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Caitlin Fisher Oct 2015
Confessions of a Poisoner

Sweet spirit, have you come to haunt me as I tell stories of deposed kings?
Come, let us sit upon the ground so I can tell you how I have no interests in the trapping of guns or daggers
No, there's nothing fascinating about deaths wrought from metal.
You see, every knight sees it coming, the sword ****** through him or the arrow between his eyes.
It’s never such a surprise.
And it’s far more satisfying to see the king, my uncle, swallow wine, forced down his throat by me, of course, fall choking and writhing and paying for his crimes.
Oh, you look frightened.
Why, sweet spirit, is that so?
I’ll pretend I don’t know,
There is a certain social stigma surrounding poison, you see.
The coward’s weapon
Only used by servants, jealous wives, pitiful begrieved lovers, to name a few
How embarrassing must it be for the powerful and mighty king to be laid low by his housekeeper.
Yet, it is the only weapon that we, the servants, wives, and lovers have to protect ourselves.

Imagine this:
You’re twelve years old and your master is calling out to you
“Come along, little one,” and he puts a grimy hand on your shoulder and wraps the other one around your tender wrist.
You were supposed  to-what?
Run, hide, and cry for mommy?
No, not I
And twelve years later hemlock but falls into my hands
Twenty four years of age and revenge well wrought
My ironclad wrists were caught
By prison keepers, no
By justice that flowed with my blood
Why should I live in fear?
My silver tipped tongue was clever enough to save me from even a hangman's noose

I know-knew- a man who flogged his sons
Such a sight they were
Dripping in their crimson blood
One night I served his wine
mixed with nightshade, of course
Never mind the other guests
I'm sure they beat their daughters too
The best thing was: they never knew
Justice burned and brightly bloomed

There was a boy who did adore me in my form
But, oh look here, he was such a bore
On and on and on he droned
Fog and mist must fill his bones
Wolfsbane was the only cure
and to see him writhing on the floor
it was the most marvelous of sport
to see his eyes roll and blood mixed with foam at his mouth
I wasn’t bored of him anymore

The King, my uncle
What a monster he is
He let my mother and brother be tried in his court
He thought they were guilty
Maybe they were- I don’t know
But bonds of blood he did burn so
Belladonna in Elderberry wine
There was never such a pretty sight
His lips stained purple with such a sweet drought
I was there with and his cries set music in my veins
I stood there with eyes transfixed
Such a symphony I had wrought from his feeble throat
I wish the world could hear my song
And throw roses at my feet as it sung all night long.

Why do you look pale
And tremble at my voice?
I think you hardly have heard such a thing as grand as mine
You don't speak
How so?
You must admit
I am a liberator and an avenger
And wound for red wound I will right these wrongs
But perhaps you are tired
And are wanting of rest
Such things I always think
So tell me, sweet spirit, would you care for a drink?
written during Regional Orchestra Auditions
maybe I was a bit stressed... who can say
Aug 2015 · 894
The Things That I Carry
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
I carry a backpack full of note books and my violin everyday to school
I carry a softball glove and a bat and the fear that I’ll have to use them again
I carry a flannel and apple scented lotion because it reminds me of her grace
and how I’ll never get to see her
I carry a cameo about my neck and they story I’ll never know behind it.
I carry sheet music and my drama script because I’ve yet to see those change.
I carry a friend who loves me and a friend who hates me and sometimes I don’t know which one I’m talking to
I carry two silver cups which are the only honour to my name
I carry the name of a boy who loved me, but I didn’t love him back
I carry old Latin books and the love I threw away
I carry music that I want to learn but will never have the time to
I carry audition results that made me lock myself in my room
I carry the lies upon lies that I told so I wouldn’t be disappointment
I carry my grades and the B that cast me from my parent’s grace
I carry a vase that I dropped and didn’t mind when the glass cut my feet
I carry scars from softball and how I was used as a punching bag and a pawn because I wouldn’t cry
I carry the love of a friend that I only knew for a week and the friendship that I wish I could still show her.I hope she sees this and I hope she knows that I could never hate her and was just too much of a coward to answer that message.
I carry the thought that she hates me now
I carry tears cried in my closet after I couldn’t figure out how to format a chemistry paper and wishing I would just die
I carry the humiliation I felt when all my friends got A’s on that paper and I barely managed a C
I carry the knowledge that one of my favorite teachers thinks I lied on a vocab quiz to gain half a point.
I carry the Wuthering Heights paper and how I worked so ******* hard to be .6 points away from an A.
I carry Linton’s fear and the knowledge that I was .6 points away from getting people to believe that our pain mattered.
I carry the fear that my best friend, the girl I love, is going to **** herself
and I’ll be left with old texts, a letter, and scars that will never heal
based off the first chapter of The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien which I highly recommend
Aug 2015 · 599
I Cried
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
I don’t believe we are evil
No matter what anyone could say
What crime have we committed,
But loving through the day.

What have we done, but sat and read
Thoughts lost in one another
Like cats you left us for the dead
Your words did **** my brother

You made us exiles of our own hearts
And expect we kneel and pray
What ever did we do
But loving through the day
flash poetry 7/7
Aug 2015 · 237
A Tree
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
There is a tree I see before me with branches made of bone
Twisting roots lay at my feet cracked as ancient steel
There is sickly wonder held within the shadowed, greying tone
I feel as though I would make an excellent final meal
flash poetry 6/7
Man, this one *****.
Aug 2015 · 397
A Starship is Flying
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
High above the clouds our ship does sail
Almost touching bright stars and silky moon
Our captain wears planets about his neck
And in the air there’s sort of a light and twisting tune
Of nebulas dying and stars being born
And mountains and craters, hewn
But there never was such a tale ever told
That struck my heart in two
flash poetry 5/7
Aug 2015 · 306
Foot Soldiers
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
We need to leave this place
To run from war scorched turf
To sow our salt laden fields
but what effective shackles are words
Our orders bind us, poor foot soldiers
To run is winter and frozen steal
And icy chains wrapped round my neck
to stay is warm blood,
cut from us by children even younger than we are
And burnt skin and blazing dust
I know which path I wish to take
But you did ever hate the cold
Flash Poetry 4/7
Aug 2015 · 367
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
Cut his throat and end his charm
Why should we live in fear?
The next day will dawn
And to the gallows we’ll be drawn
And then who could do us harm?
flash poetry 3/7
Aug 2015 · 371
April 21
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
Despite all outward appearances
It does no one any good to go yammering on
about how sardonically he laughed
and how much he cried
and how many words were spoken the next day
flash poetry 2/7
Aug 2015 · 558
The Apocalypse
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
We could tear the world asunder, you and I
Our footfalls echo thunderous across these marble walls
And we would watch, hand in hand
The cataclysmic falling of dawn
All red shadows and burning marble faces
For who but us could make the world blaze so bright
flash poetry 1/7
Aug 2015 · 299
The Overland
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
There is such a place that I can see
The sun’s bright tendrils touching me
There I’ll stay and there I’ll shine
And all the light of the world could be mine.

The only darkness lurking there
Is the sun caught in her raven hair
I wish the world could behold it’s shine
For it was ever more beautiful than mine

There are stars held in her ocean eyes
Warding off secret shadows that I despise
Not even tears could dull their shine
Though, her pain is also mine

Flowers deck her brow so bright
Heather and violets, to my delight
The sun, herself, she could outshine
And I know her love is mine

Her voice rings like crystal bells
To all the larks and doves it knells
Within her there is such a shine
I feel her heart does beat with mine
Aug 2015 · 448
To Hunter
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
Say but a few words and you’ll capture my heart

One word sets my face to smile
Two words sets my eyes alight
Three words make my world bright

I.      Love.     You.

It’s simple, right?
But never had I heard it when we were apart

And in the dream-lit air of night
I see you words and feel your light
I imagine you must be one of my sun-spun knights

I can sleep soundly and dream with delight
After talking to an angel all through the night
For what would I be without my crusader of light
Aug 2015 · 511
Caitlin Fisher Aug 2015
She is a constellation brought to life
Carved greek marble with a pulse running through her throat
Her tongue is clad with silver
Her hair shines bright as a sparrow’s feather
But when she bleeds
And oh, how she bleeds
Her blood runs red as any other’s

There are demons in this world, you see
Who know it’s easy for me
To mistake her smile for a sunrise
Spectors who seek to destroy such light
For who in the world is more beautiful that she?

I’d bind her heart with mine
To save her from the world’s spite
I’d breathe life into her lungs as if they were my own
Because no monster is as fearsome
As a world deprived of her grace
No beast could be as brutal
As a day without her heartbeat
For she is love, laughter, and goodness untainted
The dawn that rises radiantly
Over every day and daunting night
Dec 2014 · 444
The Exile
Caitlin Fisher Dec 2014
I left my sweetest soldier to go sailing across the sea
Though flowers bloomed and beetles buzzed
There I could not stand to be

I worked for hours on my island sitting in the west
Plucking feathers and butterfly wings for my king to see
Hypothetical horrors forever clawing at my chest

I received letters from my soldier when the sky was drenched with red
Written in her curled script and adorned in her family's crest
Though her words were gentle they did little to ease my dread

She told tales of made-up magpie dragons waiting at the harbor to whisk me away
Trying to plant seeds of shining thought into my shy head
But all I could see was the ragged beast turning towards his new prey

I sent letters back, of course, laden with pressed flowers
I hoped the goldenrod would reach her by the break of day
For I alone, it seemed, knew of its potential powers

She returned my nervous musings quickly, telling me to cease my fear
Saying that she and her knights were never ones to cower
Still, I wished so desperately that she was near

We exchanged our little letters for months on end
Until one day, things ceased to be so clear
That scratched script was not that of my beloved friend

She insisted it was, in many a letter
But for all her insisting, she could scarcely pretend
I knew her hands did not tremble so like aspen leaves blown by foul weather

I sent her Christmas roses that I knew she couldn’t resist
To catch her eye, I also sent her little white locks of heather
Though, I could only see the metal-forged fennel wrapped around her wrist

If she could hardly write on her own, how is she supposed to defend a king?
She'll try to lead her knights, regardless, and this time the enemy won't miss
Their hated blades will scar her shoulder with only a single swing

I could not think in the daytime and I could not sleep at night
My hands twisted in my sheets, fearing what news her next letter would bring
My mind only saw the beasts and berserkers that she would have to fight

Her letter did not come in the morning and it had not come by noon
I begged the empty air to tell me everything would be all right
But, my only companion in my panicked pacing was the slowly rising moon

It came when I watched butterflies, and I found I could no more pluck their wings for prizes
The writing was not hers and to this I could not attune
I only hoped the letter held no more dark surprises

“My Lady is ill,” or so it read
I scratch at my nails and bite my lips as my fear rises
“She wants to see that exile,” and so it said

I stared at the misplaced paper with the hated script
Though it was only parchment, it sat in my hands like lead
Through my wavering heart had the scribe’s words ripped

I wanted to send my letter quickly, praying I would not be too late
or, at least, I hoped, it would not see her in her crypt
A scribe’s reply was now the only thing I could await.

What traitorous gods tapped the poison from my mind and forced it down her throat?
I ran to the beach in search of some ship, my heart fluttering in a butterfly’s rate
How can I protect her with only the words that I wrote

I pushed through blackberry brambles that ripped my skin and hair
I wished no more to send her just one more final note
I reached the beach to see my soldier’s ship, but no fanfare

“Exile, come not nearer,” I heard the guard say
For all my troubles, I had thought, fate has hardly been fair
“We will take your letter and leave by close of day”

I saw the ship sail towards the sun, away to my friend who is ill
she will be okay
That’s what I tell myself, but some thoughts I can not ****
companion to The Knight
Dec 2014 · 3.5k
The Knight
Caitlin Fisher Dec 2014
My sweetest soldier left me and was dragged across the sea
My nights are now silent and my heart is drowned with fear
So, here I cannot stand to be

Through weary nights I held my guard
'till the stars came out to torment me
For, all the beauty of the night was now forever marred

My heart trembled with the candlelight
So I went to seek her chambers,but all was locked and barred
Even whispered words from my dear soldiers could do little to ease my fright

I wrote letters to my sweetest knight with sparkling, savage fury
I fought sleep away with every ounce of my might
Too soon, my hands and eyes grew weary

I filled my pages with stories of beasts we would nevermore fight
my eyes where too full of tears so I could not see clearly
I've lost my dearest companion and the bringer of my light

She sent letters back,of course, and they were wept over with many a tear
For a day, sprigs of goldenrod adorned my collar bright
for a day, at least, I forgot to think of fear

Then I had dreams of feathered serpents wrapped around her throat
her eyes were scratched out by hoary hell-kites and her heart was pierced with a spear
All my daylight hours, and all my nighttime too, to my knight I did devote

We continued writing letters and I lead my soldiers too
no one ever asked of what this did denote
'till fever caught me by my throat and threw my mind askew

My hands shook too violently and ink had streaked my page
In my letters, I tried so hard to have my pain seem subdued
My dear light-bringer needn't fear a fever's shallow rage

She saw through my ruse too quickly and I think she panicked more
I tried to calm her with winged words and locks of sage
I promised her there was a cure

My dreams were fueled by fire and the darkness lurking there
when I woke I fell sobbing to the freezing floor
She would have gathered me in her arms and kept me in her care

Beasts and berserkers set my night under siege
I could only see my sweetest knight scarred by bloodless warfare
Her spirit fell to the mercy of my new-found, thankless liege

My throat was streaked with clawing pain
cups of water I did beseech
bitter liquid assailed my body and bound my fate with chains

I saw my sweetest soldier and her hands skimmed through my hair
Her eyes shined like pearls which I hoped she would retain
Her kisses on my cheeks were so radiant and rare

I knew then never would we be apart
and in my chambers with the firelight there
I could rest with the keeper of my heart
Dec 2014 · 425
Last Words
Caitlin Fisher Dec 2014
Only the good die young
The horror the horror
So, that might not be true
Evil seems to die young too

'Tis the fault of Voltaire
I heard a child sing
As he ran into a flurry of ash whitened like snow
'Tis the fault of… (I don't know)

But, most die less heroically
And the most tragic of all
Me and you, who I hold so dear,
(Twenty lines are missing here)

And to think of dying once
Clutched in the arms of my dear friend
His eyes screaming sheer defiance
*The rest is silence
Oct 2014 · 594
The Death of the Absentee
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
The wind plays a haunting tone
It tells me that I’ll die all alone

Far from my friends
A breaths away from where they can no longer defend

My footsteps fall to the sound of guns
It’s too late to become undone

Shiny eyes watch me
The little, waiting absentee

With ****** wrists wrenched behind my back
Standing bound before a man on horseback

And a ***** rag covering his eyes
The absentees’ about to die

Long live France; Long live the future
And the flower falls to the shots of the shoo
based off a certain character death in Les Miz. Try and guess which one
Oct 2014 · 1.4k
The Siren's Song
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
Hush, dear hero, don’t say a word
Steer with my breath as the wind in your sails
Fall asleep dreaming worn out dreams
You’ll sail to a place called hell

Come, dear hero, blink not an eye
Over storming seas by and by
Drink my voice as honeyed wine
The rocks, your pillows, tonight

Rest your head, dear hero sweet
Let the music cloud your eyes
Hush, listen to my lullabies
Oct 2014 · 352
The Colors of Freedom
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
In the frost encrusted mountains where Alexander rode to conquest

Nineteen men in soldiers’ clothes burned in the name of bravery
And bravery alone

Nineteen starlit soldiers who should have lived to see their wives again
Nineteen shades of soldiers whose children should have seen them wrapped in their arms

Not a flag

The flag whose colors now are not of freedom
But if the sky, snow, and blood of the mountains
Oct 2014 · 1.1k
Hadrian on Antinous' Death
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
Forgive me, my love
I could only stand-horror struck
I watched, yet I didn’t, the crocodiles of the raging Nile maul your ****** corpse

My love, my love forgive me
That wretched day; that cursed hour, the very hour of our return
To see you breathe your last was akin to feeling a knife in my back
They had to hold me down
The hated guards who couldn’t save you

Forgive me, please, forgive me
I can do nothing more than carve your face into cold marble now

Antinous forgive me, forgive me please
I couldn’t save you; no one could

Antinous, forgive me
Oct 2014 · 4.4k
The Queen of Camelot
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
She was the queen of Camelot in her dreams
She wore a golden diadem and a silver swirling dress
Servants were at her beck and call
Her king was kind and brave and caring and noble
But when day broke she was a prisoner behind bars
Trapped in her bedroom
With only her dreams to comfort her
Oct 2014 · 1.1k
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
Baby boy in baby boots
Ruddy reddened caligae
On ruby crowned Caligula

He fills the shoes
Red shoes, blood shoes
Blood boots, blood red
(Too red) too well

Grow into your boots
Blood boots, blood shoes
Silk shoes, soft sheets

My sweetest son in soldier’s clothes
In army boots, with baby’s blood
In baby veins, in baby boots

My starlit son the demon king
In purple robes, stained amaranthine
Laurel crowned on merlot hair
On baby's head with baby's boots

My withered king, my sweetest son
In little boots with a baby's sword
Made Rome as red as his merlot hair
And amaranthine robes
And ruddy boots
Oct 2014 · 632
Wise Angels
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
Wise angels only hum and hide their wings
Watching silently from heaven of the trivial human things

They see us and they groan
Because we are doomed: everything is set in stone

Twisting an turning fate keeps us ever outside their hands
They stand on the shore of Rubicon but on the opposite side of the sands

They seek not a chisel or a knife to carve out our names
To erase us from the universe; to bathe us in flames

But they never seek to glorify the lives we live
They will watch us die

And though their cheeks be bathed with tears
For a little boy lost before his years

The threads of fate they dare not touch
The woven power is far too much

But instead they hum their soft sweet songs
Wondering if maybe the Fates were wrong

They feel remorse for the living but they care for the shades
Because each and every one of them have fought their own crusades

Wise angels’ eyes glisten with pent up grief
Because they can do nothing but shape our belief
Oct 2014 · 447
Achilles' Tears
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
How much more can these Trojan sands consume?
They have my honor, my armor ad the spear that I threw
My stricken comrades fight with bravery yet stand in their sorrow
Fearing the ashen spears will hit their mark tomorrow

The kindness of the Achaean camp is dead
And for such a crime I'll make these sands run red

My dearest comrade; my brother in arms
The sun god left me with mere memories of your charms

He ripped your own sweet life away
Like fog being dissipated by a bright shining ray

You were stripped and Hector had my blazing helm
The darkness that descended felt like it came from another realm

I spread ash on my face and defiled my hair with my hands
My clothes and hair were coated with the hated Trojan sands

Antilochus kneeled near weeping his proud heart out
Clutching my wrists for fear I would, with the iron blade, rip my throat out

My mother heard my try from the bottom of the sea
So, she came to camp to try to comfort me

She cradled my head in her hands, tears streaming down her face
I felt the skin I knew I’d never more embrace

My mother says I’m doomed to death by the brother of the one who stole your breath
Then let me die at once since it was not by fate to save my dearest comrade from his death

I could feel the anger bubbling inside me
I suppressed the urge to scream like a war torn banshee

No one could stop me from fighting; no one could persuade me now
To Hector’s greatness I soon began to disavow

I will go back to war with Hephaestus’ armor buckle to my back
I could all but hear the screams of the men I would soon attack

I will fight without the blazing armor
I will **** all those who oppose me down to the last lowly farmer

These sands give me no mercy
However there is no controversy

I will avenge your death; I must
You were the only one I could ever trust

Breathing room in war is all too brief
So I’ll make Hector’s blood stain every clover leaf

I lay my hands on your icy-cold chest
Everyone else will go unaddressed

I will not burn your honey-soft skin
Not till Hector has atoned for his sin

I try to clear your blood-clotted wounds
The thought of loosing you I could not attune

I killed Hector with my sword in his throat
But there is still more to you I could devote

A dozen Trojan sons , a snow white ox, and a lock of golden hair
This is cruel, cruel warfare

Your silver, glittering ghost spoke
I reached out to seize you but you disappeared in a whisp of smoke

I weep to these sands my ravaging tears
They are the epitome of my greatest fears
based on the Iliad and the death of Patroclus
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
Crumbling stone towers
And withering flowers
Stormy skies
Breaking my trust with all their lies

Racing through the Forum roads
With every breathing second breaking their code

Codes of ruling and giving
And living and loving

Black shadows with silvery daggers
Around my crimson lover, who staggers
His golden laurel crown
Clashes and clangs as it falls to the ground

How many throats have they slit?
Or poisons given?
Or pushed strong men past the bounds of heaven?

To dark and shadowy and desolate lands
Where light flys fleeting from open hands

It pains me now as I hear him scream
With an unearthliness that sounds like a dream
A horrible dream where things are
Nothing as they seem

His beautiful starry purple robes
Fall between the Tiber and a thorny rose

Yet somehow even as I see them make their mark
I believe in nothing but the beating of his heart
eighth grade was very much a poetry driven year, apparently
Oct 2014 · 513
What Do We Have To Fear?
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
What a world have we left behind?
Peace, prosperity, and security belong to people who lived ages and ages ago
We are left to work this dreary landscape
To sow our seeds in salt laden fields
We wander this world blind and deaf
And we see and hear none of the sufferings that plague the misfortunate
Yet we cling to our silence
But what do we have to fear?
We will all reach the golden gates of heaven
Not one of us can escape it’s pull
What do we have to fear?
Rise up my friends, and my enemies
Lift this shroud that covers our eyes and hides us from the true nature of the world
Peer into the shadows to see the oppressed
Help lift them from the ashes of their former lives
Take arms against the men with vile intentions
For words will not please their iron hearts
This is a war we must fight
We owe it to everyone we left waiting all those years ago
We are the brave and the courageous
And we will fight for those who need fighting for
for my eighth grade holocaust commission project. Needless to say, it didn't win.
Oct 2014 · 253
A Captive's Prayer
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
Freedom is ever such a fleeting thing
Find me now and hope, please bring

I’m nothing but a shadow now
No longer a silver diadem on my brow

Take me to a newfound savior
Who, I think, is infinitely braver

Take me to some sunny lands
And save me from these harsh hands

Take me to a place where I can roam
Or better yet, take me home

Take me to the hills of my birth
Not to those who I have to prove my worth

Save me from this cold hard stone
So I will never be alone
based off a line from Tamerlane
Oct 2014 · 1.7k
The Arms of a Starfish
Caitlin Fisher Oct 2014
Starfish are versatile
Humans are weak
Starfish have such a placid lifestyle
One of which we never speak

They are free to do as they please
Without rhyme or reason
Drifting through the seven seas
Never suffering such ****** treason

What kills us so violently
They survive
Our minds, traitors, stalking silently
They have none; so they thrive

What leaves us so broken
To the starfish is a game
But they don’t end up unbroken
For this they gain their fame

Like a little modern hydra
Of a less vicious sort
Loosing just a little paraphernalia
It’s arms the starfish must abort

A part of it that it that it looses
So that it could be free
All we humans are left with at bruises
Left by insecurity

Every day the starfish stars anew
Free from worry, free from woe
To such luxuries we bid adieu
And so we lead ourselves to the gallows

Yet not for one moment can we regret
Our greatest curse; our most beautiful blessing
We pay to this world a hight debt
A price we pay for all of our guessing

We claim to be free
But it's almost lie
In the harsh reality
We are free to live or die
This is from ages ago but I'm slowly working thorough all the poems in my note book.

— The End —