Poem After Poem
  • Poetry by Cheyenne
  • Who Writes This Stuff?
  • Say Hello!
  • Support Poetry!
  • What Else I Do
  • Creation Cabal
  • Poetry by Cheyenne
  • Who Writes This Stuff?
  • Say Hello!
  • Support Poetry!
  • What Else I Do
  • Creation Cabal

Poetry By Cheyenne
There's a lot of poetry on here. Happy, sad, funny, horrible, and terrifying.
But it's all poetry, and it's all mine
And I'd love to share it with you
So give it a read!

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.”
― E.L. Doctorow

Puppeteer

11/16/2019

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And with the tolling of the bells
the heart doth beat
the spirit swells,
and what once was dead
and buried deep
shall raise its head
and never sleep again.

I see your eyes widen.
Is it death that you fear?
Well let your soul be lightened,
for I am no threat to you.
I am simply here
to guide you
and be your puppeteer.
You'll be my break through!
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The Blood Tide

6/24/2019

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Blood-red moon hanging in night sky with stars.
Photo by Ken Treloar on Unsplash
And the moon shall be as blood.
Pooling crimson above the earth
until it falls upon it in thunderous waves,
drowning fools and scholars alike.

Then the shadows hoards will march.
Countless beasts with rending teeth and tearing claw,
insatiable mouths stretched wide to devour any and all living flesh.

There will be no stopping them.
No halting their progress
or thinning their numbers.
For shadows are endless
and no sharpened stick or blade
can defeat that which has never lived.

So enjoy your world while it yet stands.
For once the blood tide begins
​there will be no stopping it.
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Advice from the Grave (A Cyrch A Chwta poem)

12/19/2018

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They crawled from the earth that day,
Corpses that stank of decay
voices groaning loud to say,
"We aren't gone. Don't dismay.
We miss you, but you must stay
up here. Keep living today.
'Cause it won't last forever.
Endeavor, live ev'ryday."
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Relic

5/29/2018

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The dark corners of my skull are filled with voices.
They're loud,
echoing in the silence that my lost tongue leaves for them,
giving life to the deep chambers that sit behind my empty eyes.

When they want to speak,
I can't help but listen.
Their voices fill me with vitality,
though it be one with a sinister and violent nature,
and one invisible to the observing eye.

I may be but inanimate.
A relic of a life long past.
A skull picked clean by birds of prey and scavengers,
​set upon a dusty shelf to be forgotten.
But what once lent me power over my fellow man
dwells inside me still.
The fires may appear dead and cold,
but one day they will once again arise,
flickering inside my empty eyes,
ready to light the world aflame once more.

My power will shake the foundations of this earth,
and all will be tossed down again,
kneeling at my feet with head bowed,
ready to serve their true master once more.
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New World Order

12/23/2017

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The world was quiet on the 15th of April, 2017.
Everything worked the way it always had, and everybody went about their usual business.
But just as 8:35 p.m. came around, something decided that it wanted to watch the world burn.
All creatures and organics that had once been living, decided to all come back at once.
The predicted zombie events happened, with coroner’s, morticians, and gravediggers fleeing their posts immediately as corpses begin to walk and talk again.
But a few unexpected things occurred concurrently.
Everything with greater mass than a fistful of wood decided to sprout leaves,
And everything of the meat variety reverted to their living forms,
Bursting from fridges and meat lockers,
Joining the purses, jackets and shoes that also came alive.
Safe to say April 16th established a new world order, when nothing stayed dead for very long.
I’ll let you guess what happened next.
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Never turn around.

12/3/2017

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When the darkness has eyes that glow and claws that catch,
 and feet that slide unseen through the night,
When their howls and moans raise the hair on your arms and neck-
that is when you run.

Have swift steps towards the light,
and don't let them smell the fear that is gnawing at your insides,
or hear the scream of mindless terror that is tearing at your throat.
They are deadly enough without any encouragement.
But if they know of your doubts and your nightmares,
then you will never be safe.
Once they have tasted that small part of you, they will use it.
It will fuel them and turn every single monster, to a never-ending hoard.
No matter where you go, they will find you.
Everywhere you look, you will find their eyes and deep-throated whispers.

Once you've met their eyes,
they will never leave you.
So whatever you do-
even if their footsteps are charging towards you-
even if their fetid breath is searing the back of your neck-
if you can almost feel the grasp of their rotten hands on your skin-
don't turn around.
And never look into their eyes.
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    Cheyenne Bramwell

    I love to write, and poetry is one of my favorite ways to figure out what my brain is doing.

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