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Anya May 15
Our words shunned by stock and firm
Wishing to watch the bridges burn
We all shall drown
Under the weight of our own sound
Sounds of songs that die with us
Should we fight or pray or cuss
Do not think that we shall wait
Do not think this is our fate
Even if we see the year
Do not think we will adhere
To the future of our sons
May they never need their guns
To our daughters and their voice
May they always have a choice
To our heirs we’ll never see
May they live forever free
With privilege held by rotting rope
Scale it towards our dwindling hope
Should we fall to graves in grounds
We didn’t take it lying down
Anya Apr 13
O Lady Lorde
We give to thee
Our woven hands
That braid the sea
And to your home
We sail away
Unto the waves
From light of day

We sing to you
When rest is near
Asleep we pray
That you should hear
Our voice of old
We carry home
To lie beneath
The ocean foam

In woods of green
And misty snow
We gently ride
To waters low
And once asleep
We follow streams
To silver pools
Within our dreams

These mourning songs
On this bright eve
Our heirs depart
And left to grieve
We leave the land
Not to return
This land of lure
We all shall yearn
Anya Mar 4
Back before the woods were long
There came a quiet mourning song
Past the waters, wide and deep
The ancient Lares lay asleep
Without a home to dwell beneath
He stayed upon the withered heath
Seeing the forest climb and grow
Branches buds, then cracked to snow
Winter pushed the winds back west
And from it came a lively guest
She met him there upon the glade
Rotting roots where at he laid
She gave to him a bartlett pear
And knitted shawl for him to wear
Left as she came to border of sward
And skipped across the leafy yard
They met many times and many a year
Her frequent talks to him were dear
She often wore a carmine gown
That married her hair when came unbound
Often she sat against the trees
And simply hummed with pleasant breeze
Some mornings she brought a lyre strung
And with it ballads graced over her tongue
Her smiles were true as was her heart
And every day he wished to not part
He wished to hold her kaolin hands
But his were stiff of bronze and sands
There came a day when she gave no prayer
And long she sighed against the air
She spoke of home, far past the sky
To a land below the mountains high
Seldom remembrance of her birth
Brought forth a smile which held no mirth
She walked back south along the fen
And never once mentioned the country again
When she was gone he only would wait
To see her come down forest gate
And while he waited he sang her songs
Though nothing passed his lips of bronze
Rain swept by the leafy pass
And fell hard upon the feet of grass
He knew she walked when weather was warm
But still he waited within the storm
A malice rode on the passing wind
As if a warning was meant to send
He heard through thicket and swaying leaves
The sound of steps and voice of thieves
Heavy their feet but silently walked
Beneath the trees that viciously rocked
They passed the border of forest and field
Each with torch and swords they wield
They marched with sneers and sinful eyes
And soon he heard the village cries
His voice went out, silent and sheer
And in him sank a lasting fear
The nights horizon flaked with flame
And till the dawn he called her name
There he waited, but she never showed
Forever sat empty the weaving road
Years he cursed the molting land
And wished to **** each mortal man
The leaves ferment in his rotting dell
And beasts escaped its stench of Hell
Long he stood on perished grass
And soon he too would gently pass
There he faded with mist and cloud
And swift his shawl became a shroud
Anya Mar 3
With anvil bells and tongs
We build our city strong
The halls that we call home
Lay our fallen brothers bone
We take to mountains yore
To friends and fiends the green lands bore
With blood beneath our brow
To safely keep the kingdom crown
The ring of flying steel
To graves below the waters wheel
Our pride shall never bow
For victory stands within our vow
To silent oaths we swore
Hinder sons and daughters war
Our songs for heirs to tell
While we await them long in Hell
Anya Mar 1
Her beauty mellowed the muse of keys
Each eye riveted from the bounty of thieves
Every man bowed his gun from her celeste gaze
Bewitched by the bìtch with hair of golden maize
In days where her arm was something to be feared
When each breath promised last and rightfully revered
Soon words became weapons and death did not differ
With echoes of pyre and lead forever with her
Though soon she forgot the mercy not upheld
As days no longer cared for what each hour held
Anya Feb 29
The white woods walk
About the hills
To the lady of lure
Before the rills
Light gently danced within the shade
As she laid upon the leafy glade
The river rolled beneath her feet
While birds sang clear behind the leaves
Upon her crown the sun lay bare
A garland sat in braided weaves
As she rose the wind etched by
And left the hills with a silent sigh
She danced upon the waters edge
Upon leaves and flowers beneath her feet
Softly rippling with every step
With the water that brushed the wild wheat
Beneath the cold mountains of gray
And beechen woods that softly sway
Her sun weighed hair laced with gold
Fell with mantle through the ferns
And it is for her sweet loving gaze
That each known mortal yearns
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