Son of 6 word story -- 6 (or less) lines of 6 words each

[Giovanna Clairval]

O darkest angel, you, the Nightbringer
are walking shrouded in moonlight.
Beware! For Somnia has the right
to snatch away the reckless dreamer.

 

[Giovanna Clairval]

Three times three, nine subtle steps,
Through the veil, into brazen light.
Incautious wayfarers risk their mortal necks,
Under the glow of the Circumbright.

And once, you have shadowalked there,
Luminous creature of the numbing night.
You did ninestep once, and everywhere
Shone and glared the brazen Circumbright.

 

[HardScienceFan]

turning a phrase,shaping a sentence
molding words,choosing metaphors,applying rhythm,
Gio makes us see that language
fundamentally is a thing of beauty

 

[Giovanna Clairval]

Anglish is such a lovely maid,
Who dances with a wealth of words,
For Latin, Saxon, and French swords
Only a richer lass they made.

 

[Talysia]

Hidden by trees, yet so audible.
Their songs come with the dawn.
A chorus of many different voices
With no words to their song.

 

[Wybren]

Mournfully the Naiad waits, watching, hoping
her secret love may soon appear
knowing in her heart of hearts
he is no longer very near
for Napaeae had ensnared his heart
and kept him for ever more

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Six Things Quite Impossible (I think)

Walk the graveyard of lost years
Plumb the ocean of unshed tears
Recall a thought before it’s sped
Melt a heart that’s made of lead
Fit your lies inside a nutshell
Keep the secret you’d rather tell



(Yes, yes, the title makes it seven lines. But that's ... different.)

 

[Sephiroth]

{Teresa, you are much too kind,
Your own example led the way.
Thank you for this lovely thread,
In which we lyricise each day.)



My soul, once blackened, shines anew,
Aluminous in the dead of night.
Whither now? I wish I knew!
But nonetheless my soul takes flight.

 

[Talysia]

Touched by moonlight, the goddess hunts.
Seeking her quarry in darkest night.
Artemis runs, silver bow in hand.
The hunt goes on every night,
And she never seem to tire,
Chasing the stag, in endless contest.

 

[Sephiroth]

Flowing, silver Vistula, flowing like wine,
Flows across Poland all the time,
When the Vistula no longer flows,
No more Poland, no more Poles.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

I smell griffons in the desert
And hear the manticore’s eager whimpering.
Some creature colored like the sand
Slinks silently behind on padded feet.

 

[Talysia]

Traces of magic permeate the ether.
Echoes of summonings are barely audible.
What arcane sorcery took place here?

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Delirium poisons my dreams at night.
Incoherent fantasies attack my sleeping brain,
And wild, disordered thoughts torment me.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Within a great fantastic iron gate
A hidden, strange, enchanted topiary garden
Where angels, sprites, and woodland nymphs,
Curious shapes of boxwood, holly, yew,
Hold secret revel on October nights.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

A bauble made of glass contains
A perfect, tiny, unhatched world complete
With miniature tides, and infant mountains,
A shining dust-mote for the moon.
Exquisite as a jewel this world
If no one breaks the glass ...

 

[Giovanna Clairval]

She comes in October. Soft steps
take her to the river bank,
and the last flowers are damp
in the wind of the West.

 

[Teresa Edgerton]

Beneath the old moon’s raddled face
Witches hold bacchanal, farmers are burying
The dead year in the fields
While cold scything October winds are
Harvesting the last of the grain

 

[Giovanna Clairval]

Today was a day of October
so warm and kind, like Summer

The sun was behaving like August
and now, stars, encircled by dust.

 

[Wiglaf]

Larcordan Village grew from a swamp.
Wooden shacks decayed on wobbly stilts.
From the muck, foul odors rose.
Rot permeated the stagnant air.
Yet bright flowers adorned every sill.
They availed not against the stench.

 

[Wiglaf]

Willam approached the bridge to town.
His steps on the wood echoed.
At the village's appearance, he smiled.
His smile drooped into a frown.
He could not forget his peril.