Maximilianus
03-05-2012, 11:35 PM
We would tamely walk headlong into the night
Could we not remember dusks that yelled through white,
And only hear The Banshees' endless wailing,
Rebuffing angers' will for promptly sailing.
But today no lung knows restful breathing,
Neither shall there be a single hate at sheathing;
Today's the finest day for The Impaling.
Even through the shields completely shattered
Shall emerge a ram with gates to batter.
On a day when bells once loud no longer ding,
When throats ere voiced announce we cannot sing,
In the wake of The Unveiled by mist unknown,
It shall, that day, be day for wrath to spring;
To fling the rocks, the sheath, the blade, the hone.
And thus, through choking drafts, above, alone
A race restrings each severed string
And tunes regain their utmost tone.
I've been wondering if the above piece qualifies as a decent poem. The other day while I was working on an outer-space battle scene (digital artwork) it occurred to me that I wanted to accompany the resulting pictures with a piece of writing, and the above developed through a few revisits until I felt modestly satisfied. I intended to give it a tone as that of a dirge/battle cry. Following is the digital artwork that inspired the above lines. Perhaps unnecessary to view, but I thought it would be acceptable to post thumbnails, each being a link to a corresponding full size version:
http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af178/maxicastro/My%20General%20Artwork/th_Not-quietly-into-the-night.jpg?t=1329149880 (http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af178/maxicastro/My%20General%20Artwork/Not-quietly-into-the-night.jpg) http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af178/maxicastro/My%20General%20Artwork/th_Not-quietly-into-the-night-part-2.jpg?t=1330573855 (http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af178/maxicastro/My%20General%20Artwork/Not-quietly-into-the-night-part-2.jpg)
Could we not remember dusks that yelled through white,
And only hear The Banshees' endless wailing,
Rebuffing angers' will for promptly sailing.
But today no lung knows restful breathing,
Neither shall there be a single hate at sheathing;
Today's the finest day for The Impaling.
Even through the shields completely shattered
Shall emerge a ram with gates to batter.
On a day when bells once loud no longer ding,
When throats ere voiced announce we cannot sing,
In the wake of The Unveiled by mist unknown,
It shall, that day, be day for wrath to spring;
To fling the rocks, the sheath, the blade, the hone.
And thus, through choking drafts, above, alone
A race restrings each severed string
And tunes regain their utmost tone.
I've been wondering if the above piece qualifies as a decent poem. The other day while I was working on an outer-space battle scene (digital artwork) it occurred to me that I wanted to accompany the resulting pictures with a piece of writing, and the above developed through a few revisits until I felt modestly satisfied. I intended to give it a tone as that of a dirge/battle cry. Following is the digital artwork that inspired the above lines. Perhaps unnecessary to view, but I thought it would be acceptable to post thumbnails, each being a link to a corresponding full size version:
http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af178/maxicastro/My%20General%20Artwork/th_Not-quietly-into-the-night.jpg?t=1329149880 (http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af178/maxicastro/My%20General%20Artwork/Not-quietly-into-the-night.jpg) http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af178/maxicastro/My%20General%20Artwork/th_Not-quietly-into-the-night-part-2.jpg?t=1330573855 (http://i1005.photobucket.com/albums/af178/maxicastro/My%20General%20Artwork/Not-quietly-into-the-night-part-2.jpg)