Lokasenna
02-25-2009, 12:49 PM
By the failing light of encroaching night,
The mutterers gather in sound,
And the leaden sky in a deadened eye,
Reflects with a power profound.
Through the skeletal trees the whirling breeze,
Blazes a life filled song,
And the turgid dirt of a world long hurt,
Is ignored by the general throng.
The tramping beat of their ignorant feet,
That know not love nor scorn,
Joins the empty speech from the depths of each,
That tremors a note forlorn,
A single word in the mind unheard,
That lies on the skin like moss,
While all about the earth sings out,
and all we talk is dross.
A short little something I penned yesterday in a mood of melancholy. I've wanted to try something with quite a bouncy rhythm for a little while now, and I think it interacts interestingly with the subject matter. As with anything, constructive criticism is much appreciated!
The mutterers gather in sound,
And the leaden sky in a deadened eye,
Reflects with a power profound.
Through the skeletal trees the whirling breeze,
Blazes a life filled song,
And the turgid dirt of a world long hurt,
Is ignored by the general throng.
The tramping beat of their ignorant feet,
That know not love nor scorn,
Joins the empty speech from the depths of each,
That tremors a note forlorn,
A single word in the mind unheard,
That lies on the skin like moss,
While all about the earth sings out,
and all we talk is dross.
A short little something I penned yesterday in a mood of melancholy. I've wanted to try something with quite a bouncy rhythm for a little while now, and I think it interacts interestingly with the subject matter. As with anything, constructive criticism is much appreciated!