[Reblog] 002829 — Courtley Manor

I’ve been remiss in not giving Marcilla a shout out, mostly because I haven’t sure exactly how to go about giving Courtley Manor, a Gothic Sims episodic webcomic, the best kind of reblog treatment. Do I point you to the beginning? Or do I introduce you to it the way I started consumed it (jump in headfirst and hope I float, avoiding bonking my head on anything sharp on the way in)?

I’m opting for the latter, I guess, mostly because I like this “frame”.

Anything can and will happen in this series — don’t say I didn’t warn you.

002829 — Courtley Manor


©2022 Michael Raven

waking feral forms
the shed skin slips slough
pulling willow white faces
in mirror escapades

could i...
would i...
may i...
kiss you tonight?

slowly silent her feet move ever
chill as night calling her other
she comes to me in slumber
my dead love comes to me --

she wedded whispers such
fog filled breath and fey:
shed your skin and slip with me
be wisp within the vale

everso and evermore

everso --


©2022 Michael Raven

Fingers stretching, not quite able to grasp onto that object close enough to touch, but not close enough to draw back to you, to pull it in and tuck it inside so that it can burst forth from you like a bright laser light.

That’s how I feel these days. So if any of my writing seemed strained, be assured that this is the act going on while I write, this fingertip dance of trying to get enough friction to roll that ball towards me and swallow it like a red-hot ball of iron, choking it down to burn me from the inside out.

Something is just this close and I cannot seem to take it up and throw it back out.

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!, I shout at the blank wall that I imagine to be a mirror. A tired face stares back, bored with my antics.

I don’t want to talk. Don’t call me. Words are empty.

runepoem | 24 jan 2022

©2022 Michael Raven

neither this nor that
neither black nor white
these are the wisdom
the spirits have
gifted to me

they laugh although
not normally prone
to laughter

ha ha ha

Note: For the purposes of these runepoems, I randomly select three runes and consider the meanings of each rune as I interpret and understand them based on a number of different resources, which may or may not be in alignment with accepted interpretations. I am a rune enthusiast, not an expert or scholar. These “runecasts” are not intended to be treated as divinatory, although there are elements of personal alchemy and shamanic practice in the crafting of each poem.


©2022 Michael Raven

her heart
pierced on pinions
crashing against
vessel walls
her soulself ached
to be
from this
tangled coil
wrapped in tinsel
porcelain kiss 


©2022 Michael Raven

caught in the dream
the train leaving descending
three a.m. boarding
to no place at all

a trollkin wintering/

©2022 Michael Raven

...and they sang silent
in the rimenights fallen
mouths agape with
the wildingbeasts a callin'
sacrifice and solace
in wintertide solstice --
what frostjack rends
lends be the fire within

choirbelt sundered 
the gloom felled darkly
cleaving hoarfrost clannad
la faile, 'twixt trollkin stone

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