The Lament of the Grammar Nazi

I die, I die, my heart is torn in twain

Twixt many agonies. Be still, mine pounding heart!

Thy place lies not outside my ribcage.

My soul would be consumed amidst 

A fiery wrath were it not for the tears,

The tears I weep in shame and rage and pain.

Sweet melancholy, take your darkling hand from me,

For else my lament shall tear

My very soul away, and leave me naked

To bleed my lament upon unforgiving stone.

I weep for thee, poor abuséd comma,

Dear noble comma; thou who seeks only the love

And companionship of thy sweet lady, the printed word.

Alas, thou art torn from her arms,

Wrenched from your place by cruel, distant minds,

Illiterati, gods among their own,

Who care not for the worth of thy friendship.

Thy kinsmen mourn thee, sweet apostrophe.

Ye who lately cast yourself into obscurity,

Cursing and raging at the callousness of life

And all those who bear its weight. 

You left no sign but shadows dancing on your earthen grave

And unshed tears to wait on them.

Death's list grows long, his latest claims lie

As alabaster effigies; outcast, unloved, betrayed,

Cruel scorn heaps her laughing load upon their heads

And her shrieks do ignite the mourning pyres

Of we who miss thee.

The cause of thy sacrifice, I do not know, and nor

Do I try to fathom the wisdom that drove thee into the unent'rable veil

Of death. Forsooth, for all my weeping I,

Poor wretch that I am, am unworthy,

A mere sprig, a mud-blasted squire unfit to wield

The blade of his fallen master.

I fear this grief will end me.

If it be so, I cannot resist. Even those grey depths

Can hold no fear for me after the horrors I here witness.

The bright, bold word torn and butchered at a fool's ease,

The wrenching screams of prose, and poetry's keening wail.

Death. All is, all is, death.

The field is lost. The tapestry unravels as

Its threads unwind, the wailing weaver weeping

In the ruins; for without thee,

Without thee, oh forgotten comma,

Oh distraught apostrophe.

Without thee and thy kind,

We are dooméd all

To LOL.

"Stolen by the Fae" - A Ballad

Yep, I'm back with a vengeance, tormenting you with yet more poetry! Mwua ha ha ha ha!
Anyway, I wrote this quite late last night while listening to Blackmore's Night ... perhaps you can see some inspiration in there. Hope you like!
(note: the tune is that of Blackmore's Night's song "Faerie Queen", so if rhythm doesn't fit it's because the vowels in a couple of the lines are extended, kay?)

T’was high upon the moorland,
Just before the close of day.
The shadows were a’dancing,
The sunlight gone away.
I rode upon my dapple mare,
My bow across my back.
My companions rode beside me
Along the narrow track.

The mists came down around us
And shrouded all in sight.
Leaving us forsaken to
The creatures of the night.
We wandered in the darkness
Called out for help and aid.
But out across the emptiness
Our cries, unanswered, fade.

But as it seemed that all was lost
A light sprang up ahead.
We three rejoiced and, in our hearts,
Bright hope replaced our dread.
We followed onward blindly
After our shining guide.
Through misty wood and forest land
As ravens wheeled and cried.

But we recoiled in disbelief
When our path was revealed.
We had been lead by faerie lights
And now our fate was sealed.
Our horses turned and bolted
Threw us unto the earth.
We were left, abandoned,
Upon the sidhe’s hearth.

The faerie king, upon his throne,
He looked at us with glee.
“What brings you to my lands tonight
Oh wand’ring trav’lers three?”
I could not speak, my mouth was dry,
My tongue a piece of lead.
My friends, they gaped and stared around
And not one word was said.

The faerie king, he laughed as if
Our minds had gone amiss.
We’d broke the land’s most sacred rule
And now our lives were his.
We begged him to have mercy,
Not to murder nor to maim.
T’was all a terrible mistake
And we were not to blame.

The sidhe stood around us,
Blades raised to strike us dead.
The king, he smiled and waved his hand,
We’d play a game instead.
The courtiers gathered all around
Their hungry eyes alight.
To see what entertainment was
Laid on for them tonight.

He gave to us a riddling song
To answer wrong or right.
Our rewards were our freedom
Or death upon the knife.
My heart grew bright with terror,
My thoughts a raging flood.
The fae leaned close and licked their lips
A’hung’ring for our blood.

“What breaks the hardest sword blades?
What beats the mountain down?
What tears apart the tapestry,
And rusts the golden crown?”
Thus was our challenge set to us,
A puzzle for our heads.
Until the sun arose at dawn
Our lives hung by a thread.

A terr’ble dark o’ercame my heart
I bit my nails and thumb.
I puzzled and I mused and yet
The answer would not come.
My friends were likewise dumb and deaf
No word would pass our lips.
We stood in silence till the sun
Broke through the night’s eclipse.

“Have you still no answer?”
The faerie did demand.
“Speak up and answer truly
And you will not be harmed.”
Desperation took its hold
Over my stricken friends.
They both cried out with such a voice
They were heard o’er hill and glen.

“Unfortun’tly, my troubled ones,
Your fear has made you fail.
You do not have the answer .”
We three turned deathly pale.
Our hearts were siezed in terror
Our struggles were in vain.
My cries for mercy went unheard as
My companions both were slain.

The faerie king then looked to me,
“You have not spoken still.
What is this curse that holds your tongue?
What does such fear instill?”
I shook my head in guilt and shame,
I stared down at my feet.
I closed my eyes, prepared myself
My certain doom to meet.

But the sidhe merely looked at me
A cold light in his eye.
He said to me “Don’t fear my friend,
Tis not your time to die.
Come hither, fearful one, and I’ll
Ignore your henious crime.
Come and join my merry band as we
Dance till the end of time.

To this day you’ll find me
Among the dancing fae.
We sing our songs by moonlight
And through the summer’s day.
Until the end of time I’ll live,
Ne’er age and know no pain.
But I will not lay eyes upon
The mortal world again.

My kinsmen are the calleach,
My home the hollow hill.
I serve my lord, the fairy king,
I live by his goodwill.
For that was what befell me,
Upon that fateful day.
I live on still, but I am gone,
A’stolen by the fae.