Congratulation, fifth. It is a fine poem.
Congratulation, fifth. It is a fine poem.
"The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
"Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka
I don't often come to this thread so I missed this fine poem until now, but I love the evocativeness of it and the economy. The reference to willows could not but remind me of this spontaneous quatrain my grandson, 4 or 5 at the time, addressed to his 2-years younger sister:Originally Posted by qimissung
I love you more than a fish.
I love you more than a cornstalk.
I love you more than a willow
floating on a mud pool.
Congratulations, fifth!
Erm, regarding the quatrain-- no meter I hope?
.
...the smell of flowers through metal labyrinths.
Oh no, I think you've probably got your hands full with the rhyming scheme, adding meter would be cruel...erm, on second thoughts...no, only kidding! No metrical rules apply.Erm, regarding the quatrain-- no meter I hope?
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Yes, I would like to try. Thank you!
I'm in love with The Vinegar Man and Mr. Tanner, but be careful, it could just as easily be you.
"If you're going to write you better have somewhere to come from." Flannery O'Connor
I'm in. I haven't written anything in ages. I need to start again.
LET THERE BE LIGHT
"Love follows knowledge." – St. Catherine of Siena
My literature blog: http://ashesfromburntroses.blogspot.com/
Thank you Prince. I think I like your grandson's best!
"The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
"Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka
Yes, I know it is long, but you can blame that on Fifth. LOL I kid, but as soon as Fifth brought it up, I had to make the challenge, and take this thing all the way to z.
My Lover in the Night
Darkness came upon my soul
into the shadows we stole
to ride upon the tides of night,
my troubled dreams the reaper will console.
Cast beneath pure moonlight,
may her silver highness grant insight,
before the wind bores me away,
and on my dark horse I hold tight.
I hear the whispers of the fay,
for a moment in my saddle sway,
where we descend to the world of dreams,
dazzled I watch in dismay.
There a distant castle gleams
the ruins of ancient regimes,
among fallen pillars I walk,
and listen to caressive streams.
And above a majestic flock
summoned by the wizard's clock,
to breathe this sweet still air
that speaks of a far away dock.
For a tinge of salt lingers there,
let us attend the spirits fair,
already their haunted lutes begun,
in this masquerade of the dead we'll share.
Around the fire we are spun
in the ceremony of the pagan
this is the winking witching hour
cackling in our macabre fun.
Strong are the threads of power
drawing us now to the marble tower,
from the ghoulish party we depart,
crossing through the mystic shower.
Here now a shudder in my heart,
awestruck by this realm I became apart
where I wander with my worthy guide,
how I'll mourn when we must depart.
To him my secrets I confide,
he takes my hand and sets our stride
to find ourselves within a dark hall
where lonely echoes seem to glide.
Faces shimmer upon the wall
and take up their desperate call
for we have found the corridor of the lost,
soundlessly they forever fall.
This threshold swiftly crossed
less my own soul suffer great cost,
now before us a lake of stars
where all forgotten wishes are gently tossed.
Shadows of the trees make foreboding bars
reminiscent of fading scars
and I feel a growing sorrow,
this precious moment forever ours.
But this time I had to borrow
and now there comes a new tomorrow
already the sun begins to rise
amongst a filed of pungent yarrow.
So I look darkness in the eyes
ever the reaper did well advise,
painful is our leave taking
as we ascend back into the skies.
Yet ever I feel the dull aching
certain my heart is breaking
stoically he gives me a hush
while in death's arms I am quaking.
A touch of his cold lips brush
and then we are off in a rush
this dreamland left far behind
and I in full flush.
Now ever with shadows my soul entwined,
for the memories never shall unwind,
as the world comes back upon me
someday again each other we'll find.
Never again can I be free
as you carry me across the sea,
and all too soon in my bed I sleep
wishing we stood beneath the willow tree.
And until the morning I do weep
when at last the light begins to creep
I waken with a sense of wonder
for a secret I will always keep.
Yet ever more torn asunder
in my mind rolls a distant thunder,
to spend my days in an outward gaze,
surely I fear I will sink under.
For lost within this haze
wishing once more for your surreal maze
I call into the night for your return
for you have set something inside me ablaze.
Over a thousand eternities I would yearn
while my soul continues to burn
for you were my otherworldly lover
and that I could never spurn.
Let us once again secret worlds discover
while beneath her dark majesties cover,
for as I lay me down again to bed I pray
that your mysteries I will once more uncover.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ~ Edgar Allan Poe
OMGOSH!!! Dark Muse! That is amazing. I am ashamed to even pick up my pencil now. You are truly amazing and skilled. I am still taken back by your poem. Well done Dark Muse, well done.
No matter what lies beyond the horizon, you can always find a guiding light.
Thank you very much
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ~ Edgar Allan Poe
Woowee!!!! Thanks for getting us off to a cracking start DM
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Ut Nex
I feel Death stare at me with fiery eyes,
I should be, but I am not surprised—
That bony hand has long reached for me
Clasped in its fingers a bloody scythe…
What will I be when at long last I die,
Cast off my shell, this earthly disguise
Can someone out there please tell me?
There are no seers among the wise…
But pass I shall, no pathway goes otherwise,
Clasp hands with Father Death, say my goodbyes—
And who among you shall mourn me?
Or just say “Good riddance to that guy…
Pendragon
7/9/09
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
Yipee! And now we have a contest! Thank you kindly, Pendragon.
Want to know what I think about books? Check out https://biisbooks.wordpress.com/
Andromache sing us your lament
Beloved son tossed from high battlement
Husband thrice dragged dead around Troy's wall
Yourself weepingly to slavery sent
Of those fates sealed at Troy's fall
Yours is worst but none recall
Songs of Deeds are what we sing
No epics for the weak or small
But those who've grieved because a king
Brought swarm of war for some trifling
Can't have hearts or backs unbroken
So what good can a poem bring
Works of art are but poor token
For all the tales left unspoken
Of those who did not do but were done to
Silent ghosts best left unwoken
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
El adjetivo, cuando no da vida, mata- Huidobro
Chocolate is as chocolate does
Dizzy sees as busy was
If I lost my breath today
I'd feel at ease still just because
Watch your weight is what they say
Cultivate health and hit the hay
The object is not an ego trip
But to rid your world of decay
Eager to take any tip
And to avoid voyeurship
The subject hosts their own parade
To display their perceived Blue chip
Appearance falls under the grade
Of having means above a shade
Of mere basic existence; yes, charge
You've drawn on the silhouette you've made
So listen to the trivia at large
Ride the train and ship the barge
You never know how the story ends
'Til you've paid your dues and served as Sarge
Last edited by alakungfu; 07-20-2009 at 12:43 PM.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
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