Williamallen - Hello Poetry

The rubble cries, mourning the loss of human touch. Weeping over the crushing silence that echoes through the once busied cobble-stoned streets. These neglected edifices, with their iron-rusted bones, litter the long-vacant valley. The inhabitants of the forgotten valley stopped bearing children and began falling ill, heralding the arrival of their great collector. On their own horizons, the people could see the visage of their guilt, cloaked in tattered rags that seemed to disintegrate against the most subtle breeze and sitting atop an emaciated mount with pallid skin. That rider, who strolled ever so slowly, dragging behind him wrapped in chains the ill-begotten promises of fools, the indiscretions of humanity came with ample warning. They ignored him; their self-loving monuments fell, and the crystalline waters of their gilded fountains flowed with arsenic. All too late did they recognize the shameful consequence of their hubris. And so, when that cold Gray Rider arrived, gaunt and hollow-eyed, to collect his caravan of souls, the buildings howled like mothers sending the last of their children into the cold, unforgiving world. Thus, the sorrowed rubble weeps until it is reclaimed by the borrowed Earth, slowly returning to the soil from which it was born, allowing the verdant valley to take shape once again.

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Dec 20, 2024

Dec 20, 2024 at 5:38 PM UTC

The Visage of Guilt

The rubble cries, mourning the loss of human touch. Weeping over the crushing silence that echoes through the once busied cobble-stoned streets. These neglected edifices, with their iron-rusted bones, litter the long-vacant valley. The inhabitants of the forgotten valley stopped bearing children and began falling ill, heralding the arrival of their great collector. On their own horizons, the people could see the visage of their guilt, cloaked in tattered rags that seemed to disintegrate against the most subtle breeze and sitting atop an emaciated mount with pallid skin. That rider, who strolled ever so slowly, dragging behind him wrapped in chains the ill-begotten promises of fools, the indiscretions of humanity came with ample warning. They ignored him; their self-loving monuments fell, and the crystalline waters of their gilded fountains flowed with arsenic. All too late did they recognize the shameful consequence of their hubris. And so, when that cold Gray Rider arrived, gaunt and hollow-eyed, to collect his caravan of souls, the buildings howled like mothers sending the last of their children into the cold, unforgiving world. Thus, the sorrowed rubble weeps until it is reclaimed by the borrowed Earth, slowly returning to the soil from which it was born, allowing the verdant valley to take shape once again.

3

Closing the book wherein I laid my memories, I rest the tireless pen atop the aged leather. The fire, still roaring, Looked more alluring. I nestled by the warmth of the charred hearth The flames crept slowly out to embrace my body taking me in. Fuel for the fire I give myself to the pyre.

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Apr 6, 2019

Apr 6, 2019 at 6:05 PM UTC

Warmth

Closing the book wherein I laid my memories, I rest the tireless pen atop the aged leather. The fire, still roaring, Looked more alluring. I nestled by the warmth of the charred hearth The flames crept slowly out to embrace my body taking me in. Fuel for the fire I give myself to the pyre.

15

The pain, oh how it stings. Absence of you Echoes like soles Speaking in empty halls. The darkness will never be alit with your smile. Our world once spent Together Is now in Isolation. Peace and tranquility I hope find you & Stay themselves In your ethereal heart.

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Apr 6, 2019

Apr 6, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC

Memory #3 Loss

The pain, oh how it stings. Absence of you Echoes like soles Speaking in empty halls. The darkness will never be alit with your smile. Our world once spent Together Is now in Isolation. Peace and tranquility I hope find you & Stay themselves In your ethereal heart.

14

Her love was unmatched It was violent Like the tide. The deepest blue waters held all her secrets. Her touch, warm and welcoming Always comforting. Nothing more pleasant Than hearing my name Escape her lips. As quickly as her memory arrives It fades. Allowing cold to enter and keep its stay.

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Apr 6, 2019

Apr 6, 2019 at 2:56 PM UTC

Memory #2 Love

Her love was unmatched It was violent Like the tide. The deepest blue waters held all her secrets. Her touch, warm and welcoming Always comforting. Nothing more pleasant Than hearing my name Escape her lips. As quickly as her memory arrives It fades. Allowing cold to enter and keep its stay.

17

My hand traces letters that will build the scene for hope. It was you that installed my ability for hope. Learning was an endless journey to which I never grew tired or weary. Your hands held the weight of my world in their palms. All of the joys in this world were gifts from you. Smiles seen for miles lighting the darkest chasms. Hope came from you. A most precious gift.

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Jan 18, 2019

Jan 18, 2019 at 4:46 PM UTC

Memory #1, Hope

My hand traces letters that will build the scene for hope. It was you that installed my ability for hope. Learning was an endless journey to which I never grew tired or weary. Your hands held the weight of my world in their palms. All of the joys in this world were gifts from you. Smiles seen for miles lighting the darkest chasms. Hope came from you. A most precious gift.

21

Upon opening the great oak door, a warmth greeted me. There, inside the room devoid of any souls but my own, sat a single desk neath the lonely window & the counterpart chair tucked between its legs. The fire lowly roared, its flame filling the room with soft beams of light escaping through the window. As I close the door behind me, the latch clicking shut, I notice a journal, tattered and aged, beside a pen and jar of ink. The journal empty the pen worn from more hands than one. I pull out the chair, its feet vibrating against the floor the sound reverberating off the walls echoing into the vaulted ceiling. I held the pen, and dipped it into the ink black as coal, and stained the pages with my reflections. Memories.

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Jan 18, 2019

Jan 18, 2019 at 4:33 PM UTC

The Desk, Chair, & Window

Upon opening the great oak door, a warmth greeted me. There, inside the room devoid of any souls but my own, sat a single desk neath the lonely window & the counterpart chair tucked between its legs. The fire lowly roared, its flame filling the room with soft beams of light escaping through the window. As I close the door behind me, the latch clicking shut, I notice a journal, tattered and aged, beside a pen and jar of ink. The journal empty the pen worn from more hands than one. I pull out the chair, its feet vibrating against the floor the sound reverberating off the walls echoing into the vaulted ceiling. I held the pen, and dipped it into the ink black as coal, and stained the pages with my reflections. Memories.

21

I made my way to the front. The invitation was subtle. The cold gray stones shifted cracked and chipped under the pressure of my heels. Dark Worn Splintered Rails Drew my hands, ever so familiar. I pressed up the aged steps to a door of old wood & character. Its constitution still intact and uncompromised. An iron handle, worn smooth from visitors past, waited for my embrace and the latch, warm to the touch, gave way under my eager thumb.

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Jan 16, 2019

Jan 16, 2019 at 3:00 AM UTC

Invitation

I made my way to the front. The invitation was subtle. The cold gray stones shifted cracked and chipped under the pressure of my heels. Dark Worn Splintered Rails Drew my hands, ever so familiar. I pressed up the aged steps to a door of old wood & character. Its constitution still intact and uncompromised. An iron handle, worn smooth from visitors past, waited for my embrace and the latch, warm to the touch, gave way under my eager thumb.

20

Shrouded by a thicket of trees a humble building sat. Earthen brown & her windows aged. That old glass topped with frost and dirt. Gently, I clear the thin veil with my beaten hands. Lo, there lay the roaring flame. Neslted on the hearth within the mantle. Awestruck in its beauty, I lost myself to time. Day tenderly fell to dusk and dark laid the pines. I peered through that glass. Lo, there lie the roaring flame.

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Jan 15, 2019

Jan 15, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC

Hearth & Mantle

Shrouded by a thicket of trees a humble building sat. Earthen brown & her windows aged. That old glass topped with frost and dirt. Gently, I clear the thin veil with my beaten hands. Lo, there lay the roaring flame. Neslted on the hearth within the mantle. Awestruck in its beauty, I lost myself to time. Day tenderly fell to dusk and dark laid the pines. I peered through that glass. Lo, there lie the roaring flame.

16

It cut through the fog the ever distant yellow glow. Hints of red, dancing between the corruscating beams of amber. Resplendent light, so warm and inviting, surely had never been seen like this before. That light which broke through the thickness of fog and tree met my worn and tired face. Filling each crease and fold with a sense of exuberance. The yellows & reds danced joyously and how, oh how I wondered about their home. Which surely must be a hearth below a mantle.

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Jan 15, 2019

Jan 15, 2019 at 5:15 PM UTC

The Ever Distant Glow

It cut through the fog the ever distant yellow glow. Hints of red, dancing between the corruscating beams of amber. Resplendent light, so warm and inviting, surely had never been seen like this before. That light which broke through the thickness of fog and tree met my worn and tired face. Filling each crease and fold with a sense of exuberance. The yellows & reds danced joyously and how, oh how I wondered about their home. Which surely must be a hearth below a mantle.

19

It is but a somber feeling. The lonely heart that yearns for companionship. Creating such a haze amidst the trees. I now wonder blind & lost. The thinly veiled purple of night draws nigh absent of light. My eyes not adjusted to the deafening dark. Oh! loss & hearts refrain how I breathe with disdain The cold that leaves the air so still, unforgiving, & unfair.

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Jan 15, 2019

Jan 15, 2019 at 4:48 PM UTC

Emptiness

It is but a somber feeling. The lonely heart that yearns for companionship. Creating such a haze amidst the trees. I now wonder blind & lost. The thinly veiled purple of night draws nigh absent of light. My eyes not adjusted to the deafening dark. Oh! loss & hearts refrain how I breathe with disdain The cold that leaves the air so still, unforgiving, & unfair.

17