MetaHamster
08-09-2011, 08:28 AM
Hey. These are the first works I've shared on this site, and the 1st and 3rd poems I've ever written. They are rather different, in both tone, and style. I hope you'll like them, and I will appreciate any advice you can give.
They are unnamed.
Oh, and to avoid any potential problems, I'd like to note that any opinions that appear in these poems are not necessarily my own.
The moon lulls us into slumber,
Ash and timber we let lie.
But though by oblivion humbled,
The woods permit a certain sigh
From a night black with purpose
Blooms a bud of yellow grey.
It shines as though malefic,
Filled with life be though it may
It soon grows and flowers,
In the way described by law,
Whilst in its wake we cower,
Hunched shadows against the snow.
It soon engulfs the entrenched
Denizens of the abyss, and
In molten jaws as though clenched
It disfigures the stars
Birch and willow kneel before it,
Their boughs are wreathed in fairy light.
Terror sparks a hundred heartbeats.
Creaking, we are all dressed in night.
Like a hungry beast it rushes,
Sparked by the ill of men and gods.
A revenge unmerited,
Executed upon this night
In the thousands that mingle, there can be seen
A purpose, perhaps the will of some glorious machine
That plows, that scours, and razes the land
That builds great things upon arid sand
Powerful senses driven by a razor-sharp mind
Seek math, truth, and knowledge; beauty refined
To build, and improve; to grow things, and fly;
But for others, to live without thought is to die
There are towers here, castles and spires;
All these are bastions to the analytical fires
But they belie the beating heart of it all,
The eternal question; the rational call.
For some spin words into crazed spirals,
While others might run a thousand miles.
Many have sprawling stories to tell,
But we are those who in knowledge revel.
We have no ranks; we claim no land, or concession
All we require is a grain of thought; a modicum of passion
To question first, second and third,
The things we all know, the things you’ve just heard.
They are unnamed.
Oh, and to avoid any potential problems, I'd like to note that any opinions that appear in these poems are not necessarily my own.
The moon lulls us into slumber,
Ash and timber we let lie.
But though by oblivion humbled,
The woods permit a certain sigh
From a night black with purpose
Blooms a bud of yellow grey.
It shines as though malefic,
Filled with life be though it may
It soon grows and flowers,
In the way described by law,
Whilst in its wake we cower,
Hunched shadows against the snow.
It soon engulfs the entrenched
Denizens of the abyss, and
In molten jaws as though clenched
It disfigures the stars
Birch and willow kneel before it,
Their boughs are wreathed in fairy light.
Terror sparks a hundred heartbeats.
Creaking, we are all dressed in night.
Like a hungry beast it rushes,
Sparked by the ill of men and gods.
A revenge unmerited,
Executed upon this night
In the thousands that mingle, there can be seen
A purpose, perhaps the will of some glorious machine
That plows, that scours, and razes the land
That builds great things upon arid sand
Powerful senses driven by a razor-sharp mind
Seek math, truth, and knowledge; beauty refined
To build, and improve; to grow things, and fly;
But for others, to live without thought is to die
There are towers here, castles and spires;
All these are bastions to the analytical fires
But they belie the beating heart of it all,
The eternal question; the rational call.
For some spin words into crazed spirals,
While others might run a thousand miles.
Many have sprawling stories to tell,
But we are those who in knowledge revel.
We have no ranks; we claim no land, or concession
All we require is a grain of thought; a modicum of passion
To question first, second and third,
The things we all know, the things you’ve just heard.