Perelandra

He smiled bitterly at the folly which had made him so glad, that morning, to exchange those floating paradises, where every grove dropped sweetness, for this barren rock... Uselessly he quickened his pace. Before he had got down into the valley, the grove where he had left Weston was a mere cloud of darkness. Before he had reached it he was in seamless, dimensioned night... When he lay down he discovered that the solid earth and moss of the Fixed Land was very much less comfortable than the surfaces to which he had lately been accustomed. That, and the thought of the other human being lying, no doubt, close at hand with open eyes and teeth clenched on splintered glass, and the sullen recurring pound of breakers on the beach, all made the night comfortless. "If I lived on Perelandra," he muttered, "Maleldil wouldn't need to forbid this island. I wish I'd never set eyes on it."

This passage was taken from C. S. Lewis's "Perelandra", the second book in his Space Trilogy. In this passage, Ransom (the main character) begins to doubt himself, his mission, and its success. He has just made one of his biggest mistakes, and is now stuck on a forbidden island with a possessed man, who may or may not be dead. Since his arrival, Ransom has been clueless as to why he was sent to Perelandra, though he hasn't really been bothered by that fact until now. He feels lost and understandably uncomfortable, given his predicament: naked, hungry, and stuck on a strange planet with no idea what he is supposed to do. I would be freaking out too. Given that, this passage has a somewhat depressing tone, as Ransom ponders his next step. It is actually the first time something really interesting has happened in this book and so mixed with depression is a sense of adventure, suspense, and curiosity. I like it.

The Sword of Mercy

Charlemagne saw a brilliant light. He thought at first it was firelight reflecting from Ogier's blade, but in the next instant, the light, dancing in the swirling smoke, seemed to form itself into... could it be? An angel.
...Charlemagne smiled back at the angel; if this was death, he welcomed it. Ogier, disconcerted by the man's smile, paused. Then, with a grunt, he swung Curtana down toward the head of his former king. As he did, Charlemagne reached toward the angel, using his right hand in which he still held Joyeuse [Charlemagne's sword].
The two blades met... Joyeuse tumbled to the stone floor... Ogier's next blow would be fatal. Holding Curtana in both hands, the Dane raised it for a stabbing, downward thrust. And then he stopped, staring at its blade. Curtana had lost its tip...

I took this passage from Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson's "Peter and the Sword of Mercy". I thought this was a cool opening for a book, when I first read this. Then, I wondered if there was any truth to this story of a "sword of mercy". When I looked it up (thank you Wikipedia), I found that Dave Barry and Ridley Pearson had actually based their book on a very real historical artifact. The legend of how the sword received its name is fake, probably. However, there is a blade by that name which is kept as a part of the Crown Jewels of the United Kingdom and "is carried in the coronation procession", as their story states. This fact gave me even more interest in the book, and even though their legend is fake, it is still awesome.

PS: Highlighted are three unique ways of ending a sentence.

More Poems

Grey as a mouse,
Big as a house,
Nose like a snake,
I make the earth shake,
As I tramp through the grass;
Trees crack as I pass.
With horns in my mouth
I walk in the South,
Flapping big ears.
Beyond count of years
I stump round and round,
Never lie on the ground,
Not even to die.
Oliphaunt am I,
Biggest of all,
Huge, old, and tall.
If ever you'd met me
You wouldn't forget me.
If you never do,
You won't think I'm true;
But old Oliphaunt am I,
And I never lie.


I wrote a poem in inspiration of J. R. Tolkien's, taking his meter and idea of describing an animal.

Like a wild horse,
On a new course,
Guided by sense,
Unguarded by fence,
She leaps over lines,
Disregarding signs
That say to turn back --
Rushing into black,
Hurdling o'er doubt.
An obscure route
That is left to rot,
For others seem caught
In an easy life,
Almost free from strife.
She knows what's true
And sticks like glue
To the One who saved,
Died, and was raised.
She never will stop
'Til she reaches the top.
But not alone does she ride,
For I too am by her side.