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If only his hatred
Was as transient
As her love
His rage burns with passion
Yet all her love
Is lost.
Paenitentia's grief.
Perri Jun 2015
I started listening to Latin music recently
~
I have no clue
what they're singing about
nor do I want to know
because I love all the emotion put into each song
feeling it creep into my soul
and wake it from its long hibernation
And that feeling is far more satisfying
than all the words in the world.
They stood within,
The garden of old
Forgotten to time;
Left to unfold
The lily-bush bidden,
To grow wayward free
Birds of paradise dance,
With no eyes to see.
The candle sits awaiting its charge;
Alas, I remain in darkness.
Once my soul takes leave,
I implore no mourning.  
I float free and liberated,
In the empty expanse of eternity.
Paenitentia finds release from his burden.
Candle flames flicker

As life does so burn

Those lost to the abyss

Do rarely find return
The poem from the beginning of the final story in my short story collection 'The Tales of Paenitentia'
Jacquelyn Morgan May 2015
Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me
I am the deer that eludes the hunt.
The thick beating drum that rests by my lung,
Is no ones to scoop out or to conquer
Round’ my neck droops -a necklace of daisies,
Withered off-white six-seasons sun-bright
A gift from the Artist;
Whose soul twined with mine,
Deep roots and thick vined.
Our fruits once plump ripe, now lie rotten
Plucked from my presence, forgotten
The essence of Wild & Free- we ran rapidly,
From, institutions, illusions, dogma, delusions
I am he and he is me. a painting, verse, a memory
& now I flee alone, paintbrush tail, no home
To hunt me is in vain.
I am the bohemian- I am never tamed
Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me
this poem was inspired by Sir Thomas Wyatt's poem titled, Whoso List to Hunt
Gwen Pimentel Feb 2015
If Latin is the root of modern words
And Latin is a dead language
Then does that mean that
The words we use now that have flowered from Latin
Are dead too since the roots are so-called 'dead'?
My friend asked me this and it got me thinking.
WickedHope Feb 2015
Scrape the safety out of my eyes
Let the tears wallow, watch me cry
She saw my wrists and laughed at me
I've "cursed myself" is what she believes

She never understood
My favorite type of art
Tells me it's evil work
And I'm breaking her heart

Ancient tongue we no longer speak
Upon my skin in chants to preach
Simple font in words concrete
I write about the things I've seen
Sooo much inability to form coherent thoughts. Sorry my writing ***** guys.
Poet-Whisperer Jan 2015
This life is an asylum where we are patients unwell, possessed by the need to move and escape. Some believe that they are heroes, some believe they are nothing but most of us here are fools who have maybe thrown this life away, we surround ourselves with material objects by which we feel will bring to us less grief and pain, and when asked what it is you love, you lie saying that there is no one nor anything to.
"What of your father, mother, brother, sister? What of them?"

This was the only truth where you would not reply for they truly do not exist.
Your father died the death of a drunk, a fool. Your mother a *****, a poor one a that. Your brother was weak and had no will so he chose to end whatever was left of his life. Your sister.. your sister was young, beautiful but she was thrown as a stray where she was left for dead with her last breathe.
You were however not left then, visited continuously by them “the doctors” they came asking you the same question day after day.

"who or what do you love?"

They followed on with money? Beauty? And words which all meant nothing to you and you replied with the same arrogance of the fool that you once were. Shouting, screaming and yelling at them.

"I despise everything, the same way you fools despise your god with every tiny, petty ounce of faithless worship."

Soon with time, so too did they leave you as you are… as you always were, alone. However they did not understand that it was time alone that you needed, time alone to collect your thoughts and calm yourself down, only they did not realize that, and so you were left aside…

Years passed and you were left with only the care for your daily needs. Food, washing's, sleep and medicine. Years passed when finally you were visited by an astonishingly young stranger, a girl, one who was around the age of your younger sister at the time.
She was filled with youth, beautiful, almost as if she were a goddess from heaven, one that you never thought you would meet in this life… she walked up to you in a slow pace with her feet hitting the marbled laced floor with a rhythm of *** and tat, and when she finally arrived before you she asked.

"Who or what is it that you love?"

And you replied, whole-heartedly with a never ending single or so tear running down the side of your cheek.

"I love the incomparable chaste blue of the sky, the mimicking and ever so toning white of the clouds, the marvelous clouds, in all its beauteous visage. I love everything in all its beauty."

And you said so with a smile that ran along the sides of your cheeks, with a tear that soon stopped, in a room resembling reverie, in which a stagnant and almost as if never ending atmosphere of negativity just vanished… leading your idol soul bathed in regret and anguish away to a better place under a new moon of voluptuous dreams.
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