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NikkitaHaendelPoems
I. In the land far away, where the feared knight still roams night and day, forgetful of his steed and might, I lay in forgotten stones. In this ancient coffin, my abode, I listen to whispered tones, from ages and times, about to lose their pale. The scratched tapestries unveil. II. When this tragedy is tangled no more, I will sleep my rest, closed eyes with sore, and a hounding pest at my feet that plucks me apart. If without a scream I shall lose, my sense of being, my heart **** with the anguish of my dearest Muse. The chivalrous soul of mine, would disappear in time. III. A fatal blow would prove to be, the sorrows of my people, my love, for they hold out candles out for me when sways in wind a pale dove. Without this lighthouse, just like a corsair without his men, - my fires ***** and douse quick as they darken - Foreigner of the people that once were. Stranger of his neighbors, fellow pair. IV. All this I uncover in our misty and dying chronicles, that seep from the attic, a dusty worm-filled hole with obstacles thrown all around. Somehow, the sulfuric hand guided and bound me to this newfound land. Now, I leave my diary to rot with the rest of this abysmal lot V. and see for my self I will, through the eyes of great delight, that still thank the Lord for the rise of my homeland, my dear Spain. So speak to me, not through whispers, but thunderous march. In vain, I've called out to you, disperse my puny efforts and become real or my crust, my shell you'll peel. VI. Forever, for forever engravings shall burn with lushness, the tint and stings on my canvas. Redness eaten away by heroic equals. Forever, for forever I wear this cloak unwrapped. Rumples or smiles come up. I spare them of their rugged hatred. Here I come, my love, forever sacred. VII. While birds have sung their heart's quaver, from threads, I hung not to waver. The one leading, guiding, and scheming my escape, the one who brought me to the brink of death, as Zeus tried to **** Europa so did Mother Nature. Her vivid corpse cold as a glacier VIII. I've kissed countless times. She brought the beast back to life, like a beggar awarded with dimes. Now I've caught up to the strife, the woe that plagues me I've seduced with frisky moments, and pedant efforts to capture the spruced scene that grows around. Hesitant, my chimera has become. I await the return of the lost one. IX. En Plein air, that's how they call my unhinged creations, when behind the marble wall a mess of colors invokes sensation. While my dreams still lure me to believe far voices, some have caught here for sure and my attention poses openly to these claims. So I have taken a few new names. X. Heat shines among the littered bricks, that shape these cheerful chimes and clouds puff and huff. Cheeks of young and fertile women reflect the solar flare that forecasts a prosperous omen about to arrive and meet my stare. Beautiful, sweet, and sunny. See them exit my breast free. XI. Smite me almost did Saint Peter when into his otherworldly palace naive and eager I walked boldly on thin ice for a silhouette, ****** Mary, I thought at first I saw. Godly choral, a duet, with a phantom throat, full of thirst, I couldn't quench and closed shut, the hinge XII. wouldn't move. Truth be told, I was in heaven. Bliss and sooth fell on my shoulders. Raven of doubt, nowhere near. This is it, come here, my angel. A single tear drowned in a bust stable with years. But the second briskly happened. XIII. No more could I look at her with these sinful hopes. Bind her figure and tear that coal habit. Robes of pure essence defend from ***** folk. They shine of transcendence that God willed to stalk their highness. Look could I look no more, no less. XIV. Steps turned to miles from wings, I stole. Once church's tiles now are a single pole. Like a chess piece without the restrains of playful dynasties. Still, it pains me when I escaped and the way I paved. XV. Here I notice your toppled towers. Giants left this as a reminder. Showers of needles deep in your skin I enter and cry. Where did it begin? I ask while I sigh. My lips against yours where attack did sores. XVI. Final light shines through your veins as I uncover what's right while stains of buckets of blood collide with my own sacrifice. Flood hardens my tie to you, dear Barcelona. I become one with your persona.
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Jan 20, 2020
Jan 20, 2020 at 1:51 AM UTC
Ode to my lost love
I. In the land far away, where the feared knight still roams night and day, forgetful of his steed and might, I lay in forgotten stones. In this ancient coffin, my abode, I listen to whispered tones, from ages and times, about to lose their pale. The scratched tapestries unveil. II. When this tragedy is tangled no more, I will sleep my rest, closed eyes with sore, and a hounding pest at my feet that plucks me apart. If without a scream I shall lose, my sense of being, my heart **** with the anguish of my dearest Muse. The chivalrous soul of mine, would disappear in time. III. A fatal blow would prove to be, the sorrows of my people, my love, for they hold out candles out for me when sways in wind a pale dove. Without this lighthouse, just like a corsair without his men, - my fires ***** and douse quick as they darken - Foreigner of the people that once were. Stranger of his neighbors, fellow pair. IV. All this I uncover in our misty and dying chronicles, that seep from the attic, a dusty worm-filled hole with obstacles thrown all around. Somehow, the sulfuric hand guided and bound me to this newfound land. Now, I leave my diary to rot with the rest of this abysmal lot V. and see for my self I will, through the eyes of great delight, that still thank the Lord for the rise of my homeland, my dear Spain. So speak to me, not through whispers, but thunderous march. In vain, I've called out to you, disperse my puny efforts and become real or my crust, my shell you'll peel. VI. Forever, for forever engravings shall burn with lushness, the tint and stings on my canvas. Redness eaten away by heroic equals. Forever, for forever I wear this cloak unwrapped. Rumples or smiles come up. I spare them of their rugged hatred. Here I come, my love, forever sacred. VII. While birds have sung their heart's quaver, from threads, I hung not to waver. The one leading, guiding, and scheming my escape, the one who brought me to the brink of death, as Zeus tried to **** Europa so did Mother Nature. Her vivid corpse cold as a glacier VIII. I've kissed countless times. She brought the beast back to life, like a beggar awarded with dimes. Now I've caught up to the strife, the woe that plagues me I've seduced with frisky moments, and pedant efforts to capture the spruced scene that grows around. Hesitant, my chimera has become. I await the return of the lost one. IX. En Plein air, that's how they call my unhinged creations, when behind the marble wall a mess of colors invokes sensation. While my dreams still lure me to believe far voices, some have caught here for sure and my attention poses openly to these claims. So I have taken a few new names. X. Heat shines among the littered bricks, that shape these cheerful chimes and clouds puff and huff. Cheeks of young and fertile women reflect the solar flare that forecasts a prosperous omen about to arrive and meet my stare. Beautiful, sweet, and sunny. See them exit my breast free. XI. Smite me almost did Saint Peter when into his otherworldly palace naive and eager I walked boldly on thin ice for a silhouette, ****** Mary, I thought at first I saw. Godly choral, a duet, with a phantom throat, full of thirst, I couldn't quench and closed shut, the hinge XII. wouldn't move. Truth be told, I was in heaven. Bliss and sooth fell on my shoulders. Raven of doubt, nowhere near. This is it, come here, my angel. A single tear drowned in a bust stable with years. But the second briskly happened. XIII. No more could I look at her with these sinful hopes. Bind her figure and tear that coal habit. Robes of pure essence defend from ***** folk. They shine of transcendence that God willed to stalk their highness. Look could I look no more, no less. XIV. Steps turned to miles from wings, I stole. Once church's tiles now are a single pole. Like a chess piece without the restrains of playful dynasties. Still, it pains me when I escaped and the way I paved. XV. Here I notice your toppled towers. Giants left this as a reminder. Showers of needles deep in your skin I enter and cry. Where did it begin? I ask while I sigh. My lips against yours where attack did sores. XVI. Final light shines through your veins as I uncover what's right while stains of buckets of blood collide with my own sacrifice. Flood hardens my tie to you, dear Barcelona. I become one with your persona.
#homeland#lost#identity#barcelona#spain#france
Written by
NikkitaHaendel
Jan 20, 2020
Jan 20, 2020 at 1:51 AM UTC
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