Sandpaper

Time and wind spin

in a little pine box

under my pillow.

I can hear the sand 

pouring as I sleep.

It erodes me.

Thoughts slough off

like skin cells on sheets..

My topography

 smooths to a plane.

Moonlight undulates

over my eyelids.

A polishing fluid.

Oil and diamonds.

I am suspended.

It seeps into my cracks.

I am scrubbed clean,

rubbed away,

refined,

cut.

Bane of Boars

There was a man of rugged looks

But with a goodly heart.

He traveled far and wide to find

A way to do his part.

Then in a town of lowly means

The ground began to quake.

A monstrous beast burst through the woods

With carnage in its wake.

The dire boar did charge the man.

Its roaring rent the air.

Its razor tusks were slick with blood,

but the man did not despair.

As the raging fiend closed in

the warrior raised his maul.

He swung it down on the beasty’s crown

and stopped it once and all.




[[This is my D&D character's poem about our very first adventure. Poetic license may have been taken...]]