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ChronicleView
Chronicle
A Few Poems by me:
1.)
Thou felt gloom that night, That
time of Dark, When none was bright, Thou felt the storm, post dusk, and
dawn approaching, Thine own self did thou say why me to die today? Twas
I not Good nor Helpful to thy dark hood, to thy great one of Many, many
strong, many own thy power, of death and creation, More death from you,
why is it so, on my night to wed. Because the said your choice to wed,
is of my blood, to the I call a flood, To wash away thy slime and filth,
and take thine hands away, to release thy self from my daughter, and all
those with which you wish to wed. So It was so, I been tossed far to and
fro, loss of my to be wed, the one with which I shared their bed. Love
can not come in a place where noble ties are not involved, so rather, I
draw my hands away, and I beseech the, never make the stake of mis I did
that day.
2.)
Light is Falling,
Angel's Balling,
Dark is Rising,
dusk suprising,
out of shadow comes the knight,
showing all his wonderous might,
out to times of old he called,
with no avail he went away,
in a bar of drinks and men he brawled,
and left again with much dismay,
his life and work no more alive,
than heaven nor hell's attempts
to thrive,
wondered why he still did pray,
on bed of death he now did lay.
3.)
Green grass, blue sky, shimmering
in the light breeze, Wonder world, how could I? Find my way into ease.
Here it is, given to me, without even lift of my finger, So kind this land,
peace comes to be, without work from anyone, so not true in world of reality,
I travel to through the farms ever to the city. Everything, everyone, harmony,
so well strung. Hard to believe it could come here, but never the place,
our human presence constantly does smeer. A butterfly shows me the way,
through tulips, daisies, streams, and woods, by waterfall we stay. We watch,
we dream, we look some more, hear the flowing, see the glowing, touch the
mist, oh so cold, never so warm, never too soft, never too rough, but gentle.
The breeze picks up again, carries butterfly and me away, above the falling
water, through the woods and clutter, past the pretty city, through the
fields we never yield, beauty all the way. |