a year ago, is the same poem I started with, my Ars Poetica. A poem about Poetry. Bookending a full year with the same poem front and back.  I hope everyone enjoyed the poetry and the ride.

 

Thinking about what I’ll be doing next, my personal novel writing has still not progressed very far. I spent almost all my creative energy this year on my Dungeons and Dragons campaign, refining the homebrew world of Arista, fast-forwarding the timeline I presented far earlier in this blog, and most importantly, doing quite a bit of email role-playing.

 

Me and my players did a few different sets of e-mail chains, one of them was a year of downtime where they fell through time and space and did a reality and dimension hopping adventure. Some of them were short, boring , or uneventful but one of them was a massive 350 page practical novel. I want to share all of this writing on the internet (and I did get their permission) and I have been editing out any personal information and such. I’m not sure how I’ll organize everything, or how often I’ll post things, but I do think I’ll start with the shortest and least interesting bits, to give me time to edit up the monstrous sections. I hope everyone ends up enjoying this new plan of mine, and then I’ll figure something else out when that’s all done.

 

Happy New Years everyone, and I hope this next year is a good one for you all.

Ars Poetica by Chris McDaniel
… The World’s pulse
Beating in time
With our song,
Lyrics broken and beautiful

A howl into the void,
A whisper in my love’s ear
A confession upon your shoulder
A challenge to the broken world

Strip away your defenses and correctness
And dive naked into the boiling
Sea, scour the deep places
Of eternal cold and night.

Drag yourself onto a beach of bones,
under a river of stars,
steal their names and wear them
like a necklace of purple pearls,
give them to a newborn babe
while he is teething.

Climb atop the shoulders of giants
And stare into blank eyes,
Eyes which can’t see you,
And count the passing dust.

Dance with the spirits of the Earth,
Weep alongside ancient gods
And laugh amongst the demons

Speak a word to silence the crowd,
Speak again to draw out
The wailing and keening mass,
Speak thrice to glide
Into the place beyond grief.

Attach angel’s wings to a fly
And watch it sing,
Unearth shards of evil
Rooted deep in clay bones
And study their flinty edges,
Illuminate the gray lands we see
And wonder at their multi-hued mysteries

Let go and…

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End of the Year of Poetry

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