Poem of the Week: The Steeple of Dreams part I: The Call of the Steeple

The Steeple of Dreams part I: The Call of the Steeple
November 3, 2023

Legend has it that every seven years out of the Golden Sands
Of ‘Ard al-Qadir in Ti’Essaar, a most mythical land,
There rises an obelisk of gold and ivory from the desert ground
That emits waves of hope and glory that reach for miles around,

Diffusing visions into the minds of all with the courage and grit
To seek out greater things for themselves than what Fate has seen fit.
Many have been those, too, who’ve answered the call by setting forth
To the Golden Sands to seek this tower from the east, south, west, and north

And ascend to its very precipice to achieve that which the structure holds.
Alas, few have returned from their journey oh so treacherous and bold,
And all who’ve done so have with empty hands and deflated hearts
For not finding what their dreams had promised them from the very start.

Such tales are why many a nonbeliever in the legend exists today
And sees such treks as fruitless wastes of time, foolish in every way.
Still, the hope of the tale rings true through the masses year after year,
And the failures of those before them have yet to squash their faith dear.

In fact, ‘tis been seven years since this tower had risen from the sand,
And since then, a mighty demonic horde has surfaced to invade the land
And wage war against its mortal populace for reasons unknown,
Cutting, clawing, and gnawing many of many a race to the very bone.

It’s taken a collective effort, too, and countless resources to boot
To keep the mortal realm of Ti’Essaar from being reduced to soot
By the senseless violence that the demons have provoked upon their prey,
But at last, they’ve slunk back into the earth to spare for another day

The victors of the war they’d waged, who’re left with their nations drained
Of food and building and medical supplies in the wake of the pain
That the demons had wrought upon the land from border to border,
Which has hence turned many a living soul into a looter and a hoarder.

In fact, many has become the nation that’s turned hostile against
Its neighbors via disputes over territory and resources hence,
And the longer these resource battles have raged, the more fragile Ti’Essaar
Has become in the process far and wide, leaving a nasty scar

Upon the realm and among its people that runs deeper by the day,
Leaving its beleaguered citizens praying constantly in their own way.
As such, the time’s become more than ripe for the Steeple of Dreams
To call out to the intrepid before the realm falls further apart at the seams,

For surely the desperation of the times has spurred on those with the mettle
To challenge the state of things for themselves rather than lie down and settle
To suffer alongside everyone else whom the war against the netherworld
Has affected deeply. Then again, who knows just what shall next unfurl

When the call of the Steeple goes out and warriors from every nation
Close in on it to discover what lies atop it? Will there be elation
Upon the discovery of its treasure, or will the trip once more claim
The lives of many a dreaming fool who, in body and in soul, gets maimed?

Only time will tell, for many must be those who are willing to chance
Their lives and reputation on a legend not yet proven beyond mere romance.
Thus the Steeple rises from the Golden Sands to be heard and seen far and wide
And beckons once more heroes by the score to at last discover what’s inside.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
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                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part V: Afternoon Exercises

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part V: Afternoon Exercises
September 23, 2023

Corned beef, lettuce, and tomato on rye bread with radish chips and milk—
Not a bad lunch from his human hosts, Ignatius thought, given his ilk,
But just as he savored his last bits of it…Ba-DAA! The afternoon horn blared,
And a guard arrived to lead him to the yard, warning him, “Be prepared,

For Sir Bruce expects his adventurers to be nothing less than the best:
The fleetest of foot, the strongest of sword arm—you can surely guess the rest.”
Ignatius nodded, then squared his shoulders and marched alongside the guard,
Noting that they were alone in the hallway as they headed for the courtyard.

How that could be he could only guess, but an educated guess he could make.
He kept his concern to himself, however, for fear of feeding his take
To the stone-faced, halberd-toting man treading staunchly by his side,
And eventually, out of the fort they came with nowhere for Ignatius to hide

From the stern countenances of the human trainees who happened to peer his way
As they otherwise stood at attention ‘neath the waning sun of the autumn day.
Out of curiosity, Ignatius peeked to see if he could spot Philip’s face,
And lo and behold, there he was, front and center with a big smile in place.

Before Ignatius could smile back, though, and join the others in line,
His guard led him to stand before the class while an officer clad in fine
Regalia paced back and forth before the others and announced, “As promised, class,
You shall learn about when the moment for long-distance combat comes to pass.

Now, Ignatius here has kindly volunteered to represent the common foe,
And in this exercise, you’re to knock him down with your arrows just so.”
Ignatius’s eyes widened as the instructor made his announcement plain
And realized at last Sir Bruce’s treachery so guileful and inhumane.

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed as he was, however, his wits stayed with him the while,
And just as the trainer commanded his students to “Ready…aim…fire!” with style,
Ignatius darted off with as much a flash as his short legs would allow him to,
And he dodged the arrows the humans fired at him, tumbling the whole time through

With an agility he never knew he had, rolling and somersaulting left and right
As he dodged one arrow right after another ‘til the trainees gave up their plight
And adhered to the officer’s words as he said, “So you see how difficult, class,
It can be to strike down these cunning bastards? Truly a pain in the ass!

Now, though, set your bows down and draw your swords and see how they fight
Up close and personal. Ready now!” Then, a ghastly shade of white
Did Ignatius’s face grow even before he could catch his breath
As the students drew their swords and charged forth to stab him to death—

All but one, Ignatius saw, for he caught sight of Philip hanging back,
Sighing with his sword drawn as his eyes filled with sad reluctance to attack.
That was, of course, ‘til the instructor smacked him on the back of his poor head
And sent him to sink his sword into Ignatius to render him dead.

Ignatius, meanwhile, had his hands full enough with the trainees who came
Upon him swiftly, their blades at the ready as his hide they aimed to maim.
One by one, they set upon him, slashing at him as deftly as they could,
But when he drew his own sword and countered their cuts, it did them no good,

For with firm resolution and confidence in his own blade’s hardiness,
He swung it just so to disarm each foe, then for being the cause of his distress,
He tripped each swordsman and swordswoman and made them all fall flat
On their faces and keisters to the very last with an almost comical splat.

Then came Philip with his half-hearted rush, sword raised high above his head
As he brought it down towards Ignatius’s own as if to cut him down dead.
Ignatius saw the trepidation, though, in his friend’s eyes as he attacked
And quickly sidestepped his rush and tripped him, sending him down upon his back.

He then boldly approached the instructor whose face was twisted with disgust,
Pointed his sword at the fuming lout and proclaimed, “Pardon me, but I must
Ask what the meaning of this whole mess is before I turn you in.
The instructor merely stood there and fumed. “Spare me, goblin. You’ll never win.

We’re all onto what you’re up to being here amongst humankind
When your own lot’s been raiding our merchants left and right, front and behind,
And your spying on us shan’t do you good, so give up your precious plight
And go tell your breed that you’ve failed them in your mission. Alright?”

Ignatius let his sword rest by his side. “Who says I’m spying
Or representing my people as you say I am rather than trying
To simply find a better way to earn for my family our keep
In this world where our breed’s been labeled villains and has long and deep

Received your people’s ire? Do you really distrust me that much
That you’ll make me a target for my fellow trainees to throttle and such?
What must I do to earn your trust and prove that I’m moving on
With my life as I’ve long known it? After all, every wrong

My fellow goblins and I’ve made against you I can’t alone undo.
Tell me, then, what task I must undertake to earn the trust of you.”
The instructor merely narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin thoughtfully,
Then sighed as he admitted, “Alas, only Sir Bruce with that can help ye.

Don’t expect him to go easy on you, though, for his distrust is more than mine,
And he’s sure to find the harshest mission for you so that your green behind
Is forever lost to humankind. Go on, now! See him if you dare.”
Ignatius then sheathed his sword and strolled away, though continued to stare

Suspiciously at the instructor, even as the guard who’d brought him out
To the courtyard in the first place led him away, his armored and stout
Body swaying to and fro as he pointed his halberd at his unwanted guest
And made him march back to the fortress to see what mission was best

For the skills he’d just put on display, fending for his life against a slew
Of humans eager to cut him down plus one clearly less willing to.
Speaking of Philip, all he could do then was look after Ignatius
And wonder what fate awaited him, feeling like an ignoramus

For obeying his instructor’s orders and raising his sword against a friend,
Hoping that his sheepish obedience their friendship didn’t end.
Feeling obligated to mend things, then, he rushed forward towards the fort
To see what he could do to patch things up, no matter the sort

Of task he had to undertake to amend for his betrayal,
All the while hearing the instructor’s voice call after him in a wail
And demand he return to finish his training, but the bard heeded not his call,
For he knew in his gut he was destined to help the goblin through it all.

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part I: Coming Home from the Raid

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part II: Ignatius’s Journey West

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part III: Arrival at the Adventurers’ Guild

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part IV: Ignatius Meets the Guild Master

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Poem of the Week: A Treasure Not Meant for Human Hands to Hold

A Treasure Not Meant for Human Hands to Hold
July 8, 2023

Towering high ‘bove men’s heads like a spear piercing the sky,
Iv’ry walls unearthly clean, translucent jade roof on high,
Shining like a beacon ‘neath Heaven’s sun, yet what’s inside?
Such is what we ask ourselves as it gleams right ‘fore our eyes.

Rumors plenty have dispersed ‘mongst the ethers ‘round our land
Of this steeple that stands ‘fore our motley, fame-seeking band
Of how it appears but once ev’ry seventh year on the
Seventh day of the seventh month. Now that day’s come at hand,

And here we are in the middle of the desert unkind,
Staring up into its clear sky as hot, vicious winds wind
‘Round our bodies, spraying sand ‘gainst us from each direction,
Yet with our destination dead ahead, we dare not mind.

March we then toward the tower, anticipation strong,
Arrive we at its great door, knock on it, and ‘fore too long,
It creaks open slowly but surely and beckons us in.
Thus, we enter cautiously, fearing fate, should we step wrong.

Lively do we step, though, up each staircase we come across,
Dodging traps of devious design meant to turn to dross
The human form, as they had the corpses that rise to strike
Us down with their diseased claws, but we show them all who’s boss

With weapon and spell alike, conserving what strength we can
For the final fight ahead: a beast not yet felled by man
That stands atop the tower guarding its secrets from all
Brazen—like we—to seek them. Such suspense we cannot stand.

At last, though, the last battle with the tower’s guardian:
Slim in form, yet sinewy, maw wide open, fangs within
Glistening with venom thick. Its meal we are…so it thinks,
For we strike back hard and fast, and—though battered—we do win.

Now the treasure it’s been guarding is ours in full to claim.
Pick we, then, the lock on the grand oak chest and break its chains,
And with bloodied, shaking hands, open it we do to find…
Stained trousers, rank tunics, fetid socks, soiled briefs...how insane!

More insane, though, is the booming laughter we hear on high.
“So,” a voice rumbles, “my laundry you’ve come to wash and dry?
How thoughtful, so long as you use soap and hot water, then
Rinse it cold, fold it, and bring it back to this shrine on high.”

*Sigh*…all those miles we’ve traversed, hostile creatures we’ve bested,
Traps we’ve dodged, and so forth for fouled clothes some god’s divested?
I guess our elders were right: Some legends are too far-fetched
For but the foolhardiest in which to be invested.

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Bonus Poem of the Week: Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part IV: Ignatius Meets the Guild Master

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part IV: Ignatius Meets the Guild Master
July 2, 2023

The guards brought Ignatius and Phillip into the adventurers’ guild,
Long in hallway, limited in plush, and just as sturdy in build
On the inside as it was on the outside, brown stone walls and the like,
Yet the duo couldn’t drink it all in with their backs prodded by the guards’ pikes.

It took many twists and turns, too, before the duo at last arrived
At the guild master’s chambers, but once they did, the guards urged them inside
With a goading from their halberds, and soon the twosome came to face
A maroon-garbed man with a broad-brimmed hat shading his grizzled face

Bolting up from behind his grand oak desk upon seeing his two guests.
“What’s this?” he cried as he did so and brushed off his brown leather vest.
“Two schemers who claim they want to join,” said the one guard in sharp disgust,
“But as you can tell from the small one, we’ve reason to show them distrust.”

The guild master stepped out from behind his desk to take a closer look
At Phil and Ignatius as they stood by apprehensively like books
On a shelf, all rigid and gathering dust as the master read them up and down,
Then inquired, “Names?” before peering back at his guards with a concerned frown.

Phillip rattled his head and cleared his throat before answering, “I, good sir,
Am Phillip of Gracerock, minstrel by trade, and I mean to cause no stir
By bringing Ignatius here with me in my search for a quest.
In fact, I but learned just now that he’s a goblin, much to your men’s distress.

At the time, I but saw him as a fellow wanderer in search of a destiny,
And even now, unless we’ve all further proof, that is what he still is to me.
Kindly, then, grant us a chance to prove ourselves worthy of your establishment.”
“Young man,” asked the master, “have you no idea how many resources we’ve spent

In preventing goblin raids on merchant caravans rolling from one city to the next
Or how oft this city and its surrounding towns goblins continue to vex?
How do you know your companion here’s not scouting for his clan’s next assault,
Using someone with your heart to cover his tracks? Can you live with being at fault

For the next instance involving your own kind falling prey to goblin steel?”
“That’s the thing, Sir Bruce,” the other guard chirped. “Apparently, that’s not the deal.
Apparently, the goblin’s sworn that he’s fed up with his clan’s raiding ways
And wants to redeem himself via this guild to know more fruitful days.”

Sir Bruce turned back to Ignatius and inquired, “Little one, is that true?”
Ignatius stood as straight as he could and met his host’s gaze, piercing blue,
Then replied, “Yes, sir, and the tale I told your guards about me letting go
Of my days as a bandit is naught less than fact born from a tale of woe

Upon seeing many of my own comrades die trying to procure mundane goods
With which to support our own families and enrich our neighborhood.
I cannot undo what I and my kin have done in days past, but I can,
With your permission, be a credit to both our communities as a man

And improve my stature in this world ‘fore death has me move on to the next.”
Sir Bruce rubbed his bearded chin thoughtfully as he considered the complex
Circumstances that led his short green visitor to arrive at his guild,
Then replied, “You certainly sound sincere enough in expressing your will.

Granted, the tensions between our people and yours have been so severe
That my other agents will be reluctant to accept your presence here.
That, and the missions we’ll send you on may be quite grave, rewards aside,
But if you’ve the mettle to undertake them, we’ll gladly have you on our side.”

Ignatius bowed gratefully. “Thank you, sir! I appreciate the opportunity.
How about Phillip, too?” Sir Bruce looked the bard over, then answered, “We’ll see.
I’ve no doubt your friend here would like to explore regions less documented so that
He’s history to record, but we’ll need the right team to help him accomplish that.

In the meantime, we’ve drilling exercises for you, should you be prepared,
And should we see that you stack up against the others, we’ll send you where
Your talents would be of the best use.” He then turned to the guards and said,
“Take our small friend here to the barracks and grant him a place to rest his head.

The guards gaped at each other before turning back to the master. “Really, Sir Bruce?
You’re giving this menace the benefit of a doubt ‘fore he surely cooks your goose?”
“Indeed, I am!” Sir Bruce retorted. “Now, no more arguing! Step to it
And see that—Ignatius, correct?—is accustomed as I see fit.

Send him to his chambers as per my instructions and, shortly after, some food,
For he and Phillip here have surely travelled far and are hence in the mood
For something with which to fill their stomachs, and I dare not let hunger strike
Those whom I have on my payroll. Then, when the moment is right,

Sound the horns for the afternoon exercises so that they two
Can train alongside their new comrades before the day is through.
We’ll find out what to do with them after that. Now, though, do as I say.”
‘Twas then with a reluctant sigh that the guards went on their way

With the unwanted Ignatius in their charge as they headed back down the halls
And, after a while, arrived at the barracks with their cold gray walls—
Cold, but not more so than the guards’ demeanor as they led him to
His room at the end of the hallway with multiple cots and cubbies into

Which he and other residents could stash whatever supplies they’d brought.
“Get some rest,” the one guard ordered as he ushered him in, “for though we ought
To have you thrown in the king’s dungeon just for being what you are,
Sir Bruce sees something in you and just might want to see you go far.

In the meantime, luch’ll come your way soon, and once you’ve filled your face,
You’ll hear the horn for the afternoon’s exercises blare ‘round the face.
Follow the sound to the courtyard, and we’ll be sure to intercept you
To introduce you to the other trainees and the exercises we’ll put you through.

Just you sit tight in the meanwhile and enjoy—if you can—your stay.”
The two guards then left Ignatius to reflect on what’d so far been his first day
Among humankind, and if he knew no better, he’d have said he was blessed
To have been tolerated as far as he’d been, though he knew ‘twas but his first test,

For only heavens knew what awaited him following the afternoon horn.
Would the exercises be as forgiving as what he’d gone through that morn,
Or was the worst yet to come for him and his luck about to run out?
There was but one way to learn the truth, he believed: Wait for it to come about.

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part I: Coming Home from the Raid

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part II: Ignatius’s Journey West

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part III: Arrival at the Adventurers’ Guild

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part V: Afternoon Exercises

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk

Bonus Poem of the Week: Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part III: Arrival at the Adventurers’ Guild

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part III: Arrival at the Adventurers’ Guild
June 21, 2023

Ignatius and Phillip soon arrived at the human city called Sanctuary,
And upon passing through the gates, Ignatius gaped at the extraordinary
Structures he saw towering high above his hooded, knobby head,
Made of smooth stone of the palest gray waving banners of blue and red.

High and pointy were these towers’ roofs, which pierced the sky like spears
While sounds of hustling and bustling around the goblin echoed in his ears
As humans of all shapes and sizes strolled and worked along the streets,
And as they did, Ignatius did what he could to remain discreet,

Pulling his hood tight around his face to shield it from prying eyes
While Phillip marched forth down the road, then turned to say, “Come along, guy!
These folks have their own lives to worry about. They’ll mind us not, I swear.
Besides, the guild’s not that far from here. Let’s worry about getting there.”

Ignatius picked up his pace, then, to follow the bard’s long strides,
But not without letting the sights around him cross right before his eyes:
Marketeers calling out to customers to buy what they had for sale;
Peasants tending to their daily chores, performing them without fail;

Children playing games with each other and even with animals;
City guards standing staunchly at their posts, scanning for bull—
None of whom seemed to notice him, much less wonder who he was
Or why he was there, hence his sigh of relief as he strode on through the buzz

And kept close to Phillip until they both arrived at another gate
With a brown-stone fortress tucked far behind it, its towers tall and straight
While a huge track of land surrounded it from every angle for miles
And the two halberd-toting guards at the gate greeted the duo sans smiles.

“Name and purpose!” the left guard barked, his eyes narrowing hard on Phil,
And upon hearing the man’s harsh voice, Ignatius could feel his will
Eject from his body as his skin prickled and his ears perk ‘neath his hood.
Phillip, in contrast, stood up straight and like only a bard could

Peered right back and announced, “I’m Phillip of Gracerock, minstrel by trade,
Here with my companion Ignatius to help history be made
By joining your guild and venturing forth wherever adventure may be
And learning what lies beyond these city walls. May your chief, then, we see?”

The right guard said nothing the whole while but instead fixed his gaze
On Ignatius, staring deep into his hood as if peering through some haze,
Then reached out swiftly with his free hand and, before Ignatius could act,
Peeled back the hood to reveal his face, which promptly took the guard aback

And, with widened eyes and his polearm pointing at the face he’d just unveiled
With its bulbous yellow eyes, bulging nose, fang-riddled mouth, and green skin pale
With fright upon having his hosts recognize him, but not did Ignatius run,
For even though he wanted to, his legs stood firm as he stood ‘neath Heaven’s sun,

Swallowed hard, and stared back up at the guards, the one with his arm still aimed at him
While the other cuffed Phillip on the shoulder and demanding, “What kind of sick whim
Gave you reason to bring a goblin within this city’s walls? Have you no idea, bard,
The problems we’ve been having with their kind recently, or have you hit your head hard?”

“Please, sir!” Phillip pleaded. “I’d only the vaguest notion of my companion’s race.”
“Please!” the guard retorted. “As if his stature alone doesn’t make him seem out of place?
Either you’re playing patsy to this snot-skin’s scheme, whatever it might happen to be,
Or you’re in on the plot with him. ‘Tis one or the other. Tell us, then, which one it might be.”

Ignatius shook his head fiercely to clear it of the fog his mind had entered in a blink,
Then addressed the left guard, “Let him go, sir. I’m he o’er whom you’re throwing a stink.
‘Tis true I was a bandit as of yesterday, but I’ve come to realize the hard way
That such a life can only grant spoils for so long and ultimately doesn’t pay.”

The right guard scoffed. “A likely story. How do you expect us to believe it?”
It was upon hearing such a question that Ignatius stood up straight as the matter saw fit,
Peered into the guard’s eyes with the raw determination that now flooded his heart,
And told the man, “Give me the chance to prove myself to the guild to start.

Let it be up to the board to determine if I’m worthy to join the guild’s ranks
And quest in its name on behalf of those who rely on it and offer it thanks.
Let me lend my skills to whatever mission they entrust me with afterwards,
And let my friend here join as well to carry on translating history into words.”

The guards regarded each other with suspicion, muttering to each other with dread.
Then, after a while, the right guard pulled his halberd away from Ignatius’s head.
“Alright,” he conceded. “We’ll take you to the guild master, but mark my words:
One wrong move from you, and you’ll both have your hearts stuck to the tips of swords.”

The guards then ushered Ignatius and Phillip inside the fort mighty and brown,
Keeping their halberds at their backs, should either of them have gotten flighty,
While the pair held their hands in the air to prove to their hosts their cooperation
And Ignatius specifically breathed deep with the hope of soon elevating his station.

All he had to do was prove his worth to the guild master one way or another,
And he was sure that—even if only begrudgingly—he’d become a brother
Within the guild and could earn a nobler, stabler living in the end.
All he needed was courage, faith, and determination to see his goal ‘round the bend.

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part I: Coming Home from the Raid

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part II: Ignatius’s Journey West

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part IV: Ignatius Meets the Guild Master

Ignatius the Fed-Up Goblin part V: Afternoon Exercises

*****

Author Pages: Smashwords.com
                         Amazon.com
                         Amazon.co.uk