Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Rotted hollow stumps grow greeting Minds like yours and mine to meeting Might and menace - the men retreating From utter, bar none, monsters beating Of hearts so strong and weak, along To stringent thrums they croon our song They part and in this place belong Some rightful seat to wax and wrong In love and scorn, in thoughts alone Of deeds repaid and sins atoned Upon the glim we fling the stone And call aloft to steer us home But not the blood home whence our birth Nor still the foster touch of earth - The flames unfit, the skies in dearth - Instead on stanchions of our worth Beneath twin pools of muck and ire Beneath two more: The beast; The fire; Ceaseless straits of optic mire Rivers down and up the spire From our aft the wire emerges The string'ed puppet craft from urges Our safety ropes - A net converges Upon we fall in chants and dirges Through gaps astride we tears fall Side by ****** side from all Our tide of eyes will cue the call The masses' fist to uninstall Yanked aside like rotting weeds Our amalgam minds took-root recedes The might has died, the menace bleeds Our wants - They are this monster's needs
0
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC
The Tree on The Moon
Rotted hollow stumps grow greeting Minds like yours and mine to meeting Might and menace - the men retreating From utter, bar none, monsters beating Of hearts so strong and weak, along To stringent thrums they croon our song They part and in this place belong Some rightful seat to wax and wrong In love and scorn, in thoughts alone Of deeds repaid and sins atoned Upon the glim we fling the stone And call aloft to steer us home But not the blood home whence our birth Nor still the foster touch of earth - The flames unfit, the skies in dearth - Instead on stanchions of our worth Beneath twin pools of muck and ire Beneath two more: The beast; The fire; Ceaseless straits of optic mire Rivers down and up the spire From our aft the wire emerges The string'ed puppet craft from urges Our safety ropes - A net converges Upon we fall in chants and dirges Through gaps astride we tears fall Side by ****** side from all Our tide of eyes will cue the call The masses' fist to uninstall Yanked aside like rotting weeds Our amalgam minds took-root recedes The might has died, the menace bleeds Our wants - They are this monster's needs
Doesn't make a whole loto f sense without the esoteric lore that goes with it, just checking to see if it sounds okay on its own.
NotRand
Written by
England
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem