Tag: fantasy

Poems

Training With Koolaen, Part 6 (fantasy nonfiction travel writing)

More of my fantasy soccer travel writing for your evening, end of week reading…

KyrumFoot

By W.T. tuqMairtin, an excerpt from the novel “Povs In Kyrum”

As Kældurn and I were winding down with our stretching a trainer came up and introduced herself to me as Lo’o’toag. She knelt down by Kældurn as he bent my feet back and held my knees. “Is it ok if I touch you? I’d like to check out your muscle and tendon tension.”

“Sure.” I replied. She had a very calm presence about her. Her head was large and broad, her forehead especially. Her hair was dreaded, but short. A headband pushed the short dreads up, but it wasn’t the yellow and black headband. It was white with outlines of blue flowers and yellow stars in their center. She smelled like fresh cedar.

Lo’o’toag pressed behind my right knee with two fingers. She motioned to Kældurn to continue stretching me. “You’ve had this knee replaced, haven’t you?”

“Wow,” I…

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Poems

Training With Koolaen, Part 5 (fantasy nonfiction travel writing)

Might not be your cup of tea, but some more of my fantasy nonfiction travel writing. This is part 5, there’s 4 parts that precede it if you want to read more context. If you like football / soccer and Hemingway’s vignettes of nature you might like this — though this is probably about 1/16th as prosaic as ol’ Papa Rum.

KyrumFoot

By W.T. tuqMairtin, an excerpt from the novel “Povs In Kyrum”

Up ahead, on the trail, the rest of the players had filed back into line. They were about 30 yards ahead. Kældurn looked back, to check on me I assume. I lowered the water bag down and gave him a thumbs up. He shot me a salute back. I sprinted a few steps to tewkKyoo’ihf and the trusty waterbearer, handed her back the bag, helped her swing it over her head and shoulder, then grinned at them, “Come on, we’ve got a little catching up to do.”

We bolted forward, the team and the hills gaining ahead and leaving the city back below to the right. It wasn’t a dead sprint by any means, but probably a good solid 5 minute-a-mile dash.

“You made it, survived one of the toughest parts.” Kældurn welcomed us back.

I huffed and puffed…

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Poems

Lovers Made Of Crystal Dust

In the town of Meldwaen
the agenda drifts out to sea.
It is raining this afternoon,
I pull my semened penis from my blanket.

The houses are made of stone and sand.
You can smell it from the windows burning,
garlic, and oil, and flowers.

The agenda sits on a shelf
by a kitchen-fire burning,
flames are laughter and humanity.

One male rolls the flour of rice bread.
Two females look at each other.
One has wrinkles from the sides of her eyes.
The houses are made of sand and stone.
No one is a servant. All of these are lovers.

Only the male goes to stare upon the sea
alone
when the evening stars are rising
and breathes.
His bones are made of sand and stone.