String On Road: Friday Fictioneer

Many thanks to our fairy blog-mother Rochelle for hosting this Challenge.


String On Road

Copyrights: Den of Dreams. Here’s my drawing of one of the three boys, Zya. (:

Three boys on abandoned streets, under sun,
Deserted streets, nothing on sight, just a string on road, a string alone.
“Must be the string of fate.” Said one,
“Nay, isn’t red.” Said another one,
“Might be a shoelace.” said another one,
They kept up their pace, and soon they were gone
In the deepest, darkest parts of streets— run,
They wanted to. But as they spun,
A dark shadow blocked them. Then begun
A futile fight. The shadow won.
A trace was left by the previous victim who never returned,
Stringed together by a string on road, a string alone.

Thank you for reading,

Warmest regards,

Dragon Warrior


Crimson’s Creative Challenge: The Forgotten Cottage

Thank you so much Crispina, for hosting this challenge.

copyrights: Crispina Kemp

The Forgotten Cottage

‘Twas a forgotten little cottage,

 In forgotten little forest.

A young plump guy, who didn’t know why

He was alone,

Stared at the house overgrown

With weeds.

He’d come following those strange reeds

That grew by the riverside,

Strange things he saw, animal hides,

Colourful pebbles, patterns on the ground,

And soon he was lost, for he didn’t know the way round

The forgotten little forest.

He stared at the forgotten little cottage

With fear-laden eyes.

He looked to the ground, he looked at the skies,

He called his friends loud, he chanted prayers,

But there was no-one, nobody to help him there.

But there was someone in the house who’d heard the boy cry,

And there from the house, out came the most peculiar guy,

“Come he said my dear,” said the man who was not touched by age,

And there went the young guy, right in the cage.

Copyrights: Dragon Warrior

Well, here’s something about the “young boy”. There he is, do you like the way he looks? So, this time, I’m trying to write a story with characters from different parts of Earth and he’s one of them. Thanks so much for reading, have a great day (:

Crimson’s Creative Challenge: The Forgotten Trail

Thank you so much Crimson for hosting this challenge.

The Forgotten Trail

~ a verse by Tatsuya

Hiking forth, I stumbled upon

A thin trail, left alone,

Twigs and weeds, grown all around

That scratch and I frown,

At the edgy ground,

Until I see a flight of stairs.

Small stairs, Stones stairs.

Who knows they lead to where,

And yet, to the unknown, I follow.

Dark and creepy, the stairs went,

To a place I never knew or came upon,

Fantastic beasts I met,

Fantastic places, a purple sun

And blue grass, and roaming stouts

I had come upon a land of great adventure,

But alas, I did not know a way out!

Unversed Prose: Poem by my 12 year old self

Today, while browsing a few diaries, I came upon a few poems written in 2017, by my 12 year old self. There aren’t that nice, but I decided to give my little self a chance. So here is a poem by hers, not a single word changed by me. (That time, I used to read a lot of classics, so it had a tint of olden days 🙂

Unversed Prose

O Great Scholar! Not a wise man as thou
Why then ask a fellow boy, write verse- form of prose?
Why make a flow confined in lines?
Why stake a blow of compelled rhyme?
Why divide theboundary-less, free moving words in narrow groups of fours?
Why then, asks a fellow boy write verse-form of prose

O Great Scholar! Not a wise man as thou
Can’t you see he inner beauty, of an unversed prose?
The lines are independent, wherever they roam,
Why burn with shiftingwords and turn them into foam?
The words that flow ever where, without limitor fear, why rules you impose?
Can’t you see the inner beauty, of an unversed prose?

O Great Scholar,! Not a wise man as thou
Can’t you see, verse goes with poetry, but not with prose?
Do you not realise,poetry is the free spirit which lives after death?
Do you not realise, verse is just the body who is left in the berth?
Why can’t you unite the body and soul, and remove the burden you force?
Can’t you see, verse goes with poetry, but not with prose?

Written from the perspective of a medieval prince, Dai, of Mhokaizi (spelled Ho-kai-zee) empire from Cygnet.