Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2014 Edward Alan
Luisa
We Fall
 Mar 2014 Edward Alan
Luisa
Sometimes we fall. Sometimes we only stumble just a little, but find strength to reach out & pick ourselves back up.

But sometimes we fall.. Bc it is so hard to pick yourself back up when everything within you is weighing you down.

Sometimes we fall.
Can't seem to shake
this sense of dread
whips and chains
makin a mess in my head
the voice of the universe
bellows loud and clear
so how is it
that we choose not to hear?
Things are way better than I thought.
Life is great and everything was explained.
I have no reason to feel guilty or sorry.
I have no reason to be filled with anxiety.
It feels like this huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
You know, when all your stress builds up and takes over you?
That's what happened to me, and still does.
But I have a better time controlling it than I did before.
And I have people in my life who help me "stay in control" so to speak.
My family, friends, and my boyfriend <3
I will love these people forever and always.
I might not be great with poetry, I know I'm not.
So, here's a line from a song that I love, and think it sums up my love for people and happiness.
"I Will Always Love You."
Okay... That was a bit weird.
Hope you liked it anyway.
Bye!
A happier poem that sums up yesterday's in a better light.
Recently i have been remembering my father. It is hard, but he is a man worth remembering. I do not know how everyone else saw him, but, despite his flaws, he was a great father and a great man. He was a man i was sure of the love of.. He showed me what that meant. I could see it in him. He had some out there thoughts, some strange views - maybe because he went through the 70s , maybe because that was just his head. But no matter that, he loved. The Lord, his wife, my wonderful mother, I , my brothers. I still find strands of his silver hair, even here, in toccoa, among my things. On his jacket. I am reminded of him by the things he left behind. and i remember the space he filled in my life. I never got the chance to right some of the things i regret- shrugging him off - arguing - avoiding him. But i know he forgives me. He is my father - that doesn't and has not changed. Through his passing i have learned that he truly was a great one, and i was sometimes shortsighted when he was still here. I have learned that where he fails - My father God will not. I have seen how he reflected God, and i have seen where he fell short in his humanity. He remains - not perfect - and i will not glorify him past what i believe he was - but an amazing picture of change and redemption through his life. He survived a lot that most men would have crumbled under. He did not run from things that many men would have shrank and hidden from. He made bad choices. But he did what he could to make them right. he lived fast sometimes, but he never forgot that slowing down is important to truly living as well. He may have screamed, yelled, or lost his temper, but at heart, he was a gentle man. He had the strength and the knowledge and the wit to cut people down, but he build them up, bridled his strength, was not a prideful man. He lost much, but he held on to what he still had. He was what a father should be. He was not a god, nor did he always lead with his values in a perfectly straight line. But he taught me to love my brothers. He taught me that blood was thicker. He taught me that God is always the one to go to when everything is wrecked - and you can always go to him even if it was you who wrecked those things. I wish we had seen more eye to eye. But i think, perhaps for our disagreements i found more of me. I think for his weakness, i was given strength. And i imagine i, through my stubbornness and temper similar to his own, challenged him to love daily. And he still did. I miss him.
Sometimes I  wonder
About your love
And whether
Your hearts care
Is fading
Sometimes
Despite everything
It feels like our hopes
For our future together
No longer exists
Like you stole it from me
Locked it away
Along with the tenderness
Care and sense of romance
I worry if our flame has burned out
Or if my heart is still too wounded
To feel your love like before.
She viewed the sky as oft before
The dark clouds gathering, grey and dim
The scent of rain hung in the air
And she closed her eyes, and prayed for him.

The rain fell soft upon the field
Where enemies had come to fight
Man to man and sword to sword
Though the sword she knew, helped not their plight.

The dark ash shafts that she had watched
Her man so gently preserve
Drops from hells own thunder clouds
Steel points without mercy or reserve.

The great yew bow of sap and heart
Its elegant curves he’d crowned with horn
The string he’d twined so skillfully
With his calloused hands, so rough and worn.

The hands with which he’d clasped her own
And pledged to love her, as he loved the bow,
And slipped a ring of silver fine
upon her hand, she loved him so.

Her heart now leapt within her breast
As mail clad men shouted hurried orders
“Women to the baggage!” She heard them say
and she turned to join her frightened neighbors.

The men had no time to say goodbye
They took up their bows and off they went
Towards the muddy field below
She knew that most to their deaths were sent.

She took her place with other girls
Beside the carts and extra mounts
A buzzing whisper of nervous speech
Drowned the men’s descending shouts.

Now and again she closed her eyes
The cross was made and prayer began
She murmured to Mary, the ****** Blessed
To guard the life of every man.

She listened hard and heard the sound
Of thousands of throats shout muddled cries
Their words were lost within the wind
And a twanging note seemed to break the skies.

She knew the archers all had loosed
Their fingers plucked at the harp strings of Death
Her man had sent his goose-fledged shaft
On a journey to leave a widow bereft.

The clash of steel and screams of steeds
shattered the note of twanging bows
And she heard the battle rage all the more
As the melee rose in the field below.

The battle seemed to last for years
The noise of combat daunting and loud
Waned and waxed as the day wore on
But her prayers continued, her head remained bowed.

Salty tears fell from her eyes to
tight clasped hands, their knuckles white
Spare him, spare him, was her cry
And then the sun brought forth its light.

The army’s women raised their heads
And watched as their tired, muddied men,
Crested the top of the trampled hill
Warriors come from death’s dark den.

She searched the ranks with pleading eyes
For the well-known face of her lover true
But it seemed that countless men came
Streaming towards her, and none she knew.

Until at last the final rank
In mud and ****** mail encased
Came into the valley, worn and weary
And she saw at last the familiar face.

A cry of joy came from her lips
A prayer of greatest heartfelt thanks
Her feet grew wings and off she flew
Into her archer’s strong embrace.
My take on the battle of Agincourt. Inspired by Bernard Cornwell's recent novel.
Next page