3 poems by Aiden Quinney

To The Man Who Holds My Heart

I watch you lead the knights to battle again.
A tear stings my cheek as I remember our youth,
taking that sword, you proved you were someone 
and you taught me an important truth.

You stumbled through the puzzle of a
crumbling nation. You always got back up,
showing me that failure was not falling.
Failure is staying down when I fall.

Your story got me lost in a dark forest of feelings.
I navigated that forest, I fell and fell,
I got back up each time, remembering
you would do the same.

I watch you stand against a knight of dread,
I know how your fight ends, it’s on the cover.
You face down that chilling specter, the tears
sting my face again, you can’t leave, I’m not
ready for an adventure without you.

I know you must go now, it’s on the cover.
Goodbye. And thank you, my dearest Arthur.





Thank You

The Reaper’s bitter hand
rests on my shoulder now
I can’t help but think back,
to all of its other frozen victims.

The Reaper is with me,
but he is not here for me.
He is here for the man upstairs,
The man who made me feel.

The man who raised me,
out of the deafening darkness,
and turned me into a man of my own.
I look to the Reaper’s cold visage.

Despite it, he is patient,
I’ve known this for a long time,
I smile at my father, holding his hand.
I can feel him slipping away.

I keep my smile.
I nod.
Thank you, I hear myself say.
Thank you. Both of you.




For The Audience

The snowstorm berates my body.
A fire chomps at my muscles.
Spiders in my throat, 
spinning a ball of silk.

What feels like the whole planet before me,
they mean me no harm, but,
their eyes are scalpels,
they cut me open, and see me for all I am.

I begin. I think, at least. I can’t hear anything.
I think the words are bubbling over the webs.
I hear whispers from nowhere that my words are wrong.
I ignore my ears; I leave myself exposed.

Let them cut me open and examine me.
If I can endure the war on my body.
and the spiders in my throat, I can brave the scalpels.
Writing something worthwhile requires persistence,
so does sharing it.

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Aiden Quinney is a short story writer who focuses on fantasy and science fiction but is also an amateur poet based in Ontario, Canada. He has had poetry previously published by the Topical Poetry magazine.