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rainbowfic2013-10-15 11:13 pm
ysabetwordsmith) wrote in rainbowfic2013-10-15 11:13 pm
Entry tags:
Poem: "Dreams of War and Peace"
Name: ysabetwordsmith
Title: "Dreams of War and Peace"
Story: Torn World
Characters: None named
Colors: Moonlight #19 Sidereal
Supplies and Styles: None
Word count: 138
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Warsailors sleep and dream.
Notes: Feedback is welcome.
The following poem belongs to the shared world of Torn World. This is science fantasy in a setting where temporal technology has had severe negative impacts. There are two main cultures, the snow-unicorn riders in the north and the Empire in the south.
"Dreams of War and Peace"
Ships sail the seas,
rocking on the saltwater waves,
traveling on through the darkness.
The helmsman keeps sidereal time,
tracking the positions of stars and ship and shore,
schedule always in mind.
Warsailors sleep in their hammocks,
swinging in the safe dark hold of the ship,
snoring the hours away.
The gentle motion is one
that many of them recall from childhood,
cradled in the shell of a harpoon snail.
They dream of war and peace,
the endless conflict between
sea monsters and landlubbers.
It is the warsailors who make the difference,
protecting the precious cargo in the hold,
tipping the scale toward safety.
In the morning they roll out of their hammocks,
leaving the webbing for the nightwatch about to turn in,
as the warsailors take their places on the daylit deck.
ysabetwordsmith Title: "Dreams of War and Peace"
Story: Torn World
Characters: None named
Colors: Moonlight #19 Sidereal
Supplies and Styles: None
Word count: 138
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Warsailors sleep and dream.
Notes: Feedback is welcome.
The following poem belongs to the shared world of Torn World. This is science fantasy in a setting where temporal technology has had severe negative impacts. There are two main cultures, the snow-unicorn riders in the north and the Empire in the south.
"Dreams of War and Peace"
Ships sail the seas,
rocking on the saltwater waves,
traveling on through the darkness.
The helmsman keeps sidereal time,
tracking the positions of stars and ship and shore,
schedule always in mind.
Warsailors sleep in their hammocks,
swinging in the safe dark hold of the ship,
snoring the hours away.
The gentle motion is one
that many of them recall from childhood,
cradled in the shell of a harpoon snail.
They dream of war and peace,
the endless conflict between
sea monsters and landlubbers.
It is the warsailors who make the difference,
protecting the precious cargo in the hold,
tipping the scale toward safety.
In the morning they roll out of their hammocks,
leaving the webbing for the nightwatch about to turn in,
as the warsailors take their places on the daylit deck.
no subject
Yay!
I've also written some other stuff that draws from that kind of poetic tradition. "Boil the Sea" is one good example.