~Roskbalkir

Human. Probably.

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About Literature / Hobbyist Member Elke SkovgaardFemale/Ireland

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Four HorsemenFour Horsemen

My name is War, my hands are red
Like the mud where the soldiers fell down dead
My ears are ringing, my gaze is hard
My boots are laced with shrapnel shards

I am Pestilence, brother of Death
I speak every word with a racking breath
My lungs do bubble, my fever roars,
My skin is rife with weeping sores

Oh, I am Famine, and I ache
No wine or water my thirst can slake
The hunger has me in its grasp
No food my trembling fingers clasp

I am Death, my stride is long
I hear your final rattling song
One day come I, as cold as ice
For you were born and IÕm the priceFour Horsemen by ~Roskbalkir

11 Comments

Chapter 1The King’s Eyes

It came from somewhere in the sky. Higher than the dark woods, the moors and crooked mountains, higher even than the clouds. Here it was cold and dark and nothing moved. All was still. Still, that is, until the whole firmament seemed to hold its breath, and then let it go with a great shudder. It spat something out. Down the thing streaked, blazing, nearly as fast as light, but landed silently without even stirring the snow.
And then came a sound like sleet on rooftops. Almost as soon as it started it passed, but not before waking everything within leagues of where the thing had landed. Birds fell from the Chapter 1 by ~Roskbalkir

8 Comments

PreludePrelude

By the prickling of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open locks,
Whoever knocks!

Macbeth – 4.1

They say that darkness is merely the absence of light. Most often this is true, but the only rule about the truth is that there are times when it isn’t. This darkness far surpassed any other. It made the absence of light almost glow. This was the opposite of light; a weighty thing flowing, churning, coiled tight in its cage, and if you listened closely, it seemed to breathe. This darkness had life of its own devising.
It couldn’t think but it had a great hunger. For the first time, it could sensePrelude by ~Roskbalkir

6 Comments

The Loa LullabyWhat’s this I feel a-shinin’ ‘neath
My toes and nerves and blackened teeth?
Your tingling fear I reckon so
A writhing worm you’ve come to know

In your bower dreamin’ deep
The poppy singin’ you to sleep
But nightmares in the dark transpire
Glowin’ like St Elmo’s Fire

You got terrors, you got tremors
You got weird whispers in your mem’ries
So slumber, little Tricksy Bones
On ermine fur and sharp black stones

When then, my dear, it may seem grim
Slink back into your devil’s dim
And coilin’ fingers in the smoke
Your heavy eyelids fondly strokeThe Loa Lullaby by ~Roskbalkir

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London Calling

by ~Roskbalkir, Apr 4, 2013, 5:59:55 PM
Journals / Personal

Well.

For the Easter weekend I went to London to visit some friends and relatives. I had a wonderful time being absolutely lazy and eating delicious Indian food.

While I was there I decided to look for one of my favourite authors, Andy Stanton, but I sadly couldn't find him. My dog quite liked London, I suppose because of all the interesting smells. He even got to eat a bit of meat that fell out of someone's doner kebab.

I took so many photos, some of which I was hoping to post, but I wasn't being careful enough with my camera...

...and it met its soggy end in the Thames. Sigh. Ah well, c'est la vie. It was a pretty rubbish camera, anyway.

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Mood: Joy
Listening to: my dog barking at a squirrel
Reading: Macbeth!
Watching: Supernatural. Far too much.
Playing: with a pencil eraser
Eating: a perogie
Drinking: some sort of juice

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~Roskbalkir

Elke Skovgaard
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature

Ireland

Hello!
Bonjour!
Guten Tag!

I am small green monster who lives up a tree with a large Irish wolfhound. I write, sometimes. I try not to swear and to act like a civil human being. Cake, lurking, and imitating people are my favourite things, but I find texting, fake tans, and country music unbearable. I play the saxophone, the jaw harp and...the banjo!

Goodbye!
Au revoir!
Auf Wiedersehen!
Bless!