1. Taking ManehattanView OnlineA Poetry Anthology1. Taking ManehattanLooking into windows, Looking into faces, Looking for I know not what. Searching for meaning in all of this madness — The whirligig bustle of Manehattan Central Is spinning me like a leaf in a stream. I try to keep my head up, I try to stay afloat; To be kind and generous, to be true to what I hope Everypony is, on the inside. I am spun from sleep to work to sleep again From catwalk to office to workshop A few snatched minutes and back once more — I swear I’ll go until I drop. Hoping that this will all be worth it; Hoping I can live my dream; Hoping somepony can tell me What all of this might mean. I’m alone in the fight; I’ve never been so alone So isolated from you all. But I’m clinging to this cliff, My friends — I will not let myself fall. So one more stitch, one more cut, Just one more until I’m done. I can tell myself that, until it’s morning And time for my next supply run. It seems eons since I have seen you Since I have held your hoof in mine; It seems years since we have relaxed together Oh, darling, how I long to unwind. But all of this will be worth it — Though I feel about to drop. All of this will be worth it, Which is why I will not stop. And you’re due in on the next train; You’ve come to see me shine — So I’m looking into windows and into faces Which carriage holds the little ponies that are mine? There! The gleaming rainbow of your tail, your wide and smirking grin, Followed by your pink bouncing gait, and you, the frazzled lilac mare— Your shy and sweet ‘hello’, whispered from behind your mane, and that battered old brown hat of yours, that one you always wear—! Oh, just let me hold you! Oh, my dears, welcome, one and all! My friends, how I have missed you! Oh, nothing can compare! What fun we shall have, now you are here at last — Though of course, I have to work. But I’ve got you tickets to the latest show— And I’ll join you soon — I promise, this play will drive you wild — No, really, of course you must go — And I’ll come, I will…just as soon as my work is done, my orders filed. Go on, darlings, really, go, I truly have to work…I’ll miss you all, I will, I will— But really, I must work. Author's Note Inspired by Rarity's 'Taking Manhattan' episode. Some bonus art I did a few months ago.
2. The Return of HarmonyView OnlineA Poetry Anthology2. The Return of HarmonyI’ve nowhere left to go I’ve got nowhere left to run. I’m all out of ideas, and I fear that Discord’s won. I’ve taken every turn, Gone down every track, I’ve tried every avenue But none seem to lead me back. Back to the exit, back to my friends Back to real life, where this nightmare ends. My hooves are bloody But the maze is unending My breath is short But in vain I’m sending Purple sparks shooting up Distress signals into the night — Magic bursts from my horn But nopony answers my light. The trickster has trapped us, the labyrinth enwraps us Tight in his choking embrace. My hooves are all blisters, but oh, where are my sisters? The ponies he has stolen from me? He took our wings and our magic, then both were returned — What can I do against magic like this? He has the power of a deity, and demands we swear fealty — Even my Princess cannot help me now. A surge of wild hope, as I see my friends before me, As Discord pouts and warns, “Don’t bore me,” But hope turns to horror as these are not the friends I know and treasure; Their colours are fled, their spark removed for his pleasure, Only pale mockeries where once their cutie marks lay. All hope fades, all is lost Equestria will be conquered And at what cost? Until I remember in a spark of inspiration All I need to do is use my imagination And find a way into their hearts. “Remember,” I tell them, hope flaring bright, “Remember when we met, that very first sight. You were loyal and brave, honest and true, Kind and generous, and laughter lived in you.” Their colours return in a rainbow flood, The enemy is stoned, and all is good. Author's Note Inspired by Twilight in 'Return of Harmony'. Now with extra art inspired directly by the poem, drawn by the lovely Snow Quill over on Derpibooru: View on Derpibooru - Original source
4. The unknowable mareView OnlineA Poetry Anthology4. The unknowable mareMystery…surrounds me. It ensnares and enshrouds me. The night is dark, unknowable, deep, The night prowls silent while ponies sleep, The night… I long for touch, for love to keep. I am lonely. So lonely. Nopony seems to want to know me. They throng to the light and to the daytime, To heady summer days and yellow sunshine, And not a single pony questions the paradigm. They love her, they worship her Her white wings, her mane, her power; And my stars are thrown by the wayside And I too am discarded and tossed aside, And the rage fills me, and crawls and writhes inside — I love her, but I hate her And I long to control her To rip and tear and rend her Maybe that would end my distemper— If I could smash and bite and dismember. The darkness is growing, I can feel its power showing, My fur dims to black, my pupils slitted And against my own elder sister I am pitted And I won’t stop until she has submitted — My Nightmares will force the world to dream And it is my moon ascendent that shall reign supreme; After all, why bother with Princess, when I could be Queen? Author's Note Inspired by Luna's thoughts before her transformation, and accompanied by the traditional bonus art from my deviantart on the same theme.
6. The Wife: An Eldritch HorrorView OnlineA Poetry Anthology6. The Wife: An Eldritch Horror"I can't stay out late," said Big Mac, "The Wife hates it when I don't come back Right on time for tea." "I'm afraid I can't," said Troubleshoes, "The Wife would absolutely lose Her head if I stayed out late without warning her." "Another time," said Thunderlane, face dead and blank, "The Wife would simply have my flank If I didn't bring her these flowers on time." "It's our anniversary, you know," They drone as one, eyes aglow, "The Wife loves us, every one - She'll love you too; would you like to come?" Author's Note When old men discuss The Wife and what she will and won't allow him to do...what if they're all the same Wife? And what if The Wife is Chrysalis?
7. Celestia's PastimesView OnlineA Poetry Anthology7. Celestia's PastimesCelestia knew it was not nice To manipulate ponies for her own ends. Their genetics, their abilities, Their magic and capabilities. Celestia knew she should not splice DNA strand and string; it was not the right way to make friends. Yet to Celestia what other choice remained? Her sister banished to the moon was too much to bear. Twisted and stolen, corrupted and broken, Her magic dark and her vile hatred spoken. So Celestia tinkered and bred and grafted and maimed To find the bearers who would tame the Nightmare.
8. The changeling who dared to loveView OnlineA Poetry Anthology8. The changeling who dared to loveI'm watching from the corner and I'm waiting I listen for the whispers of Her hating The ones She wants to live, to die I obey, and still, I try — All I want is to save you All I want is to protect you So listen to me, listen, listen, Listen, and run. We colour the sky black and we are swarming We're descending from above without warning We do as She commands, and though I want to try, and fight, I know — I can only do as I am bid And to kill your kin I am bid Listen to the screams, listen, listen, Listen, and run. The song of the Hive it is within me And not a drop of water but a flood are we The rush of the chase, the thrill The hunt, the shrieks, and then the kill — It's almost enough to consume me But their panicked cries still move me And I listen, Hive help me, I listen, listen, Listen, and I watch them run. My wings are buzzing now without my say-so The Queen wills it and I can't say no Drops of blood arc through the air And my fangs flash, and rend, and tear — Is it your flesh on my tongue Every sense screams this is wrong But I listen, I have to listen, listen, Listen, and pray you can run. Your eyes were sky-blue and your smile was kind You saw so much but love made you blind I was a monster and you bought my lies You trusted me, and now, the skies — Black on blue — black like a bruise Like the ones I leave on your neck — like abuse — Listen to me, listen, listen, Listen, and run. The battle is raging and the fire is rising Emotion flares from the dying and heaven help me, it's appetising Their lives are in my hooves but I don't The chitin is stained, and please, I won't — Resistance is futile, submission divine But what I would give to save the one I call mine Listen to me, I told you, listen, listen, Listen, and run. But there like a nightmare through the smoke The colours of your mane; for a second I hope Can you outrun my brothers and sisters Can you fight back, can you resist us — But my wings are swift, and no, oh no I'm landing hard, and no, oh no I see it in your eyes that you know me Beneath the exoskeleton and the fins still you know me My Queen, please, relent, forgive I've given all that I can give Don't make me, please don't make me —Resistance? My little drone, what is this? A pony, just a pony, oh please, let her live —Equestria has wronged me and I do not forgive. And you are Queen and I am not You will endure while I will rot I love her, oh I love her Though I only fully understand it now But Your will is implacable and I must bow And And my hooves come Down Crack! Crack! Crack! Blood spatters on my face and I am crying I wish that it was me who lay dying I'd have given my life for you I did all a drone could do — I wanted to protect you And I tried so hard to save you And you listened, you listened, You listened, and you ran. I'm cradling you close and I am weeping Through the holes in my legs the blood is seeping The Queen demands — Arise! Fight! But, suddenly, it all seems...trite. Now I lie in my bed of gore I don’t have to listen to Her anymore I won't listen, can't listen — Won't listen, won't run. Something changes inside me and now I'm glowing Over my ruined hide colours they are flowing My hivemates stop and stare, aghast As I become the one thing, at last You would have wanted for me; I look at your broken face, and finally, my love, I'm free.
9. Raven Inkwell to CelestiaView OnlineA Poetry Anthology9. Raven Inkwell to CelestiaOh Princess, are you out there? Princess, I can’t bear The feeling that you’re not with me A lonely worker with no queen bee. Oh Princess, won’t you help me? Princess, can’t you see That the walls are closing in from every side And I’m drowning in this rising tide. Oh Princess, won’t you come back home? Princess, I can’t be alone Princess, please don’t leave me Please please please don’t leave me I can’t — I’m just a secretary I can’t — I just — I need you with me — Author's Note Raven Inkwell loses it after Celestia's untimely death
10. The Midnight Tree: A Nightmare Night BalladeView OnlineA Poetry Anthology10. The Midnight Tree: A Nightmare Night BalladeI. Alone with the stars and the cool night air Soft through the dark crept a filly so blue, Wishing for something, for a world that was fair — Her mood matched her mane, both the same hue. The grass was silver with star-speckles of dew Reflecting the night sky, the fruit of her toil; And the tear on her cheek, well, that glimmered too, As it fell to the earth to soak into the soil. II. But the tear, where it fell, the mark of despair, Gave rise to something — something quite new. Up from the ground, as she stopped weeping to stare Came the tiniest sprout, and she watched as it grew. The stem sprouted a leaf, which soon became two, And the filly watched the green sapling uncoil. It was tall as her knee, as her horn, filling her view, And the earth with its roots began to bubble and roil. III. “What’s happening?” she asked, though no one was there And that no one would answer, she already knew. Just her and the tree, a strange mismatched pair — But she spread her wings anyway, and up they both flew. The tree was a giant of the forest, beyond all compare And the filly she watched it with eyes wide and afraid; “I didn’t know that this was something I could do.” But there was no answer from the tree she had made. IV. And when growth ceased ‘neath the moon’s silvery glare The filly rested in the boughs of the forest’s denizen most new. “I wish I had friends,” she said, and in her voice pain was laid bare, "That they’d love me as well as Tia, even if it was only a few.” The tree gave no response; it possessed no point of view, And the filly’s face fell as her hopes of companionship were betrayed. “Maybe,” she snarled, “They’ll love me if I stage a coup. If Tia was gone…then I’d have to be obeyed.” V. But then she shook her head; “No, I suppose I don’t dare; She’s far stronger than me, I know that much is true. And I love her, I guess — I suppose I do care But I still sometimes wish I wore the golden horseshoe.” The wind whispered through the branches, as though to say, You? And the princess snarled: “I could be Queen, it could be fated!” With a flash of light she was gone, and the tree couldn’t pursue And it was alone as she had been, before it was created. VI. Years passed, centuries passed, and yet still it stood there; Weathered and bent, but still the great yewtree grew. A new shadow was on the moon — if it was fair or unfair The tree did not know, and it could not construe. The mare in the moon did not move, did not stew On the injustices done her by the sister she hated. But the tree, if trees could, might have wondered if too She would regret it as much as the sister who waited. VII. And after a millenium had passed, again came the melancholy mare And in her mane starlight shone, galaxies born anew. As she walked to the tree unseen wind stirred her hair And as she reached its side, her friend old and true — — Her horn glowed, the moon rose, and she watched it through The leaves and the branches of the tree she had cried And she thought of her sister fighting alone to be the glue Keeping their kingdom whole after she had all but died. “She waited like you did,” said the mare to the yew Which stood tactiturn and sentinel, a silent old guide. “I asked her how she did it, and she said she just knew That I’d come home and rule again at her side. If I were patient like her, like a tree, perhaps I’d have seen That it’s better to be two princesses than just a single queen.” Author's Note This poem is a bit longer than the traditional 28-line ballade, but it follows the traditional rhyme scheme of ABABBCBC for the first five verses, before finishing on the required ABABBCBC/BCBC. Usually when I write poems it's more freeform, so it was fun to try a specific structure and do something more regimented. It took a lot longer to do though!
11. To be a treeView OnlineA Poetry Anthology11. To be a treeI walk through the forest and my limbs flare with pain. Each step is like agony as I rip my roots out again. The trees stoop low overhead, whispering their sorrow Whispering that if I stop, it will all be over by tomorrow. If I stop and rest, and let my body do what it needs to do Then I’ll be calm, and at peace, and part of the forest too. The tangled leaves in my mane will flourish and sprout And my skin will slough away and let the bark beneath out. My hooves will split and make way for my thick taproots And I’ll drink and from my wings will grow a thousand tiny shoots. I’ll flourish with them, they whisper, just try it, you’ll see, Your branches will mingle with ours in our green canopy. “No,” I reply, and my voice creaks, cracks and breaks, I can tell I’m half-tree already, and resisting it aches. But I have to keep going; I have to keep pressing on — If I can keep up this pace I’ll be there by dawn. Back where it began, the place that was my home years ago, Where the draconequus I loved looked startled and said “Uh-oh.” “What’s wrong?” I asked him, my voice still pretty and light, Before it groaned like a branch in the wind late at night. “I just sneezed,” he replied, “But I think something went wrong; I didn’t mean to, but I’ve made something that doesn’t belong.” “Don’t worry,” I said, “After all, how bad can it be? Some chocolate rain will fall soon — let’s wait and see.” And so we waited, and we saw, and with horror we watched As our friends’ skin gave way bark marked and notched. The Princesses fell first, trying to hold back the infection, And one by one the ponies of Ponyville went the same direction. My friends were the last, save for my lover, sweet Chaos, Who spent the last of his magic to rid my fur of swift-growing moss. And now I wander alone, trying to find my way through the glen But everything is different, and I’ll never find my way back there again. I’m looking for — I’m looking for — it’s hard to keep my mind clear — All I can think of is silence, and peace, and the slow passing of years. If I just stop now, if I just give up, I’ll be one of them, I’ll be home The sunlight is sweet, there’s a space just my size, and rich is the loam. It would be so easy, and — I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t quite remember What was I…it’s…it’s late, and the fire’s burnt down to the very last ember. And then, as I stumble through a thicket of brambles and stop short I see them — my friends, my friends, their lives given for naught A circle of five trees with space for a sixth, gathered close around one A tree so tall and distorted and wrong it almost blots out the sun. It bears dozens of fruits and with horn and antler it is crowned And I cry out as it all rushes back — my friends all dying as my lover they surround. “Help us,” they asked, and “I can’t,” I wept, “I love him, I can’t, I can’t. “I won’t help you kill him, even if…even if it makes us all into plants.” “It’s the only way,” Twilight whispered, a branch sprouting from her eye, “Maybe she’s right,” Discord said, “Maybe I have to die.” “No!” I cried, “No!” and I fled into the woods — unable to face them Until now, when I want only to take root with the friends I condemned. My time has run out, but now I’ve come to the end, I find After all that has passed, I can accept it...I don’t mind. I’ll die — or at least, my life will change, and I’ll move on But I’ll be with my friends and my Discord, here in the sun. I take my place in the circle, and turn my face upwards with a sigh, And the branches burst out of me and reach up to the sky. Author's Note This poem is an entry for the Arboreal Yearnings contest.
12. RedeemedView OnlineA Poetry Anthology12. RedeemedRedeemed The sinner is beyond redemption, far past The point of saving, But the moon glows just the same and the stars Are still blazing. The nightmare is monster made flesh, darkness In pony form. Yet that under it all, my sister waits in the eye Of the storm. Those eyes with slitted pupils are the same sky- Blue they were, Though a thousand years' rage tarnishes and Blackens her fur. So I call on Sirius, Naxos, Hestaphion, Demeter and Phrene, On Belgath and Astus, Bucephalus and Castor and Leda and Numene: Bring her back to me, bright stars, you who are her oldest friends, Bring her home safe to me and I'll make sure The nightmare ends. Aid in her escape, and let the pieces I planned Fall into place; My sister, my little sister, returning at last from The emptiness of space.
14. My mother's graveView OnlineA Poetry Anthology14. My mother's graveI met it under the moonlight, in the darkling glen one eve. I met it there at midnight, when I went to the crypt to grieve. I paused there in the doorway, and over my shoulder looked back: Something strange and cold and fey, stirred in that wind-whispered black. A rustle of leathery flapping wings, a shadow cast over the moon, A high keen like a siren that sings, an uncanny twisting faerie tune. It lighted then atop the tomb, the sepulchre where my dead mother lay, Strange angel come to portend doom, to look down at trembling mortal and say "Deep in the star-spangled gloaming, why now wander my lands? Why now for thy daywalker roaming, when the light hours are thine to command?" Something inside me quickened, in anger I stared in her slitted eye; "Though their blood is thickened, unbeating, here my ancestors lie. But once again you come hunting, and my blood still pumps red. I'd lay wager those fangs sting, and I'll fight to keep from feeling them yet." She drew back horrified and hissing, "Lay not your crimes at my door! Ponies are faithless in their forgetting, but my people have never made war!" "War? O no," I scoffed at her, "Only a little blood here and there. A trifle ponies might term murder, if the truth be stated bold and bare." "Say what you mean, pony, and say it posthaste," the enraged thestral quoth, "Before I tire of insults only, and you feel my claws and fangs both!" "An aged mare drained dry, a little colt stolen — these and dozens more! Borne up on leathern wings to fly, a family slain — but one colt lived and saw!" With practised hooves my stake I drew, dropped into lowered fighting stance, Ready to avenge the family I hardly knew, to perform at last this deadly dance. Mournfully the winds blew wild, the forest howled and moaned, The monster faced my mother's child; the batpony hissed and the very mountains groaned. "Fool!" she spat, "But thy kind ever were thus: we drink of fruit and sup on dew; But what pony has ever listened to us? Daywalkers lie, we pay, what there is new? The Princess counselled mercy till the day she broke; in her name I tell you, we seek not thy blood!” With a bitterness old as the hills she spoke, and the oaken stake in my jaws felt good. I did what was moral and right, when I leapt up towards the stars, When I snuffed out the light, in that cold and inequine heart. Why then did the wind sob so, the pines lashing beneath the clear sky? When it wuthered pained and low, and the moon itself seemed to cry? And why did the very night, as the thestral mare looked up with love And whispered “Princess, I come," seem to tremble in the heavens above? I met it under the moonlight, in the darkling glen one eve. I slew it there at midnight, and now I look up at the moon and grieve.
3. My ideas are scattered by the gentlest of breezesView OnlineA Poetry Anthology3. My ideas are scattered by the gentlest of breezes3. My ideas are scattered by the gentlest of breezes When I close my eyes, I can create. I can take the Material I hold and weave and shape it In just the right way, until I have crafted a masterpiece. I can shape and tuck and snip and pin, trim and tease and plait; But then I open my eyes, and the vision recedes. It was just a fever-dream, an infantile wish, A shot at the moon from a foal who Dared to dream that he could Be somepony different. I open my eyes, and The world wavers before me. My breath stutters and my hooves shake. My masterpiece shimmers and fades like a mirage, And I cannot recapture it. I try anyway — or at least, I try to try; But my brain and my limbs cannot communicate. There is a crossed wire, a signal lost, a Ghost in the machine, and I am A stranger to myself. All I can create is disaster. All I can achieve is despair. All I can do is keep trying; But it seems like I’ll never get there. Author's Note Inspired by Zephyr in 'Flutter Brutter'
5. A ConversationView OnlineA Poetry Anthology5. A Conversation“Discord, perhaps you should leave her. You’ve been here for seven days straight. Discord, you have to sleep sometime — There’s still a long time left to wait.” “No.” “Discord, come on — be reasonable. She wouldn’t like to see you this way. Discord, rest, it’s clear you need it; While you’re gone, I promise I’ll stay.” “No.” “Discord, even the spirit of chaos — Even the lord of misrule — Some things are enough to wear all of us down, And I can see you’re exhausted; I’m no fool.” “I don’t think you grasp what is happening here. I promised I wouldn’t leave her side, and Not high seas nor wind nor hell itself Could induce me to move one inch tonight.” “I know you love her—” “—Spare me! What do you know? Of all of your friends she’s the last one to go. You’ve watched them all slip off one by one And you never lifted a hoof to help.” “Discord, I know you’re upset — This must be the hardest point in your life. But Discord, friends don’t speak to each other like that — You know I loved my friends, you know I loved my wife.” “I don’t give a hoot what you think I know; Everything I learned about friendship I got from her. Tell me, Twilight, tell me honestly — What will I do if my wife is taken from me?” “I — I don’t —” “You think I’ll stand at the graveside, Shedding a single dignified tear? That’s not how my mourning will work.” “Are — are you threatening me?” “Well, I’m certainly not making small talk. Let me tell you a little something about her and about me, And let you decide if this is the path you want to force us to walk. I know you have other options…other options you could choose. And I’m warning you now that you’ve got…a lot left to lose. As much as me. Fluttershy, she… She's a candle in the night; A softly, gently flickering light. She warms me and she warns me, She keeps me straight and true; If I were to lose my Fluttershy - Well, I'd probably have to kill you. And that’s just for starters! Everypony in Equestria, all creatures great and small; I'd grind them and I'd crush them, I'd watch your armies fall. I'm telling you this, Twilight, Not out of malice or bad intent: Think of it as a friendly warning, From a draconequus to his friend. I've asked you nicely, I've played along, Followed the rules of this stupid game — I've done all you asked for oh so long. So humour me, Twilight, light your horn, And make my Fluttershy an alicorn. I’m telling you now… I won't ask twice.” Author's Note Written in 15 minutes for a Quills and Sofas panic, won second place.
13. In the BloodView OnlineA Poetry Anthology13. In the Blood Author's Note Trying something new for Halloween. You might have to zoom to read it!
