And In The

by RunicTreetops

Rating: everyone
Tags: Pinkie Pie, Moondancer, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Doctor Whooves, Anthology, Sad, Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1162

A collection of poems about love, memory, art, and friendship.

A collection of poems exploring themes of loving yourself, expressing yourself, living a turbulent life, creating art, having a fading memory, and experiencing the joys of true friendship.

Pre-read (and inspired by) the incredibly talented alaoel and SecondPrances. Go check them out!

Published 2024-04-07 16:40:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-04-07 16:40:01 UTC

And In The

Magic tends to clash with
But there was nothing else she
It made her feel loved.

They knew she couldn’t
But they still
It was amusing.

The magic was
But life isn’t
Moondancer had failed.

It wasn’t the first
But agony never does
She walks on pins and needles.

Never again would
But she was used to
Just another disappointment.

A waterfall of
But she wouldn’t show
She still had her pride.

Alone again in the
But she thought she was getting
She should have told someone.

A sickness that
But it’s all in her
She can’t use it as an excuse.

That’s what they
But she isn’t so
She’s better than that.

Alone in her
But still she will
It reminds her that she’s alive.

A glow from her
But she wasn’t trying to
Why now?

Magic that shouldn’t
But it’s right in front
She’s doing it.

They won’t believe
But she also won’t
And yet she feels at peace.

Cosmic dust and
But the wind carries
The spell ends prematurely.

A waterfall of
But this time it’s
She knows she’s succeeded.

And in the
But she doesn’t need
She can love herself.

Some Days

Some days, countless ideas assault my senses with tales, imagery, works of art, and symphonies of passion and thought. Some days, the ideas beg to be released. Some days, the ideas cannot be contained.

Today is not some days.

Smile

My cheeks hurt.
My eyes water.
My mouth is dry.
From the smiling.

My throat burns.
My voice is strained.
My chest is sore.
From the laughing.

My head is throbbing.
My mind is clouded.
My muscles ache.
From last night.

My smile hurts.
My laughter is fake.
My evenings are blurs.
From forcing it.

The crowd is singing.
The crowd is moving.
The crowd is happy.
From my parties.

Twilight is dancing.
Rarity is giggling.
Rainbow is rejoicing.
From my efforts.

Applejack is beaming.
Fluttershy is twirling.
And I
don’t have to force it.
From friends like these.

Author's Note

I'm sure this was unexpected coming from me. :twilightblush:

I wrote these poems purely for myself over the past couple of years whenever my life became turbulent. I never had any intention of publishing them until alaoel and SecondPrances encouraged me to reconsider. So, I gathered some of the pony-related ones, touched them up a bit, and gathered them here. As a result, a lot of these are more personal than my standard fare, and they're probably harder to follow as well.

Still, I greatly appreciate each and every one of you that took the time to read this in spite of how different it is from my usual work. It really does mean a lot to me. :heart:

5/7/5

Fading distant light
The princess does her duty
And poetry completely escapes me

An oft tread format
It’s what the audiences want, isn’t it?
That’s what’s important.

But I’m no good at sticking to syllable limits
And natural words are hard
I’m not a poet

Isn’t it easier to just say what we want?
The distant skies seen from Canterlot are breathtaking
This isn’t enough

They tell me I’m fine
That my work is beautiful
But couldn’t it be a whole lot MORE beautiful?

I want to express how much I love this land
I want everypony to hear my true thoughts
But I’m a princess.

I will keep working
And the sun will rise again
Following the rules.

I do not want this
Coloring between the lines
I mean, I’m a princess. If a rule is outdated, I can just change it

My focus is split
How do my ponies do this?
Their work is lovely.

I suppose the rules work just fine for them
And their poetry touches the hearts of many
I am the problem.

There’s just one more thing
That I feel needs to be said:
I don’t like haiku.

And She Felt

Luna thought about her life
And she felt scared
And she felt confused
And she felt remorse
And she felt minuscule
And she felt worthless
And she felt seen
And she felt heard
And she felt redeemed
And she felt insufficient
And she felt flippant
And she felt jubilant
And she felt conceited
And she felt fake
And she felt ashamed
And she felt stifled
And she felt stained
And she felt determined
And she felt tired
And she felt intelligent
And she felt proud
And she felt ready
And she felt humbled
And she felt insecure
And she felt invisible
And she felt alone
And she felt found
And she felt supported
And she felt betrayed
And she felt furious
And she felt envious
And she felt cold
And she felt powerful
And she felt unstoppable
And she felt shocked
And she felt pain
And she felt distant
And she felt isolated
And she felt unlovable
And she felt nothing.

(no subject)

Dear recipient,

If you are reading this, it means my work has been successful.

An electronic mail system is now within Equestria’s grasp.

Of course, you’re probably not reading this.

It’s much too late for this technology to be of any use.

There’s no one left to use it.

Why do I toil?

These walls kept me safe.

They also keep me in.

Why do I care?

There’s nothing out there anyway.

But something pushes me forward.

Why do I innovate?

My work is no longer work.

What use is technology that nopony can use?

It is no longer technology.

These hooves once made machines.

These hooves once made innovation.

These hooves once made ponies happy.

Now, these hooves make art.

Ode to Someone

when i was a filly i knew
someone
she was beautiful
wise
terrifying

she spoke of the night
of stars
a world that could be better
i hear her voice echo
in my sleep

i was young then
timid
naive
silent
i didnt know the word then
regret

with age comes experience
she knew that too
she warned of the danger
the word you learn with time
regret
i am gray

i cannot remember
the mare who spoke of the moon
her name
her face
only her voice remains
if i can trust my memory

what happened to her
the mare who spoke of my dreams
how did she know
did she know

that word again
what color were her eyes
where did we
is it her voice i hear
or mine

a blur of images
i made them up
the mare who spoke of love
is a blur of feelings
regret

did i know her
did she know me
what is a pony
no one remembers

i force my eyes open
bid farewell to the stars
curse my own dreams
and relinquish my

i dont know your name
i cant remember your face
my mind is long gone
and my memory fades

But I will not forget you.