• About

An Author's Adventure

~ My Adventure as an Author

An Author's Adventure

Tag Archives: Poetry

Words Haiku

19 Tuesday Aug 2014

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Poetry, Sad, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Awesome, Beautiful, Blogs, Composer, Emotion, Emotions, Feelings, Literature, Poem, Poet, Poetry, Tears, Teen, Teenagers, Writer, Writers, Writing, Writing Advice

Words, words, words

Prose. Grammar. Sentence structure

Blogs. WordPress. Wattpad

 

So many things to remember

So many places to post

Yet am I doing it for the love?

 

The love of writing

The love of creating new worlds

The love of creating imagination

 

Some days I do

Some days I don’t

Some days it’s like torture

 

Straining for the next word

The next plot twist

The next rhyming pattern

 

I know my writing isn’t phenomenal

Often average at best

Writing poems that should be laid to rest.

 

I’ll never be famous

But if I turn a single frown upside down

I guess it would have been worth it

 

 

So dear Internet stranger

I bid you farewell

May my words be more than just that.

 

Words.

Advertisements

People Would Say

22 Thursday May 2014

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Art, Beautiful, Beauty, Brokenheart, Emotions, Feelings, Love, Love Story, Poet, Poetry, Puppy love, Romance, Romantic, Sad, SamboMoiz, Teen, Teenagers

People would say she is good looking.

I’d say she is breathtaking.

People would say she is just another person on a statistic.

I’d say that she invades my thoughts night and day.

People would say that her character is ordinary.

I’d say that her jokes make me laugh. Her mannerisms make me smile.

People would say that her passions are noble, but unrealistic.

I’d say that they inspire me to do more. To feel more.

People say that she is just another fish in the sea.

I’d say that she is the sea. Captivating. Mysterious. Exquisite.

People say that this is just puppy love.

I’d say that I don’t know. But whatever it is, I never want it to stop.

People say that you should hold back your feelings – “Wait till you’re older to have a relationship.”

I’d say ”How can one simply stop a tsunami?”

 

For that is what she has done to me.

She has crashed through my barriers.

Invaded my thoughts.

Maybe it is puppy love.

Maybe I should not be encouraging these feelings.

But to be honest, I don’t give a damn.

 

I just want to get to know her better.

I liked her far more than just a friend.

21 Wednesday May 2014

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Brokenheart, Love, Poet, Poetry, Romance, Romantic, Sad, SamboMoiz

Heart beating fast.

Memories of failures past.

Will I simply fail.

Or will I hopefully prevail.

 

The same question haunts me

The future, a scary open sea.

What will happen, I do not know.

But to fail to try is the foe.

 

And so I approach where she stands.

Her hair. Beautiful eyes. Soft hands.

My words freeze in my throat.

How can my words even begin to note

 

Her perfection. Her imperfection.

Both of which I love. Both of which have won my affection.

But at the end of the hour. At the end of the day.

I could use all the poetry in the world to simply say.

 

” I like you far more than just a friend.”

 

Love

20 Tuesday May 2014

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Brokenhearted, Girl, Love, Poetry, Romance, Sad, Writing

Love.

The smile that brightens your face when you see that you have a text from her.

Love.

The lump in your throat when she smiles and looks your way.

Love.

The way that her black wavy hair delicately brushes over her exposed shoulder.

Love.

The twinkle in her eye when she looks at you with some hidden joke.

Love.

The sound of her laugh reaching my ears like a bubbling brook watering a cracked desert.

The Pied Piper [Part 1]

05 Tuesday Nov 2013

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Fantasy, Horror, Poetry, Short Story, Writing

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

2013, An Author's Adventure, Art, Beauty, Bittersweet, Children, Composer of Words, Fantasy, Folk tales, Hamelin, Horror, Horror Poetry, Legends, Pied Piper, Pipe, Piper, Poem, Poetry, Rats, Sad, Scared, Scary, Writing

I was eleven years old when the Pied Piper arrived,

Strolling into Dunedin, New Zealand in May, 1923.

We had a infestation of rats, somehow he had derived,

Of which he could rid us of, for just a small fee.

A town council was called later on that day,

To discuss the situation that was now in our way.

The Pied Piper of Hamelin, many people claimed him to be.

The old legend that all fear, from the elderly to the youngest baby.

“We are living in the modern age”, many said.

“The old superstitions and legends are all but dead.”

We asked for a demonstration of how he would rid of us of the rat,

Three of which he gave, all very impressive, and that was that.

The mayor the signed the Pied Piper’s  contract,

With the handsome fee of thirty pounds.

The Pied Piper bowed low, like in a comical act,

His eyes glimmering in his sockets, like an evil clown’s.

He whipped out his pipe, and began to play he did,

Such hauntingly beautiful melodies, I have never heard again.

In the tune I heard a beautiful madness, that made me forbid,

Any thought or action that would go against its free rein.

I  stood there, helplessly mesmerized,

As swarms of rats poured out of the sewers and the alleyways.

The rats gathered at the piper’s feet, as if hypnotized,

And followed him out of town, in the direction of the bays.

The whole town celebrated with one another and rejoiced ,

For the rat infestation was no more.

Laughter and songs were everywhere, as our joy was voiced,

And every street became a dance floor.

Later that night, the Pied Piper returned,

To claim the money that he had so justly earned.

The mayor greeted him, with the money in hand,

Yet the Piper’s face twisted with rage, until you could see every sweat gland.

“This is not the amount that you agreed to pay me.”

The Piper shouted loudly, his eyes dancing with glee.

“The contract you signed, promised me 30 children… Not 30 pounds.”

“Here. Look at it yourself, in case you don’t believe what it sounds.”

The mayor and his advisors examined the lengthy contract for the next hour,

Refusing to believe that they had signed children over to such an evil power.

Yet, somehow, the contract had changed from whence they had first seen it.

Through magic or trickery, the contract had been modified with a flit.

Unable to go through with such a horrendous deed,

The mayor rallied the townspeople and they chased out the Pied Piper.

“We must guard our children from this evil.” the mayor decreed.

“From this demon. From this fiend. From this viper.”

” We must all keep our children safe and sound, under lock and key. ”

“For the Piper will surely return later in the night, to claim his fee.”

The townspeople discussed back and forth, until they all agreed.

And so it was, that every child was locked up safe, so the Piper would not succeed.

I still remember that night as if it was just the other day.

Every second passing by so slowly, that I feared I would waste away.

I waited, unable to sleep, locked in my room.

Wanting to hear that pipe again. To listen to my doom.

I do not know what hour of the night, the Pied Piper returned,

All I know is that I slowly began to hear a faint tune.

A melody grew louder and louder, until in my head it burned,

It’s notes mesmerising me, until I felt like a loon.

My arms and legs began to move in response,

As if commanded by the pipe’s eerie song.

I was a like puppet on a string, filled with nonchalance,

Dancing into its masters trap, headlong.

I watched as my legs rose beneath me and walked me to the bedroom door.

My hands tried to open it, but the door was locked of course.

A hole through the wooden door, my fingers began to bore.

Harder and harder my nails dug into the wood, with all of my body’s force.

Blood began to trickle down my hands as the wood splintered into my skin.

The splinters  began to sink deeper, separating finger nail from flesh.

I tried to cry out as the blinding pain washed over me, to even make a din.

However I was a spectator in my own body, as if my brain was separated by mesh.

Suddenly the melody changed, and my body responded in tow.

I watched as my legs walked me over to the nearby window.

My hands raised it up, and then to my shock and woe.

I jumped out of the window, to the hard ground meters below.

I landed badly, a large pop erupting from my broken knee.

Pain screamed through my body, into my mouth, yet nothing could I plea.

I looked around and saw other children, suffering the same torture as me.

Their faces like mine, white in terror, like a banshee.

We all frantically walked and crawled towards the origin of the pipe’s tune, as if we were hyper.

And out of the darkness of an alleyway, stepped out the Pied Piper.

Swarms of rats scurried around his feet,

Obeying the tune of the Piper in the street.

The Pied Piper turned and looked at us all,

To see what great lengths we had taken to answer his call.

His smile gleamed bright in the dark night,

As if he was relishing and celebrating in the sight.

If Roses were as Red as his Broken Heart, & If Violets were as Blue as her Bruised Face.

09 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Love, Poetry, Sad, Writing

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

2013, Abuse, Abusive relationship, An Author's Adventure, Art, Beauty, Bittersweet, Broken hearted, Bruised face, Composer of Words, Love, Love gone wrong, Love Poem, Love Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Relationships, Romance, Roses are red, Sad, True Love, Unhealthy relationships, Violets are blue, Writing

Man

If roses were as red,

As the colour of my bleeding broken heart,

Then maybe one day I could understand how,

She could have thrown away my love,

Like I was some spare part.

Woman

If violets were as blue,

As the colour of my bruised face and eye,

Then maybe one day I could understand why,

He says he loves me,

But still beats me up like I’m his bitch to cum by.

Image

The Man, The Marquis and the Lost Lover [Part 1]

09 Wednesday Oct 2013

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2013, Amour, An Author's Adventure, Art, Beauty, Butcher Knife, Composer of Words, Destiny, Devil, Devotion, Emotion, Fate, Fel Edorath, Lost Love, Lost Lover, Love, Love Poem, Love Poetry, Man, Marquis, Part 1, Passion, Passionate Love, Passionate Lovers, Poem, Poetry, Relish, Short Story, Soulmates, Story, True Love

On a fateful day,

In the month of May,

A strange man walked into town.

 

He walked straight up to me,

And asked if I knew the Marquis,

To which I replied “He died many years ago”.

 

Looking puzzled and confused,

He sat down and mused,

And I left him sitting there.

 

I returned the next morning,

And said to him “Good morning,

Why are you still sitting here?”

 

He recounted to me his tale,

Over quite a few pints of ale,

The story of him and his lost love.

 

Lorna, he told me, was her name,

Her beauty was that of great fame,

But alas she had many rich suitors.

 

Unphased, though, he remained,

And when he was finally alone with her, he proclaimed,

His undying love and affection for her.

For a few minutes, she said not a thing,

Until, unexpectedly, she gave him her ring,

Symbolising, she said, that she’d already given him her heart.

 

One thing led to another,

And they soon began to kiss and embrace each other,

For the love between the two was passionate and strong.

 

They made passionate love until the new sunrise,

After which, she told him, while looking into his eyes.

That the Marquis was her brother, and only surviving family member.

 

He was immediately shocked and scared for his life,

For the Marquis was nicknamed ‘The Butcher Knife’,

Due to being such a cruel and horrific man.

 

Rumour had it, that the Marquis made a pact with the Devil,

For in witnessing torture and pain, he would revel,

And all those who’d stood up to him would mysteriously die.

 

“You must talk to my brother, the Marquis” she implored,

“Tell him of our love, and surely he will be in accord,”

“And allow us to be married before Summer’s Solstice.”

 

Urged on by his lover’s ceaseless requests,

He finally worked up the courage, a few days later, to address,

Her brother, the Marquis, ‘The Butcher Knife’.

The Bittersweet Taste of Love

07 Monday Oct 2013

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2013, An Author's Adventure, Art, Beauty, Bittersweet, Brokenhearted, Composer of Words, Fel Edorath, Love, Love Poems, Love Poetry, Poetry, Romance, True Love, Writing

Your beauty is that of myths and legends,

So rare and precious that men would fight over you.

For you have become the essence of all things captivating,

In a way, only you could do.

 

You have stolen my attention,

Like a thief in the night.

And my knees grow weak,

Every time you enter my sight.

 

With eyes like jewels,

That lure my gaze.

Your skin so soft,

You never cease to amaze.

 

I find being with you is like a drug,

An emotional high that never descends.

Every time you glance or at me or give me a hug,

I want it to never end.

 

Your laugh like the rain,

A pleasant sound to my ears.

Yet I watch in fascination,

As you fill me with all the fear,

Of all the things I could wrong,

When you’re next to me, right here.

For I would pronounce my undying love for you,

If only you would hear.

 

But now as you have ignored me,

My day seems as black as night.

Your light is gone from my world,

Vanishing far away from my sight.

 

And yet I would cross the farthest ocean,

Just to be by your side,

To hear you say my name.

With me you could confide,

All your secrets, all your pain.

All your hurts you want to hide.

But alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

So here I will eternally bide,

On the other side of the farthest ocean,

Waiting for you to be here,

By my side.

Image

2. The Verdict (Part 1)

28 Saturday Sep 2013

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Fantasy, My Book, The Deluge, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2013, Adventure, An Author's Adventure, Art, Author, Awesome, Blogging, Blogs, Books, Chapter, Composer of Words, Fantasy, Fel Edorath, Fiction, Funny, Poetry, The Deluge, Top Stories, Writers, Writing

“Let me out. Now!”

The words rang out through the Conclave of the Sceptre. They echoed down dusty passageways and through dimly lit hallways. The words were coming from one of the rooms nearly at the top of the Forum. Those where the rooms where the noble and the famous were often accommodated in.

“Lady Abina. Please, stop yelling.” begged the little ystin

“Get away from me, you creep. Just you wait until my father hears about this. Then he’ll have you diced up and fed to his pets. Now, let me out” she paused, waiting for the fury little ystin to give in to her demands “NOW!”

“Please milady, please stop screaming. You have nothing to fear. We are not here to hurt you, rather we are here to protect you”

“Protect me from what? I got here all by myself, without a single injury, bruise or fight. And as soon as I enter this wretched city, I got seized and locked away in some dungeon, stuck with some bug looking creature.”

“Milady, this is no dungeon. This is one of the best rooms that the Forum of the Sceptre has to offer. You will want for nothing here. Your every need will be accommodated for.”

“Every need? Every single one of them” Lady Abina looked closely at the ystin, trying to discern if she was being lied to.

“Yes milady” replied the ystin with a great smile. Happy that he was finally getting somewhere this rash Imperial lady “Your every single need.”

“Good. Then let me out….. NOW!”

The ystin finally gave up. “ By the Watchers, I swear that you are a hopeless woman. Enjoy shouting at the top of your lungs with only you to hear.” And with that said, the ystin turned and walked to the locked door, it’s body leaning down on its two front claws while its four remaining legs shuffled behind. The ystin raised its claw and tapped the door. Twice. The door jerked open and a large karuuni stepped into sight, armoured and holding large spear. The lady Abina, scared of its size and appearance,  took a step back out of fear.

“Yes sir?” spoke the gruff karuuni, towering far above the ystin.

“She is all yours. I’m off to tell the Sceptre that they have no hope of cooperation from this  lady…” the ystin paused “Pah. Has the manners of a gutter woman if you ask me.”

The feathery karuuni stood to attention as the ystin walked away and then proceeded to slam the great oak door closed. What sounded like a bolt, was placed across the door, causing a small screech to be emitted from the rubbing of the oak door. And then there was silence.

Lady Abina, no longer having anyone to scream at, walked over to the bed lying in the corner of the room. She sat down, and  let out a heavy sigh.

Now what, she thought to herself.

How do I get out of here?

A heavy silence overcame the room, one that would not be interrupted by anything trying to make noise. And as Lady Albina lay on her bed, desperately trying to form an escape plan, the silence lulled her into a deep sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many people would say that a problem shared is a problem halved. However today, Lord Elushsir, Head Chairman of the Sceptre, would disagree. Today was the tenth Forumday since the summer solstice and tradition dictated that on any Forumday, anyone could present a case to the Sceptre as long as the case involved the people of Rudain as a whole. So far, the spice merchants had put forth their case, asking for more protection to be granted by the Sceptre, as their caravans were often falling prey to bandits and Aluyca Imperials. The fisherman and farmers of the coast had  presented their case, reporting that their land was slowly being taken over the sea – which no one believed. And the head of the Sacellum of Ichohn was about to present his case, asking for military backing in his hunt to burn and kill Murkilid cultists.

Lord Elushir let out a sigh, rubbing his temple between his fingers. Murkilid cultists having nothing to do with the affairs of the Sceptre, he thought. Deal with th-.

“My Lords of the Sceptre” someone called out from the crowd surrounding the Forum podium, interrupting Lord Elushir’s self musings.”We have an important case for the Sceptre that needs to be addressed immediately”.

The owner of the voice came into view as he finally reached the front of the crowd. He was an old karuuni dressed in the garb of the Seaside Watch, his once large and powerful body worn down through the countless solstices he had seen.

The representative of the Ichohnites, disgusted at the thought of his case being postponed, was quick to respond. “My Lords of the Sceptre” he rebutted “Surely the matters of the Sacellum of Ichohn are far more important than that of the less-than-honourable Seaside Watch.”

The representative paused as if waiting for a rebuttal, but receiving none, he continued. “So, as I was say-”

“You would be wise to heed your words, Ichohnite.” boomed Lord Elushir, his voice silencing all those whispering in the crowd. “The Seaside Watch carry out an honourable duty, one which the safety and security of Rudain relies on. If, you do not believe so, perhaps we could arrange for you to join their ranks. Maybe then you would be convinced of their importance and honour.”

The Ichohnite representative stepped forth aggressively – his eyes flared in outrage. “Never has a humble servant of Ichohn been treated so….With such contempt” he yelled.

“And maybe it was about time that someone did then” replied Lord Elushir.

Upon hearing this, the crowd burst into fits of laughter and giggles. Even a smile leaked onto Lord Elushir’s face as the Ichohnite representative stomped off the podium, his face bright red from embarrassment.

“Quiet!” roared Lord Gaelin of the Sceptre, smashing his wooden gavel down repeatedly on the desk in front of him. The crowd fell silent, none of them wanting to be singled out by Lord Gaelin, for he had a reputation for conscripting those that did not obey him. Lord Elushir, quite unimpressed by the Lord Gaelin’s behaviour, looked back to the old karuuni who had silently remained standing there since he had first arrived.

“Present to us your case.”

The Man who Procrastinated

18 Monday Mar 2013

Posted by Sambo Moiz in Poetry, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

An Author's Adventure, Composer of Words, Fel Edorath, Poem, Poetry, Procrastinate, Procrastinated, Procrastination, The Man who Procrastinated, Writing

There once was a man.

Who had a terribly short attention span,

Due to never wanting to work.

He would procrastinate

because he didn’t like the stress,

of having to overcome the anxiety

of all the work he had to address.

Yet everyday, the more he procrastinated,

The more he felt self-discriminated.

By his own laziness.

By his own guilt.

And so he wallowed in self pity,

Everyday feeling really shitty.

As he could never manage to stop the cycle

That was making his life so frightful.

The more he avoided his work,

The more stressed he became.

And due to getting ever-increasingly stressed,

He would ever-increasingly avoid his work.

And then the man died, unfufilled and full of wasted potential.

The End

Follow An Author's Adventure on WordPress.com

If you enjoyed this, please click to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 73 other followers

Recent Posts

  • The Origins of Kalista, The Spear of Vengeance
  • Words Haiku
  • Procrastinative Haiku
  • Enemies and War
  • Is It Worth It?

Blogroll

  • Blogger Blogger
  • Facebook Facebook
  • Reddit Reddit
  • Tumblr Tumblr

Top Posts & Pages

  • The Origins of Kalista, The Spear of Vengeance

Blog Stats

  • 1,012 hits

Archives

  • November 2014
  • August 2014
  • May 2014
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013

Categories

  • Faith
  • Fan Fiction
  • Fantasy
  • Horror
  • Love
  • My Book
  • Poetry
  • Romance
  • Sad
  • Short Story
  • The Deluge
  • Uncategorized
  • Writing
  • Writing Advice

Liebster Award

Nominated October 10, 2013

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries RSS
  • Comments RSS
  • WordPress.com

Faith Fan Fiction Fantasy Horror Love My Book Poetry Romance Sad Short Story The Deluge Uncategorized Writing Writing Advice
Advertisements

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 73 other followers

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy