So Denis had posted the following in the general chat today on discord.

Crimson dreams with consciousness streams,
the Leper King is crowned.

Crimson dreams with consciousness screams,
the empire of men are bound.

Crimson dreams with consciousness beams,
the white knight is found.

Crimson dreams with consciousness seams,
the world is unwound.

This is an excerpt from "At the Spine of the Dead Dreamer" and is a hint of things to come

Shortly after i read that, I figured i could respond to it and crafted out this one....

Cursed dreams, with cursed screams,
The wound the blade had brought.

A board, a game, of mortal claim,
Two lords a battle fought.

Of death, and change, those stars arranged.
Lords' master wanted ought.**

These seven suns, this Islirith,***
He had heard of naught.

To sage and priest the white knight went,
To cleanse the blade he caught.*

They prayed, they plead, in dire need.
Though, the blade had earned his spot.****

*(was formerly fought, but changing it helps reduce re-usage of same last word)
** (was formerly - Lords' master it did want.)
***(was formerly - seven suns, Islirith)
****(formerly "in the end it mattered not" - added though, then revised to the new line)
*****(Added title)

Here is what I wrote before all the revisions.

Cursed dream, with cursed screams
The wound the blade had brought.

A board, a game, of mortal claim.
two lord battle fought.

Of death, and change, those stars arranged.
Lords master it did want.

Seven suns, Islirith,
He had heard of naught.

To sage and priest the white knight went.
to clense the blade he fought.

They prayed, they pleed, in dire need.
It would matter not.
Last edited:
Honestly, I have always had difficulties appreciating poems because I didn't understand them. I thought it was difficult to find their rhythm, and that they were often prone to being misinterpreted or read out of tune. I saw that as a weaknesses that other mediums did not have.

But after talking to Varik and asking for explanations on how his poem is read, the more I thought about it and tried singing it, the more I realized that perhaps it is best not having a specified way of being sung... That allows the reader to give its own emotional tone.

I've reread the Seven Suns of Twilight many times over and began to appreciate things that I did not at first. Just like in the Sonata of Justice I found the context confusing at first. It seemed jumbled, as if one paragraph shifted the tale onto something else entirely to the next. The Seven Suns in Twilight was a similar experience to me, at first, I couldn't even understand who was saying what. But after pondering it I was able to discern a few things, and understanding the context also made me appreciate your post in a new way.

Your references are simple, and neat. A lot is contained in those few lines. It seems to me that this could be something a bard would sing of a tale that is widely known. It even sparkled a fleeting desire for me to write a poem of my own, one day--something that I would never have conceived before.

Good work, Varik. :D
Last edited:
Honestly, I have always had difficulties appreciating poems because I didn't understand them.

I too felt the same way, and frankly was really afraid to release any of these until I wrote The Old World, and it just resonated with me. So, the next day after completing it, I showed it to my mother, and she said to me, "Oh Denis, that is good, did you write that?" The surprise on her face made me believe she was not just placating a son she loved, and this gave me confidence to release it. It then became the first VO test we did with @George Ledoux with great results:

Just like in the Sonata of Justice I found the context confusing at first. It seemed jumbled, as if one paragraph shifted the tale onto something else entirely to the next.

This follows the Sonata-Allegro form:
It is an aggressive piece to be sure, combining the Sonata form, shifting perspectives, and sentient weapon with a pocket universe. There are many rules/norms for writing, especially revolving around Aristotle's Poetics. To be clear, I do not pretend to be an expert on writing, I feel I am far from it. However, I am tired of being able to predict movie endings after the first act is completed because they always follow the rules explicitly set down from Aristotle in his masterpiece, every time, over and over again. So, in the vein of making games (in this case narrative) that I would want to play myself, I decided to play in a sandbox of inspiration set out from Thomas Ligotti ( who is an absolute genius IMHO and others like Steven Erickson, who both seemed to walk away from the tried and true, and create something challenging. It certainly is challenging for me to create these pieces, and it is exciting to see it inspire excellent pieces as @Varik Keldun just wrote above.
I'm not a writer either, but after reading that poem.. mine came together within 15 minutes... it was an epiphany I guess you could say.

I showed mine to my wife and she said "this is really good!" that was after i posted it, and before I did any editing to help make it flow better (IMHO) changes are listed if you want to compare the old with the new.
I like writing poems, because there is a mechanical, logical element to them that's a major factor of their overall artistic appeal. As someone who usually has little success in making something artful, but has good logical skills, poems give me an opportunity to create art I fail to produce otherwise.

Maybe the reason that I don't write poetry more frequently is my high school art teacher who claimed that I stole a poem I wrote from Goethe and, despite my protest, marked me down because of it, while a female student who literally stole song lyrics (and admitted to it) got a perfect grade.

I'll see if I can dream something up in my character thread...
Having grown up with Shakespeare and doing a lot of his works (thanks Orlando Shakespeare Theatre) Poetry feels like a second language. My issue however is that everyone falls into basic rhyme schemes(thanks ancient Greece). Plead/Lead, they/way, etc.
ironically if you read Shakespeare and start to learn his cadence a lot of his stuff doesn't rhyme, it only feels like it does. I also appreciate Lovecraft and Howards poetry because some of it broke that conventional rhyme scheme.

now with all that said: conventional rhyme isn't bad, but if you can break from it I guarantee even the poetry you write in private will soar above the norm.
@Varik Keldun and @derula your stuff is good. Also naturally @Denis Dyack all that experience under your belt shows. Keep churning out gold.

Poetry is a double edged sword of complexity and simplicity, the key is striking that balance. You want it to be simple enough for the general audience (again old Billy Shakes wrote for the common wealth and the people in the cheap seats) and complex enough so you can have the philosophy majors analyze it to where the curtains are no longer blue.

(the curtains being blue is a term in English literature regarding interpretations. an author can write " and the curtains were blue"
the English Professor and anyone else might interpret it as " these blue curtains here represent the characters/authors pain and depression"
but the author literally just meant these are some blue curtains)

think ill write some poetry.
y'know my english Lit teacher went on and on and on about little red riding hood... about its a comming of age story and so on red represented this. and things represented other things... I do understand some of that to a point but then again.... the story was written for children.... who don't understand 90% of those things so i say what if it was just a story to scare the kids...
Something off the top of my head.


I sailed upon a White Ship, through the Grim Expanse.
On The Seas of Fate we tread, The White Ship never leaving course.
Into The Sea of Dreams we crossed. "Isoth! Ho Isoth!"

A heavy cargo my crew carried, they waxed and waned.
The further from The White Ship we distanced, my heart grew dark, heavy.
"How long til we reach?" ask one of my crew. "Nothing to fear the Empire of Men is near."
He looked and scoffed for the cargo was a burden, I carried it to. Heavy for certain.

That night we took shelter among the trees, the darkness closing in.
The dreams this night were different than most, a voice echoed, so full of song and glee.
A low hum throughout the night, tis more than just a breeze.

Dawn is rising but the forest is dark, my men grow tired and warry.
Tis something off about this land, something foreboding.
Perhaps I should have stayed abroad, never set sail on that White Ship.
"No turning back now" i think to myself, oh if only i had known..
been trying to wrap my brain around this one for a bit now.
again, going back to my english lit class (wow that was 6+ years ago) different words COULD mean different things... White for instance..... purity, innocence, truth. stuff along that lines...

and some of the other lines do reflect this it seems...
"white ship never leaving course"
"The further from the white ship we distanced, my heart grew dark, heavy"
perhaps i should have stayed abroad, never set sail on that white ship

this seems to me one of those poems that has a lot to tell under the surface content, i'll def be coming back to it to try and pick some more out of it.
Last edited:
this was made when i had insomnia

How is it that I falter when some have neither food nor water but, I lay awake nearly breaking apart at night fighting to sleep.
The tears come but I know not where the well spring flows from.
My mind fails me on a daily basis, I have come to accept this.
What I cannot accept is that I have little worth upon this earth.
I have neither direction nor ambition.
Sometimes its hard to bring myself to brave the craven world even in my own mind.
Were that I were blind to the injustice of this accursed malady that I call mine.
Depression is the only thing that makes an impression on this hellscape, I call my mind.
Even as I pen this poem They tell me I should be sleeping yet here I am.
Weeping for the sleep that escapes me.
Doing my best rendition of woe is me, auditioning for the part in a play called first world problems.
This may seem trivial to you dear reader but it bleeds me all the same like any knife could.
Not bleeding of blood but of my last remains of sanity.
I see no reason for vanity in this world who gave you the right to judge?
I care not for what you think, in the end all that matters is that I judge myself to have been worthy of my birth.
  • Agree
Reactions: Temuldjin
Bright crimson bloodmoon.
Intense bestial howling.
Ah yes! the werewolf.
-Varik Keldun
Last edited:
  • Happy
Reactions: Denis Dyack
came up with this one today at work

White hot, Burning RAGE
Havoc, Hate, Malice Infused
Behold Revenant
for the ghoulies out there

Hunger, unsated
Savory corpse connoiseur
Gourmandizing Ghoul
I can do Haiku
It's actually quite simple
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji


Okay, okay, here's a real one:
Only when sleeping
Are you able to pet him
His name? Cheeseburger

How about this:
We don't really know
A whole lot about them yet
That's the Wraith for you

Okay, for serious tho:
Eternal Darkness,
Blood Omen and Too Human:
Denis made them all

Okay, derula, you can stop now. No, seriously, don't-
A long time ago
Silicon Knights existed
They don't anymore

What are you even doing.
I thought we were getting
Shadow of the Eternals
Suddenly Deadhaus

Okay I see what it is, you are grumpy you didn't get the game you wanted. How very mature of you.
I don't even know
What I'm doing anymore
Help me, I can't stop

Are... are you okay, derula?
What is going on?
I can't control my writing
It's all in Haiku!

Okay, chill, calm down. There has got to be a reasonable explanation for this.
I don't really know.
I just saw Varik Keldun's
And suddenly, this!

Okay, well, how about you try to break out of it. Make the last line just three syllables. Can you do that?
I guess I can try.
I'm not sure I can do it.
I did it! ...oh, whoops.

...oookay, let's try something else. I'll distract you. ...BEHIND YOU, A THREE-HEADED MONKEY!
Wow, that's surprising.
And it's the second biggest
I have ever seen!

I'll try something else. derula, you're a big, old, smelly meanie!
Funny you'd say that
I don't like you much, either
Never did, never will

HA! Lol you're so stupid.
What is so funny?
This is not nice, my friend.
Please make it stop.

You think you're clever / but look at what you're doing / you keep messing up.
I won't let you tell me
what I can or cannot do
You brainless imbecile

You're so stupid you can't even count to five.
Yeah, well, your momma
Is so fat that she's...




I hereby sincerely apologize for this post.
  • Friendly
Reactions: Mournblade
First attempt at the Norse poetry style of Fornyrðislag. If I got something wrong lemme know.

“The loyalty of Jelrass”

An inaudible storm
Is our Lady Undead,
A beauty to behold
Our merciful Baroness

Quiet is what she ask
So silence is our offering,
freely we gift it
And so sweetly she governs

No humans scream here
For we are not hunted,
Kept we are from pain
So content she is in blood

Her needs are our joy
And so jealously we guard,
For many suffer in Deadhaus
But with her we are spared

Outsiders be told
And know this truth,
If trouble is heard
Then harried you be by all.
Last edited:
Ageless Arcana
Cryptic erudition dredge
Magick refined Liche

Arcana obscured
Erudition wield, obsess
Liche, Apex magick

Desolate anguish
Rankle, Seethe, Dispair. VENGENCE!
Shrieking Banshees' wail.
Last edited:
To live together
To die sundered by their friend
For power betrayed

A hint of the backstory I have in mind for my Liche character.
A hint of the backstory I have in mind for my Liche character.

Aw, I want to write a poem relating to my character, too, but I can't think of a context it would exist in. Maybe someday I'll think of something. I'll just do a quick & dirty Haiku for now:

I hear him calling
My reality waning
I must go to him