I've always enjoyed writing poems, though recently I've gone through a phase where every thought-provoking moment for me has also provoked a poem, and I write them all in a journal =) I thought I'd show some of them, though they can be quite long, and my rhyme schemes range from straight couplets to no rhyme at all...I've also added links to songs where music had a hand in inspiring what I wrote.
To avoid confusion, I've added a little index at the top ^^
I) A Crow - the omen as a symbol of hope
I and a half) Looking for that clue? =PII) Time to Fly, the epiphany III) Fair Punishment IV) Revelations - a boy catalyses the Apolcalypse
V) Did you leap today?VI) Requiem - inspired by Wolf's Rain
I) A Crow Song Link ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ukxq-qn-_9Q
I saw a black crow, the omen of old;
Yet the sun beamed upon its wings,
Streaks of white and dazzling gold.
How strange that my eyes should
Fix upon such radiant things.
The Great Race
I and a half)Here’s that-there clue =P
*Pirate is still trying to rush ahead, but there’s now only about twenty metres distance between the two runners….it’s getting close, and the end of the race is in sight ((: * Clue: Once upon a time, Gentletwinly was not so Gentletwinly
*shock announcement =P * ….in fact, he was somewhat mean
….once, his Twin wished in a certain wish thread, for a bar of chocolate, and he stole it for himself…ehehehehe…here’s a helpful reminder –
"*chewing* Yummy! It was a nice chocolate. Thank you for wishing it for me.
"
=P …….the post by me
after it has been altered, and there you can find yourself the
final clue ^____________________^
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Time to Fly, the Epiphany Song ~ Concerto Antico, Alborada (Not on the web, but frankly incredible)
Three men, all rise, at once,
For they know they must go.
Grey suits, grey heads,
One man raises a watch,
And starts from a dreary dream.
“It’s time to fly,”
He says, withdrawing his watch from the light.
“Papers linger upon my desk,
And four walls of closed office space,
Await my return.
The day marches on,
And the cage of work must enclose me again.
Phone calls, memos,
All in a blanket of grey faces,
The office races,
And I must keep time.”
The second man rises, stares at the clock,
That ticks grimly among the urban sprawl
Of electric lights, engine whirrs and concrete
Competing to touch the sky.
“It’s time to fly,” he says,
“The conference has begun,
And I must shy away from the sun,
And talk, and listen, and talk.
The meetings will resume,
So I must sit, and earn my living,
Or else the city will leave without me.
I must argue, and fight, and push through
Policy, to continue the machine of business.
Or else it will leave without me,
And I shall be a shell.”
The third man rises, and stops –
He turns away from the clock,
That ticks grimly among the urban sprawl
Of electric lights, engine whirrs and –
The faint sound of a nightingale,
Calling, against the din.“It’s time as it sighs,” he whispers,
“And never, in the visions of my eyes,
Did I realise, the crash of the sun-lit sky,
As it shatters the grey of the world that I
Suborned myself to.
And the very soul of the earth,
Which rises in shining waves before my mind,
Speaks to the spirits of some distant past,
Or faraway future, which calls to me now.
It’s time to fly,
I must soar, and spread my wings,
Fly into the breaking of the Heavens,
And to all the future brings.
Find the weaving flashes of colour,
In the thunder-lit clouds,
The ferocity of the wind,
As it blows through ancient rhythms,
Shakes its mind, ruptures my soul,
And throws off the cobwebs of all that I know.
It’s time, now
The sun declines, in the collapsing sky,
The seasons are all awry,
And so I must…fly. “
III) Fair PunishmentMy hands are bound,
My legs are chained,
My lips are sealed,
My thoughts betrayed -
A just reward, and justice done
-For feeling, what I should not feel,
For walking where I should not go,
For speaking of what I do not know,
For dreaming of that which shall never be real.
IV) Revelations (This is a long one, you've been warned!) Scary song link ~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7RirEqehfsg ~ The song's important here, otherwise I'd never have written something so macabre =S
The devil is come down unto you, having great wrath, because he knoweth that he hath but a short time. The earth quakes under the oppressive weight of darkness,
Trembling in the eclipse,
Of danger and foreboding,
Of the Apocalypse.
Harbingers and shadows
Of every deed that I have done.
For had it not been for me,
This evil would never have triumphed.
It is all my fault.
It was spoken of at Sunday school,
Where shadows did not stir,
Not of sin, or even shadows of doubt.
My wicked sins would be punished,
My wicked thoughts – would be punished.
I am twelve, and I understand now;
For the Reverend meant punished in life, not in death,
And the day of life’s reckoning is come.
It’s all my fault, the Reverend told me so,
Wicked thoughts and wicked sins,
It is all my fault.
The Reverend told me so;
And the Reverend is always right.
The creature will arrive
When the night swallows the last breath of today,
In seven hours, or so.
But hark, what is this?
I hear flames,
Inferno,
Snapping and shrieking below the Earth,
And now I witness Earth’s first betrayal-
The sun reveals her treachery and plummets,
Dusk is falling over the land,
And it is one o’clock in the afternoon.
He is coming.
He is the creator,
He created dust from the great cathedrals,
He created fire from green woods,
And created ashes of martyrs,
And he is coming,
And it is all my fault.
The cold of the Arctic,
Migrates and settles in my bones.
One shiver down my spine,
And I know all is lost
Though the loss has not yet begun.
Our ancient school,
Becomes a beacon of anarchy,
In the spectre of the afternoon sunset.
And in the fear of the blackened day,
We, children and adults,
Made indiscernible by fear,
Flee to the central hall.
I isolate myself, quarantine my evil,
And sit detached from the multitude
Of pale faces, broken speech,
Quaking voices and personified dread.
They do not know, as I know,
Or understand as I understand,
That in moments he will be here,
And that it is all my fault.
It begins.
Fire erupts in tongues around the hall,
Fears ensue, as encircled
The panic of the people rises;
But I sit, detached, and listen
To the smouldering melancholy of the Earth,
Which suffered my tread for twelve years,
And now looks upon the brink.
Because I am to blame,
I alone.
I wish the chaos of frightened faces
In the fiery circle round the hall,
Would turn to me, strike me,
Punish me for what I have done,
Rid the guilt from my form.
Because I am responsible for this evil,
I am embodied by evil,
I alone.
The panic is subsiding now,
The flames still flicker,
The darkness continues,
But now I know what I must do.
Number, number, number,
Tapped into my phone,
The Reverend’s number.
“Hello?” he asks, and I reply,
“It’s me” - he pauses, waits a while, then -
“Oh hello child, I suppose like all the others
You seek comfort from me,
In this day of judgement, in this reckoning
Which we must have brought upon ourselves”.
“No”, my answer comes,
“No. I wish to say sorry,
I thought wicked thoughts in weakness,
Dreamt wicked dreams in frailty,
And thus have set him free –
All because of me”.
The phone gasps,
I hear the Reverend’s rasping breaths
“No”, his answer comes,
“No. It is I who is sorry,
My duty is to warn you against sin,
And that duty was pursued too far.
You are a good child,
A meek child,
You are not to blame,
How could you set the devil free?
…This is not your fault”.
“LIAR!” I cut the line,
And sit in the misery and murk
Of the evil I unleashed.
It is too late now,
But now I know what I must do.
I stand and proceed to the front,
As silence and shadows crush the hall,
To repent.
“I am sorry, for the fire,
For the darkness, for the despair,
I am sorry, for my sins, for his coming,
For it is all my fault.”
A few laughs, a few gasps, and much silence.
They are disbelievers.
One voice, among the throng,
“Who is coming?”
I close both eyes,
And feel his presence,
For he is coming – here! And to me;
Why? He must know,
That I have set him free,
I am his malevolent saviour,
And it is all my fault.
“The Antichrist. The Antichrist is here”
The wave of protest, from sceptic students,
Is brought down before it rises,
As the doors crash in the wake of tongues of fire,
Leaping into the hall,
And leering at us all.
And from within the inferno,
An unearthly silhouette,
Seven foot, an angel,
With coal-black wings,
Emerges from the smoke.
I need to fly from here,
But to no avail,
I am immobilized.
A ribbon of flowing red hair is his,
His face a pale moon,
Bathed in total serenity,
And a false smile upon his lips.
Lashed eyes are closed,
And his arms are raised, in triumph, in exaltation;
Snow-white robe blows
In a mocking, unnatural wind.
His wings are unfurled and lifted to the heavens,
How ironic.
He is nearly ready to strike.
Our executioner,
Is a beautiful abomination.
He was the Lord’s angel,
And he is still angelic;
On the outside.
But on the inside, well, we all know.
His ruby eyes awaken to his new world,
Ready for conquer.
Sparks ricochet across the walls,
And the electric lights surrender,
But all is still visible,
Lit by the fires of hell.
Audible fear now,
As all hasten to the far corner of the hall
In renewed terror;
But I sit, alone, unmoved,
In blessed thought.
This is not my fault,
This is not my fault!
The Reverend was right,
I am a child,
A lost lamb,
And I could not have caused this ruin;
Could I?
No, it cannot be my fault,
This is not my fault.
The treacherous angel turns,
And beholds me,
Holy eyes,
Unholy evil,
He glides across this hall,
Each foot falls in silence,
Across the glistening floor.
The multitudes are getting desperate,
They strike at the walls,
Wretched in their pleas for escape,
Now they know,
Now they understand,
Their fate, though they have not yet
Given up hope of fleeing it.
He is closing in,
Still beaming,
And he takes my hand,
Bending to my height.
I stare back into those scarlet eyes,
Unblinking, though by no means unafraid.
“Thank you”, he whispers,
“For setting me free”.
“Never!” I cry,
“No! This is not my fault!”
I struggle to pull away,
But he effortlessly keeps me there.
“Do not fear”, he murmurs,
“It shall be our little secret,
That which we both know…
That this is all your fault.”
So here I am,
I have been judged,
On this Day of Judgement,
And I have failed.
I fall, between paper pages of waxen fire
And am lost there between the written lines of darkness,
Frozen in poetry.
For I have been found at fault.
Crashfire.
Darkness is omnipresent –
So this is what annihilation looks like.
And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together. V) Did you leap today? Song link ~ http://www.imeem.com/insar/music/TzUCVQgx/scala_bittersweet_symphony/
Did you leap today,
And touch the atmosphere?
Did you hop or skip or sing or jump
Or face your latest fear?
Did you laugh today,
And share that laughter round?
Did you dance through meadows gold
Or render a lost soul found?
Did you live today,
And live each second to its perfect end?
If you're answer is not Yes,
Then you'd best start planning for tomorrow, my friend.
Requiem (inspired by Wolf's Rain) Song Link~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NTrTo4zyDIg
As he falls,
The single dark tone of the world,
Heaves, and melts away, and all
The melancholy of his life,
Collapses through chasms
That brighten, then rise,
To the melody of a thousand years
Breaking through the earth.
As he draws his final breaths,
The rain is forced away,
As sunlight breaks the sky,
And brings about the sway
Of golden petals, dancing in the glory
Of a new dawn.
For what can repel,
The grace of the wild world,
When the gears and the oil and the smoke
Finally come to a halt,
And all the rust of an iron monster,
Burns away in the sky’s tumultuous rays,
False realities are spirited away
So that the eye can never again be darkened
In this day,
Or the next.
As his force melts away,
The peaks grasp hands with the heavens,
And the harmony of earth and sky
Take his pulse as the heaving flocks of swans,
Fly, across the paradise found.
The paradise won, just for those few worthy seconds,
A few brief moments of lunar flowers
Dancing with the sun.
All shall be lost, in too brief a breath,
But so long as time is in motion,
There shall be those willing, once again
To sacrifice all,
For a few seconds of lunar flowers,
Dancing with the sun.
Sun Feb 22, 2009 8:02 am
