Authored Pieces
Sample Poems
Poetry of Jason E. Collinge
Every Comma Tickles the Psyche
Everyone
has a story completely theirs by virtue of being
unique individuals with an unremittingly evolving
amalgamation of knowledge and experience peculiar to
their idiosyncratic existences. In other words,
everyone is unique with unique tales to tell.
While various forms of writing attempt to compartmentalize and comprehend the known, poetry sifts through the unknown, attempting to glimpse the intangible, and bring it to light, even to convey it, often melodically, to others. One does write in total sequestered solitude without feeling the breath of others around, completely severed from society and the world. Nor does the reader fully comprehend a good poem without first noting his or her own visage staring back. Poetry is the expression of distinctive lives, the cathartic release, and the method of understanding inner self. It is a flushing of the deepest and most tangled, thorny briars of the mind, a way of questioning, empathizing, and comprehending the world and one’s existence within it. Poetry tickles the psyche and brings into acute, intimate focus that which is already present.
"Crickets Gossip"
Ash-grey signatures,
On lakes of blue emeralds,
Lap the lines between
Soft quiet hours
And moon tipped flowers.
for Naoko Tomomura, 16th October 2005
"Dry Reeds"
Were it but for a time, a going and a coming,
But the dust collects,
The autumn comes, and dry reeds moan,
One long month of rain sounding everywhere,
Yet, in this gloomy world is one whose sleeves are dry.
"Kawaita
Yashi"
Tsukihi no sariyukugotoku,
Hito wa sari, mata modori kuru
Daga konu hito wo machi
Chiri wa tsumori yuku
Aki wa otozure, kawaita yashi wa hikuku unaru
Nagatsuki no ame wa atari ni hibike domo
Kanashii yoni mada wa ga sodenurenu
"My
Unkempt Garden"
In my unkempt garden lies,
Water in bamboo pipes frozen silent.
Cranes praying on the pond,
Have vanished like snow in winter rain.
Watching their departing forms,
I once heard the water fall.
My weak will succumbs,
And, choked with thoughts,
The mourning sky, streaked with grief,
Is reflected in tears.
"Aresarashi
no Niwa ni"
Aresarashi no niwa ni
Seijyaku ni takedzutsu wa kooru
Kubi na tare, inoru ike no tsuru,
Touu ni nokoru yuki no gotoku kieyuku
Taki ni utsuri saru kage wo nagame,
Wa ga hoo wa, taki to nureyuku
Wa ga hito wa kaeranu...
Komi ageru omoi ni iki tsumari.
Omoku yuuutsuna sora ni
Hukaku kanashimi otoshi
Kanashimi no ato ga wa ga namida ni utsuru
"Ripples
in the Dark"
Pebble ripples in tidal waves,
Fireworks flash a memory,
Sparks fall within blue-grey regrets,
And the floating ashes drift skyward.
“Karanliktaki Dalgalar”
Tükselip alçalan dalgalardaki çakiltaşlariyla,
Bir aniyi hatirlatiyor hahifişekler,
Kivilamlar mavi gri bir hüzünle süzülürken,
Göḡe sürükleniyor uçuşan küller.
"Stirklyn: The Angels' Bane"
Now sharper than a wizard's spell,
Is that which rides from out of hell.
A ghostly horde of the devil's own,
Made fast of deathless blood and bone.
Out of the night, And down the lane,
Rides Stirklyn, The Angels' Bane.
The march of an army, A force grown bold,
Will find no mercy, In a heart burned cold.
They wrought not what they had lost;
Seeking victory at any cost.
For with the riding of this host,
All mankind gives up its' ghost.
And into the night with unseemly laughter,
Death on his pale horse follows after.
The last horn is sound, The death knell rung.
No wine to be drunk, No songs to be sung.
For out of the night, And down the lane,
Rides Stirklyn, The Angels' Bane.
"The Dwarves of Yore"
Deep in the earth
We ply our trade
Sweat and hammer
Seeking out the grade
We are the Dwarves
Our seed is strong
Rock and stone
We belong
"The Flight of
the Halfling"
(from the adventures of Torg Bullneck)
Blinding fury and gaping jaws,
Enormous wings and sabre claws.
White scales shining in the light,
Was the dragon in all his might.
Bullneck the thief would scout ahead,
If he should die then all be dead.
From his nostrils rose steam and smoke,
From his slumber Kragoth awoke.
Kragoth knew of thieves and their kind,
And had a cunning plan in mind.
They never came to lair alone.
There must be more behind the stone.
Kind is Kragoth; a friend is he,
"Please take my gold and let me be.
Please take the gold, it's yours to use."
Torg saw his scheme; his cleaver ruse.
While sitting on a stone slab base
And with greed shining in his face,
A dragon fan Torg does pretend.
If he should fail, it is the end.
Bullneck's friends from hiding did see,
Kragoth and Torg conversing free.
In the dragon's sight they were not.
From their bows the arrows were shot.
Too late Kragoth saw through the lie,
As Torg turned and stabbed his left eye.
A subtle dupe; a brilliant con,
The jig was up, the fight was on.
Roused in wrath and provoked in ire,
Kragoth breathed ice instead of fire.
Companions in ice were froze.
Into the air the dragon rose.
An elven druid does give aid,
While Bullneck with a blood drenched blade,
Does jump upon the dragon's back,
From there to make his next attack.
Then ruined was the dragon's plan,
To sup and dine on bones of man.
With his gold, in frantic flight,
He would away into the night.
Then out of hall and into night,
Did Kragoth take this bloody fight.
Air filled his wings, gold filled his hand,
Another day he'd kill this band.
Torg was brave, but Kragoth bolder,
He plucked Torg from his shoulder.
A doll was he in Kragoth's naw,
But rage was all Torg Bullneck saw.
The halfling's life would be his prize,
He would eat his legs, then his eyes.
From Kragoth's nostrils hot blood flows,
A wooden shaft hath pierced his nose.
The dragon, blinded in one eye,
Soars up into the moonlit sky.
Held tight in Kragoth's mighty claw,
Receding ground was all Torg saw.
Then Kragoth's claw did loose its grip,
Torg caught on the dragon's tail tip.
With only dagger to defend,
Torg would make a defying end.
One slash more was all it would take,
One slash more he would never make.
For when Torg's blow it would be struck,
It was then he ran out of luck.
Wrenched free of the dragon's long tail,
He tried to strike; to no avail.
Unlucky he; bravest of all,
To his death, Torg Bullneck would fall.
Beyond all help, away from his team,
His dagger with dragon blood doth gleam.
Out of the night and through the hall,
Could be heard the scream of Bullneck's fall.
Even as he fell to his death,
Torg cursed Kragoth under his breath.
Disappearing into the night,
Kragoth another day would fight.
Out of the night rose bony hands,
To form shimmering web-like strands.
Through the air crackled mage-power,
To save Torg, in this his hour.
Safe on the ground, out of harms way,
Torg longs to be back in the fray.
The strands of web did break his fall,
Tales of Torg resound the hall.
He may have faced the dragon's might,
But he'll not leave the pub this night.
Wine for Torg and his friends have beer.
Raise your glasses, for Bullneck cheer!
This poem is in homage to the adventures of the great Torg Bullneck, a character created by Mark Brunsden of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada.
"The Snow is Falling"
The snow is falling,
The day is coming to a close.
The ground is sadly smooth with newly fallen snow,
Only some scattered weeds are left to show.
"Huri
Yuku Yuki"
Huri yuku yuki
Tsukihi (toki) wa sugi yuki
Chi wa arata ni huri tsumoru yuki de
Seijyaku ni odayaka de
Yuki no ue ni kusa kire dake ga mabarani no zoku
"Twilight Time"
Traveling through twilight space,
Through shades of blue and grey.
In the deepening darkness, grass diamonds glisten,
And a world in strokes of silence takes pause.
"Whispers of the Rain"
Gone and come again
Are whispers of the rain.
Dancing to the dawn
Amid twilight's yawn
To lighted taverns
Along shaded halls
Springing from the shadows
The harping fiddler calls
In whispers to the rain
That are gone and come again.
For Naoko Tomomura, 26th April 2005