I Wrote A Poem!
I wrote a poem! I'd been wanting to work on my Character Cashew's background story, her entry into Carcosa. And as an added bonus I wrote it as a poem. What do you think? I don't have a title for it yet.
Alone in the forest,
Where she thought nothing dwelled.
She cries for her mother,
With her small hands upheld.
She’s only three years old,
Wrapped up in a basket.
Tears down her face,
Will this be her casket?
A rustle from the trees,
And her crying is ceased,
This small man flies down,
From the wind in the East.
He’s barely six inches,
With wings all aglow.
He flits around the child,
His face filled with woe.
The small child falls silent,
Her eyes big as the moon.
“Hush little one,”
The fairae man croons.
She’s taken away,
By six or so fairae,
Flown to their Hollow,
At the edge of a prairie.
The human girl grows,
About twenty years now,
She’s stayed in the Hollow,
Stayed where she had vow’d.
Now at the point,
Where she needed to wonder.
She packed up a sack,
Her heart all a sunder.
She left her Hollow,
And her fairae kin folk.
With a heavy heart she left,
Wrapped tight in her cloak.
She travels for days,
As she follows the coast.
Yet her home sweet Hollow,
She misses the most.
All of a sudden,
On the morning horizon.
A city of red,
Looking sullen and wizen.
She feels a small pull,
Through her torso it tugs.
Towards the city,
As if she was drugged.
Unable to turn,
Unable to run,
She wanted to scream,
But the city had won.
“Welcome to Carcosa!”
The gate man had cackled.
She tried to scream,
But the city just crackled.
Alone in the forest,
Where she thought nothing dwelled.
She cries for her mother,
With her small hands upheld.
She’s only three years old,
Wrapped up in a basket.
Tears down her face,
Will this be her casket?
A rustle from the trees,
And her crying is ceased,
This small man flies down,
From the wind in the East.
He’s barely six inches,
With wings all aglow.
He flits around the child,
His face filled with woe.
The small child falls silent,
Her eyes big as the moon.
“Hush little one,”
The fairae man croons.
She’s taken away,
By six or so fairae,
Flown to their Hollow,
At the edge of a prairie.
The human girl grows,
About twenty years now,
She’s stayed in the Hollow,
Stayed where she had vow’d.
Now at the point,
Where she needed to wonder.
She packed up a sack,
Her heart all a sunder.
She left her Hollow,
And her fairae kin folk.
With a heavy heart she left,
Wrapped tight in her cloak.
She travels for days,
As she follows the coast.
Yet her home sweet Hollow,
She misses the most.
All of a sudden,
On the morning horizon.
A city of red,
Looking sullen and wizen.
She feels a small pull,
Through her torso it tugs.
Towards the city,
As if she was drugged.
Unable to turn,
Unable to run,
She wanted to scream,
But the city had won.
“Welcome to Carcosa!”
The gate man had cackled.
She tried to scream,
But the city just crackled.