Her voice in the storm

The wind blew with savage fury

Trees bowing to nature’s violent breath

Their leaves sent in a maelstrom whirlwind

And I couldn’t help but watch them dance

A familiar voice calling on gale

“Do not be afraid.”

So through the raging torrential storm

The rain now bouncing to its own relentless tune

I stood with a certainty and reassurance

Only the sound of her voice could give.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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It’s been awhile

A pale blue sky threatens to break through the early morning grey and bleary clouds.

The light wind rustles through young tree branches making them animate to some silent dance.

From where I sit in a silent house in contemplation of the day ahead, I watch as squirrels dash up and down with youthful endless energy.

Life is good.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Tea & Poetry

How on earth can the first cup of tea taste so amazing, and yet you make a second straight afterwards and it tastes nothing like the first! So I leave you a little poem, Babbling Brook.

The babbling brook
My hunting ground
Teaming with life
Ready to be captured

The Dragonfly
On delicate wing
Never sitting still
Requires much patience

The butterflies
Much easier prey
So many choices
Never a wasted shot

Different water life
Amphibians and fish
Shy and well hidden
Demand keenest of eye

Birds in the trees
My ultimate goal
Caught whilst hunting
Relies on generous luck

The babbling brook
My favourite place
Armed with a camera
Time simply filters away

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Uneasy Allies

Laughter was heard coming from the direction of the sacred stones, human laughter. Zystag gathered a cluster of his bray kin, and set out armed ready to confront those that would defile their beliefs.

A young champion, Olaff Strom Bane, and a handful of Reavers saw the area as safe sanctuary to rest and relieve themselves after hours of scouting the outlying area.

Zystag, in blind fury called out Olaff, as the rest of the herd surrounded the Reavers. It would be one on one, steel upon steel. For hours the pair fought trading blow upon blow, both equal in artistry of their favoured weapon. Each finding leverage, only of it to be snatched away. Eventually it was Olaff that began to succumb to exhaustion, suffering several near fatal blows as his guard was found slipping.

The brayherd champion saw either compassion, unheard of amongst their kind, or a means in which to benefit the herd, thus sparing the Reaver’s life in exchange of their loyalty and arms when called upon.

Clenching wrists, the pact was made. So tells the tale of how the Bone Reavers came to fight alongside the Brayherd as uneasy allies.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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Shrooms

Under the cover of darkness
From the mulch upon the floor
Mushrooms blossom like little Chinese men
Are they magic? I cannot be sure

I wonder if I should eat one
Taste the fungi for myself
Should I be alarmed by its colourful exterior
Would it be harmful all by itself

The taste is rather weak and bland
I cannot see what’s all the fuss
But soon my head’s a cloudy haze
And I’m not sure what to trust

Is it me that’s spinning round and round
Or is the world beyond my control
I feel a tightening inside of me
As if something’s pulling at my soul

It’s fading now my head’s more clear
That was a scary little trip
When next I’m in this darkened place
Eating mushrooms I’ll be sure to skip

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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