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oiling old bones



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Thu Apr 14, 2022 11:16 pm
tinny says...



14.

You held a promise;
What we could do together
an offer of becoming something more
than the sum of my singular parts,
so I welcomed you in
and you swallowed me whole.

A breathless voice that speaks
to drive forwards pushes harder,
strip the laughter from my lungs
a frivolity when there is still
so much work to be done.

Who am I even speaking to?
as if there exists a line,
as if there ever had been
a time before that feels
little more than a dream lost
at the breaking dawn.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Fri Apr 15, 2022 2:42 pm
tinny says...



15.


In another life they find me,
hiding in some rat-spit cave
with bloody fingernails
and beard hanging down
to even bloodier knees.

They've been searching;
I am The Abomination.
No name required, it's been
decades since I had one
that was anything but a jibe.

Bright sharp steel helf aloft
catches sunlight, blinding;
impossible to shield against
the burning eye of Andraste
come for me at last.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Sun Apr 17, 2022 5:52 pm
tinny says...



16.

I say that there's separation
only in death, but in truth
I hate to lose the fire
of your conviction.
Perhaps it's for the best
that the invitations stop,
no longer kept a seat
for drinks and diamondback.
The distance a blessing,
keeps at arms length
what rolls hot destruction.
Makes it easier when it comes
time to sit and beg for mercy,
for hope to be swift when
it stabs me in the back
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Mon Apr 18, 2022 11:52 am
tinny says...



17.

The first time milk curdled at my fingers
I blamed my brother, asked how he could fail
at the delicate task of eking if from flesh to flagon
so completely.

This was in the old country, when I'd wake early
to bake bread while the sun proofed into new day.
The saying goes cold hands, warm heart, but
what does it mean about my own ticking drum
that I have hands which melt pastry to ruin,
are only be trusted with the most pliant dough.

Later, I tried to make that warmth a way to mend,
soothe against the will of nature, to offer
comfort
earn some mercy in the eyes of my creator.
Each time I offered a hand you refused
and I could not blame you; afraid to burn and be burnt.
what does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?
I wish I knew.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Thu Apr 21, 2022 7:36 pm
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tinny says...



18.

The city removes a foreign body trapped beneath its skin
the same as any other wound; with force.
Pushed into the darkest belly of town
and should that darkness take them
it's one less mouth to snatch soften fruit
from market-stalls bleached bone by the sun.

A foreign body has its uses, though.
the furnace will always need more flesh,
more blood to grease the wheels of the machine
grease palms for the trading of silver for soul.
Tithe is needed by the pound for work that pays coin
and is given til there are only bones cast to the waking sea.

Yet without hesitation they would take arms
and give limbs both beneath the lantern
that protects the bloodiest hands. His hands,
the pair that mends bones and brings their children forth
beneath blue light. The only charity that offers comfort
in this city of chains.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Thu Apr 21, 2022 7:36 pm
tinny says...



19.

Decide it over wicked grace.
Wager a sovereign
wager a crown,
wager whichever gold
is softer between fingers
and pray your king
is less easy to bend.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Fri Apr 22, 2022 11:32 am
tinny says...



20.

One morning I woke and you were gone.

Neither of us realising that the eve before
had been the last of our time spent intertwined,
laughing as you spoke of apprentice misfires;
young boys turned toad, an elf's braids set alight.
All accidental, of course, they'd insist
while you'd bite your tongue to still your smile.

I think that moment,
my head in your lap watching you laugh
and tell stories, face full of light
before you bent down and kissed me
was the happiest I had ever been and will be again.

I missed you at breakfast.
I missed you in the bright corner of the library
where we'd meet beneath the noonday sun
each day to exchange books and trade touch.
It was only when I found your room stripped,
empty of that warmth you'd filled now cold stone
that they told me; taken overnight
sent to some distant circle over the sea.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Fri Apr 22, 2022 11:35 am
tinny says...



21. This one is a fanpoem for specific fanfiction. Getting hella meta here

I would drown us in blood
to keep you safe

but you beat me to it.
Sink below the surface,
stone in a sea red
of your own making
all gleefully spat and spilled
from a cup run over dry.

I see your face
beneath the waves,
broken reflection that stares
towards the sun.
An image whole
only in its parts
impossible to hold
in even bloodier hands.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Fri Apr 22, 2022 8:15 pm
tinny says...



22. Based on the end of Act 3, so spoilers if you've not played this decade-old game I guess

There's a bounty placed on every head that dreams
of other places, feels the slick sheen
of another side in the small hairs at their skin.
Coin is paid upon severance for gold thread,
whether ripped from frayed robe trim
or cut away braided still fresh, wet, warm.
Whether there’s a deal with a devil or not
all contracts are void.
The right to annulment executed
without prejudice by the Maker’s heavy hand.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Sat Apr 23, 2022 9:54 pm
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alliyah says...



Wow you've got some very vivid imagery in these - like in poem 18,21,22. I think it's great that a video game could inspire so much emotion and poetry - that's actually pretty neat. You're doing a great job keeping up with the month too and are definitely on your way to hitting 30 by the end of the month - good job! I know how hard that can be! :D

I also like that you're trying some different stanza / line lengths throughout the way too. I think poem 09 is my favorite - I don't know if you were going for a inventor and robot or God and creation vibe but I liked the imagery you used for it a lot and thought it could definitely take on a spiritual sense.

Best of luck in the final week of NaPo tinny! Happy writing!
you should know i am a time traveler &
there is no season as achingly temporary as now
but i have promised to return
  





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Mon Apr 25, 2022 9:17 am
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tinny says...



Ty Iliyah! I had been hoping that some of these could have some value for folks that have absolutely no context of the game!!!
Last edited by tinny on Mon Apr 25, 2022 9:23 am, edited 1 time in total.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Mon Apr 25, 2022 9:22 am
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tinny says...



23.

The rumour was your hair had greyed
during some harrowing dream,
That you woke peppered salt with fright
and had never been the same.

You captured me over potions
when you passed me dried herbs,
warm hand between my shoulders
the kindest touch I'd known after
twelve straight months locked away
in stone. Reputation proceeded me
you said with a wink, asked how long
you should bet before I'd next flee.

Midnight behind bookshelves is when
smuggled brandy tastes sweetest,
fire sipped straight from a bottle
the same amber as your eyes,
just as good to drink down deep.
I found my mouth on your face,
found your hands in my hair and
your tongue filling the quiet space
between us.

In my arms, after, you laughed,
said the grey was the luck of poor parentage
fated to age before your time.
I liked it, fine silver like a slice
of liquid moonlight in my fingers
just as captivating, a small heart hoping
you were as bewitched by this as I.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Mon Apr 25, 2022 9:23 am
tinny says...



24.

I never saw your face wear such fear
until that moment we faced his.
Ghost haunted by its own dark spectre,
years trapped by a long dark shadow
snapping at your heels, now grinning
as he walks downstairs to greet us.

You told me once, over dark wine by the fireplace
about the dream that stalked you
night after night. This moment, now:
demanding your return, to break your spirit twice over.
In your sleep there is no hesitation
no remorse as I turn over pet to master.

For a moment I saw it in your eyes,
fear that waking I might do the same.
Distrust sharp as pointed steel between my ribs,
I wish I had been the one to rip out
that bastard's heart, if only to prove
how completely you gripped mine.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Tue Apr 26, 2022 8:27 am
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tinny says...



25. One character is a dwarf that has never been to the surface before now, this is some Origins-era stuff


When I asked you what
the stars were, you laughed.
Took a moment to realign
the roast split over campfire,
a small feast for the lost pair
shot down by nimble hands.

shit, wait, you're serious

You always forgot it was
a new ceiling in the sky.
You told the stories of stars
while we ate, they seemed
anchored to shapes all wrong
that sounded make believe,

but reminded me of fairy tales
I'd read on the road.
In low light, on watch,
listening for the snap of twigs
and the rise and fall
of your breath.

No princess to rescue
from dragons hoard
or tower locked tight.
Would we end up a story
written in the stars?
Two last hopeless wardens
scrambling to stop a blight.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Wed Apr 27, 2022 4:23 pm
tinny says...



26.

Better to be thought the dog
that bites an outstretched hand
than find yourself a pet,
kept again with collar tight
fresh noose around the neck.

Sharp by blade and claw,
what wants a wolf more
than to sink teeth into a
delicacy, sweet? Muscled knot
the size and weight of a fist.

Still, how strange it was,
this clip winged bird of prey
the only one to meet his face
and see not some beast but
the man broken, aching beneath.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  








Half the work that is done in this world is to make things appear what they are not.
— Elias Root Beadle