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Jordan D. River

@jordanriverwrites.bsky.social

1.2K followers 1.1K following 1.2K posts

Poet/Author. Game/Book reviews. I love feedback! Please! I write short stories and novel mostly in verse across genre, but typically horror adjacent. Check media tab for latest from me. https://jordanrivertales.wordpress.com

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Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 4d

#WIP #Poetry
#TreasureIsland A Rhythmic Voyage
Third Movement, The Island Cleaves
Interlude

Jim at 14, reflects on the journey so far and introduces the Doctor's tale of the shipboard mutiny.

Treasure Island A Rhythmic Voyage by J.D. River
Third Movement The Island Cleaves
Interlude
1/2

I didn't know then what Ben's cave would mean—
that treasure scattered like seeds of grief
would root in each of us, unseen,
and choke whatever we believed.

I thought the gold was simply gold,
that maps were just lines on a page.
But curses don't need to be told—
they write themselves in blood and age.

I thought the sea held only light—
no secrets churned in its deep heart.
I never guessed what tides rewrite,
or what they tear, or pull apart.

It wasn't just the pirate's face
or blood, or guns, or buried greed.
It was the way that trust misplaced
can twist to hunger, clot to need.

I saw the Squire lose his mask—
the smile he wore back in the lane.
I saw the Captain drop his task
and wonder if command meant pain.

I saw the Doctor watch a man
go mad with thirst beside the mast—
and though he knelt, and worked, and ran,
there was no way to change the past.

Two years have passed since then. Two years.
The Doctor says that words can heal—
that setting down what happened here
might ease the weight I've learned to feel.

I don't know if that's true. I know
that some nights still I wake and see
poor Tommy's eyes, still wide and slow—
or hear the tap that followed me.

But this I try: to trace the line
from boy to—what? Not man. Not yet.
Just someone who can read the signs
that younger Jim had never met.

But here's the part I didn't see—
the hours when I fled from shore,
the Doctor fought. The Squire. Redruth.
While I hid with Ben's strange truth.

I didn't know that men had died.
I didn't know the fort was won
by inches, blood, and stubborn pride—
before I ever saw the sun
rise over walls they'd built at night,
while Silver hunted, rage-made blind.
I thought myself the only fight—
but left my brothers far behind.

Treasure Island A Rhythmic Voyage by J.D. River
Third Movement The Island Cleaves
Interlude
2/2

I didn't know that men had died.
I didn't know the fort was won
by inches, blood, and stubborn pride—
before I ever saw the sun
rise over walls they'd built at night,
while Silver hunted, rage-made blind.
I thought myself the only fight—
but left my brothers far behind.

The Doctor told me, days from then,
what happened while I ran and hid.
He didn't judge. He just said, "Jim,
You'll want to know what each man did."

What follows here, the Doctor wrote—
or spoke, and I've set down his words.
The voice will change. You'll hear his note:
more measured, calm, precisely heard.

He speaks of siege and fire and loss,
of men who held when hope ran thin.
He speaks of Silver's final toss—
the moment when the war begins.

And when he's done, you'll find me there:
a boy who'd fled, now coming home—
around the fort's rough-timbered square,
no longer quite so scared, alone.

The Doctor speaks. I step aside.
This movement closes with his view:
of how the loyal fought and died,
and what they feared I wouldn’t do.

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Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 12m

#Translation #Poetry #german #Collapse #freeverse
Rathenau - Kurt Tucholsky June, 1922
Translated J.D. River
Read back for history.

Rathenau - By Kurt Tuchovsky June 1922
English Translation by J.D. River
1/2

**Rathenau**

You're used to it by now!
You know what it's like
when your young German nationalists pull something off.
They shoot. Karlchen Helfferich sneers.
That’s been your politics for years—
you Republic!

You're practiced in it, young lady!
The funerals glide from your hands with ease.
Protests shriek. Obituaries drone.
And afterward, you’re just as clueless as before.

How long will you keep watching Helfferich?
That same one, who from Moscow, during the putsch,
slid home with soiled pants,
has now driven a second man, unavenged, to the grave—
with curses, with speeches.
And while an old mother trembles,
that man sits in Parliament. And lives.

It wasn’t the first time!
You hear the party bigwigs in the Reichstag, in the Landtag,
screaming: “This can’t go on! A scandal!”
Was it the last time?

Just once—rise up!
Smash your fist down on the table!
Don’t fall back asleep in fourteen days!

Out with your monarchist judges,
with officers—and with the scum
that lives off you, yet sabotages you,
that paints swastikas on your houses.

Smash the secret leagues to bits!
Bind Ludendorff’s and Escherich’s hands!
Don’t let the Reichswehr mock you—
it must learn to accept the Republic.

Strike! Strike! Grab them hard!
They all flinch. Because there’s no man.
There are only snipers. Grab them tight—
your house will burn if you let it smolder now.

Rathenau - By Kurt Tuchovsky June 1922
English Translation by J.D. River
2/2

Tear apart the nooses of legal paragraphs.
Don’t fall into them. It must succeed!
Four years of murder—by God, that’s enough.
You stand before your final breath.
Show what you are. Judge yourself.
Die or fight! There is no third way.

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 12m

If there are any native German speakers among my readers, let me know if I deserved a C.

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 12m

I did check my original homework translation from double digit years ago against an online translator and I think my choices are superior. I remember I got a C on the translation because my German teacher had the heart of a poet - on her desk in a jar. Humorless.

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 12m

I sacrificed his form (end rhyme couplets mostly) for freeverse as translation is difficult enough. Trying to recast his lines into English rhymes tended to undercut the poem in this case so I abandoned that attempt.

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 12m

and could turn off a modern reader who doesn't want to figure out who the pants shitter is. This is a poem of warning from within a collapse. Poets often see it first. Tucholsky probably saw the assassination as a turning point and proof the Republic was being murdered in slow motion. Relevant.

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 12m

way back in a university German class as an assignment. Earlier this year I added it to my revision pile to clean up the freeverse (original is actually AABB but thats German for you). The references inside the poem date it to a very certain point in time…

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 12m

In 1922 Kurt Tucholsky, a Weimar Republic journalist, poet and satirist, was a witness to his country's collapse. He wrote this poem after 4 years of political violence on the occasion of a political assassination of an opposition leader. I did my original translation of this…

Reposted by Jordan D. River

Mo Moshaty @momoshaty.bsky.social · 1d

My horror collective @nyxhorror.bsky.social is happy to announce an incredible opportunity for horror writers: in partnership w/ Stowe Story Labs, one woman-identifying writer w/ a horror feature or TV pilot will receive a full Fellowship to the June Narrative Lab.
Apply here 👇🏾
bit.ly/NarrativeLabs

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Reposted by Jordan D. River

Rough Diamond Poetry @rough-diamond1.bsky.social · 1d

We are open for submissions for our Poems for Protest anthology AND we are open for The Rough Diamond Poetry Prize #poetry #poetrycommunity #WritingCommunity

roughdiamondpoetry.com

Rough Diamond Poetry

This site is solely for poetry - poetry in any form and on any subject. We love it all!

roughdiamondpoetry.com

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Reposted by Jordan D. River

D.N. Schmidt, sci-fi novelist🪐📚 @dnschmidt.com · 2d

Fun Fact:

Very few dragonflies can actually breathe fire, but they keep trying anyway. It's inspiring, really. Dream big, little dragonfly, dream big.

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Reposted by Jordan D. River

Phenomena Press @phenomenapress.bsky.social · 2d

So, if you have a story with paranormal elements starring asexual, aromantic, and aspec characters, we want to see it!

We'd love to see some more stories that explore the unexplained from different lenses

All the details can be found here: paranormal-aspecs.carrd.co

Aspec Paranormal Anthology

An open call for aromantic and asexual paranormal short stories

paranormal-aspecs.carrd.co

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Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 3d

Technological progress has merely provided us with more efficient means for going backwards. — Aldous Huxley

Reposted by Jordan D. River

Septimus Brown @septimusbrown.com · 4d

YOU DESERVE A LAUGH

You don't have to be Canadian to appreciate this book, but it will help if you're not a MAGA 😅

A fantasy satire inspired by the US-Canada trade war!

mybook.to/dragoneggs

Book Cover: We've Come for Your Eggs (And Other Reasons to Annex the North)

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Reposted by Jordan D. River

Paul Deane @rhunedhel.bsky.social · 4d

Now that the current issue is out, here's the next open call for submissions for alliterative poetry.

Psalms and meditations ...

alliteration.net/info/call-fo... #submissionscall #alliteration #poetrysky #poetrycommunity

Call for Submissions, Issue 8

Submit your alliterative poems to Forgotten Ground Regained by January 1

alliteration.net

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Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 4d

#WIP #Poetry
#TreasureIsland A Rhythmic Voyage
Third Movement, The Island Cleaves
Interlude

Jim at 14, reflects on the journey so far and introduces the Doctor's tale of the shipboard mutiny.

1 4

Reposted by Jordan D. River

Paul Deane @rhunedhel.bsky.social · 5d

New alliterative poem by @dacooperpoet.bsky.social:

www.dialoguejournal.com/articles/bir... #alliterative #poetry #poetrylovers #poetrycommunity #alliterativeverse

Birding at the Lake - Dialogue Journal

A pod of pelicans patrols the shore like angels guarding the gates of heaven.

www.dialoguejournal.com

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Reposted by Jordan D. River

Strider Marcus Jones @stridermarcusjones.bsky.social · 4d

masticadorescanada.wordpress.com/2025/10/20/i...

I LOOK THROUGH PIXEL STARS, by Strider Marcus Jones

ensconced in your topiary vegetation,with the u voweland tongue trowelquickening sensation,trickles down the eavesmorphia poches,and smokes through notesof cuddled conversation-try to pin me down,y…

masticadorescanada.wordpress.com

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Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 5d

In honor of National Eat The Rich month I've spent exactly $25.99 over and above what was absolutely necessary to pay the bills. I cancelled Netflix, my Amazon account will not renew in December and I've subscribed to The Guardian sending the print copy to my library. What are you doing to end them?

Reposted by Jordan D. River

Haven Spec Magazine @havenspec.bsky.social · 10d

Our general submission window will open on the first of the month!

We want stories and poetry with a strong voice and a sense of adventure, stuff that makes us feel things, stuff that lets us use our hearts and our brains and leaves us wanting more!

Guidelines & schedule:
www.havenspec.com/submit/

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Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 6d

Here it is! An experiment in a very difficult format, published by Forgotten Ground Regained. I didn't quite manage to meet the form 100%, but the tale is awesome and yes, the lines do sing. Thank you @rhunedhel.bsky.social

Paul Deane @rhunedhel.bsky.social · 6d

Another poem in the current issue of Forgotten Ground Regained is @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social's "Song-Hall of the Bone-Mother", a bit of fantastic horror featuring a cursed hall and a bard who is never allowed to stop singing.

alliteration.net/poetry/song-... #alliterative #poetry #horror #sff

Song-Hall of the Bone-Mother, a poem in alliterative verse by Jordan D. River

... No gate-ward greeted, no guard gave cry; / the wall stood wide · to winter’s breath. / Bone-seat bore · the Bride of Snow, / mantled in mist · and moonlit thread ...

alliteration.net

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 6d

Hey! That's me! Two of my poems, a persona poem called Voice of the Wendigo, and a mythic Creed of the Wendigo. I am so honored to be published in Lothlorien!

Lothlorien Poetry Journal @lothlorienpoetryj.bsky.social · 6d

lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/2025/10/two-...

Two Poems by J.D. River

Lothlorien Poetry Journal Edited by Strider Marcus Jones Poet - Publishes poetry and fiction online and in print periodically. https://lothlorienp

lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com

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Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 7d

Sorry this canto took so long. I had to start a new temporary job last month to get some cash flowing in again and its taken all of my brain power.

I'm planning the Interlude, then the Doctor's Passage next to end the third movement.

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 7d

5th page of the 16th Canto. Scroll back in thread for previous pages.

Treasure Island A Rhythmic Voyage
Third Movement
Passage 8
Canto 16 The Boy who returns
5 of 5

We skirted swamp and mangrove root,
the air grew thick with salt and mud.
My heart felt high, my body ready—
with purpose gained from all we spoke.

Then, through the palms, a color flared,
a square of red the island wore.
A sight more strange than all I'd seen—
a flag of home above the shore.

A Union rag, stiff in the air,
it snapped once bright above the bark.
Smoke rose, a thin white line, from where
a stockade stood against the dark.

“Flint’s fort,” Ben whispered, eyes gone wide.
“Safe walls inside
for who still abide.
They've found the place.
Jim's folk are there.
Jim has to stride.”

I saw the smoke, the mended gun—
the loyal fight had now begun.
My hiding time, my flight was through—
the only road was sharp and true.

Ben gripped my wrist, his voice turned low:
“Go now, Jim.
Now’s time to show
Jim's loyal deed,
Jim's steady hand.
Folk need your heart
to guard their stand.”

“Remember now:
ship must drift.
Canoe's near, a final gift.
When Jim returns,
when Jim is done—
Ben asks for cheese,
and English sun.”

“A piece of apple
sweet and red
to make Ben think
of home instead.
A simple thing,
a small soft plea—
To prove Jim’s friend
and set Ben free.”

He pressed a smooth shell in my palm—
A tiny weight, a quiet charm.
"Keep this close
when shadows fall—
Ben's with Jim
through it all."

He melted back—a streak of clay.
I watched him fade and slip away
then turned towards the fort once more
to skirt the wall that lay before.

Jordan D. River @jordanriverwrites.bsky.social · 7d

#WIP #Poetry
#TreasureIsland A Rhythmic Voyage
Third Movement, Passage 8, Canto 16 The Boy Who Returns

After a healing night, Jim wakes and makes the decision to return to the fight. (5 pages, so 2 posts.)

Treasure Island A Rhythmic Voyage
Third Movement
Passage 8
Canto 16 The Boy who returns
1 of 5

Ben stirred the coals with practiced hand,
The smoke rose blue through morning's band.
Then milked the goat with crooning song.
His bare feet knew the hidden land—
Each root a friend, each stone well-found.

He hummed some tune of home and sea,
Part shanty, part mad history—
The goat bleated, the fire hissed—
As if his voice could only be
What island years had carved from he.

The goat's milk warmed against my hand,
But still I saw the muddy sand.
Poor Tommy's eyes, wide, still, and red—
I should have warned him. He is dead.

And Jack—he saw the brutal stroke—
The final lie that Silver spoke.
Will he now kneel? Will he now turn?
The thought of Jack began to burn.

“Dreamt of home?” Ben said, half-smile.
“Ben dreams of cheese
and island trees”
I found my tongue; I did not lie—
“I go back, Ben.
I have to try.”

“I can’t just hide,” I told him then,
“The ship may stand or fall again.
The Doctor waits, the Squire too—
I’ve friends to find and work to do.”

"Ben," I said, my throat gone tight,
"There's one thing more that they all fight
for—something worse than gold or crew—"

Ben's eyes went sharp: "Jim knows, then?
You have the thing?
The thing that Silver seeks?
The reason red
runs down these creeks?"

I nodded once. "The Fist. It's mine—
Or hidden where I climbed the line.
High in the crow's nest, wrapped and sealed—
A thing too cursed to be revealed."

His eyes went wide, then soft, then clear—
"Jim trusts Ben?
Shares his fear?
No man's done that
in three long years.
Jim's brave to tell,
braver to keep—
Silver hunts it,
hunts in sleep."

"Flint would kill
for half as much—
Silver'd kill
for just a touch.
Jim guards death
in oilskin tight—
Worth more than all

Treasure Island A Rhythmic Voyage
Third Movement
Passage 8
Canto 16 The Boy who returns
2 of 5

of Flint's dark might."

"The ship then, aye—
Must go back there.
Climb the mast,
Through Silver's stare.
Fetch the Fist,
Then bring to shore—
Jim needs it,
needs it more."

We walked the gullies choked with fern,
The sun a blade through leaves that burn.
“Flint was mad,” said Ben, “But plain—
Silver smiles,
hides his chain.
Flint slew quick;
pain was done.
Silver’s gift?
calls you son.”

“Gold he wants, aye—
not to spend.
Power he seeks,
that’s his end.
Map shows where,
but not the way—
Log keeps the curse
and key at bay.”

"The Captain warned of Flint's cruel art—
Said dead men guard each treasure part."
Ben laughed, a sound both high and mad:
"Drunk men dig
and bury bad!
Traps need care,
need sober hands—
Flint's crew just dug
in shifting sands."

"Tide came in,
tide washed away—
Holes collapsed
the second day.
Jungle grows,
jungle hides—
Better than all
of Flint's dead guides."

We pressed through ferns that brushed my face,
Ben cleared the path with practiced grace.
"Your folk," he said, "some wait for you?
But is there one who waits most true?"

I thought of Doctor's steady hand,
Of Redruth's watch, his rifle's stand.
But then—a flash, a hearth, a door—
"My mother waits upon the shore."

Ben stopped and turned, his eyes gone soft—
"Your mother lives?
Ben thought her lost.
Most mothers gone,
fade or die—
Jim's mother strong?
She makes Jim cry?"

"Not cry," I said, though throat felt tight,

Treasure Island A Rhythmic Voyage
Third Movement
Passage 8
Canto 16 The Boy who returns
3 of 5

"Just—ache, I think, both day and night.
The Benbow burned. My father died.
She stayed alone with ash and tide."

"The Squire swore he'd build it back,
But only if—" my voice went slack.
Ben finished soft, "If gold be found.
Your mother's fate,
treasure-bound."

I nodded once, the weight pressed down—
"She thinks I'm safe in Bristol town,
Aboard a ship with gentlemen fine,
Not running from a killer's line."

Ben sat upon a fallen log,
His face half-hid by morning fog.
"My mother made me goat-milk cheese,
And sang me songs beneath the trees.

"A cottage small, with chickens near,
Ben fetched the water, calm and clear.
She kissed my head each morning bright—
Then Flint's black ship came in the night."

His voice had dropped its singing tone,
For just this once, he spoke alone:
"She screamed. I heard it from the hold.
They laughed and said she'd soon grow cold.

"Three years Ben's wondered—does she weep?
Or did the grief just steal her sleep?
Does she still wait beside the door,
Or did she know Ben was no more?"

I gripped his arm, no words would come—
What could I say? The harm was done.
But Ben just smiled, a broken thing,
"That's why Jim goes,
where free birds sing."

"Jim's mother waits,
Jim can save—
Can bring her gold
from Flint's dark grave.
Ben's mother lost,
but Jim's remains—
Worth all the blood
and all the pains."

"She'll ask about the voyage, Ben—
About the crew, the ship, the men.
How can I tell her what I've seen?
The blood, the lies, the space between?"

"Tell her truth,
but tell her small—
She needn't know the worst of all.
Tell her Jim learned
to tie a knot,
And found a friend
when hope was not."

"Tell her Ben says: 'Jim's a son
Worth more than all
that Flint has done.'
And tell her—" here his voice went thin,
"Mothers' love
is where we begin."

Treasure Island A Rhythmic Voyage
Third Movement
Passage 8
Canto 16 The Boy who returns
4 of 5

"I swear it, Ben—I'll find my way
Back to her side, back to her door.
Your mother's lost, but mine can stay—
I'll make it right. I swear once more."

We walked in silence for a space,
The jungle sounds took sorrow's place.
But something shifted in my chest—
A reason now to do my best.

Not gold, not glory, not the Squire's demand—
But to return to her warm hand.
To tell her: "Mother, I came home.
Not rich, but whole. No more to roam."

Beneath the palms the pirates lay,
Like broken dolls, their wits astray.
“Silver’s kingdom,” Ben half-spat,
“A crown of flies,
A drunken mat.
Dreams of gold,
But drink their fill—
sea will take
when it will.”

I counted men, then turned to Ben.
"The ship's still moored beyond the fen.
If I could reach her—cut the line—
One rope, one chance, no signal sign—
She’d sail away. The ship be mine!”

Ben grabbed my arm, his grip like wire—
"Jim's mad with courage,
Brave with fire!
But Jim—one boy,
one ship, one rope?
That's not courage—
that's just hope!"

"Ship needs hands,
needs twenty strong—
Jim would drown
before too long.
Better plan:
cut her loose,
let wind decide
her final use."

"Don't sail her, Jim—
just set her free!
She'll drift away
from pirate's plea.
Then Jim climbs down,
comes back to shore—
Alive to fight
another war."

"Ben's canoe," he said with pride,
"Sits beached just past
the fort's south side.
Carved it slow from fallen tree,
Three moons work
now it's free.
Rows like leaf,
but holds a man—
take it, Jim, for your plan."

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Reposted by Jordan D. River

C. Oulens @owlnsquirrels1111.bsky.social · 9d

For today’s #vss365 sharing my poem “Seen #Unseen“ that won this year’s “Annual Poe-It Like Poe” poetry contest awarded by “The Six Degrees of Edgar Allan Poe”. The poem’s a #shovel after Poe’s “Alone”, which is one of my personal favourites. #Oulens #blueskypoets
#poetrycommunity #poems #poetry

A screenshot of the winning poem…
It can be accessed through the following link:

https://sixdegreesofpoe.com/poe-it-like-poe-contest-winners

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