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Not believing in God
Is like not believing in zero
Medieval inquisitions
Religious conversions
And poor Don Quixote
Together with Galileo
Chasing windmills
Counting rabbits
Go suffer to sainthood
In the sorry lot.
MNDFL May 15
I was once a dragon.
I hoarded my cursed gold to myself,
Staying locked away in a cave.
But then you came,
And with each decisive slice to my underbelly
You drove me further out
Seeking either my head or the cursed gold I protect.
And I knew as I gazed upon the stunned crowd of villagers,
That I was not going to survive the battle.
Never posted this one.
Chase Parrish Apr 15
A slow rabble was the army tent
In the sense events commenced.
Lines lingered laughingly long

Senescent men intent in resentment
Furiously fighting fear.
Young men too, letting bravery ferment

Fools to the firmament.
Fate's Impertinent
Bent by torments underwent.

Who begged to be sent off to war?
Not me for sure; not anymore.
I won't ask why I was whisked away,
That I thought through though.
Wistfully waiting, I Inclined
To outline this old tale of mine
In the event I'm left behind.

So to whom it may concern,
Know you how my spirit burned!
Watch as I, while mortal
Fought foul fate, so much unearned
And how, with luck, I'll yet return.
This is the fifth poem in my The ****** Journal series, although I suppose you could call this the first poem in the set, as this is going to be the beginning of the narrative. Feel free to critique!
Arianna Mar 11

         *Chanterai pour mon courage!
          Les flèches me perforent et ravagent,
          Mon cœur elles font trembler de peur.

Je suis éloignée de vie et amour
Par la guerre, qui a fait une mémoire des beaux jours.
Hélas! Avec le péril, je me trouve face-à-face.

J'abandonne les jardins et toutes mes compagnes,
Y m'en vais au bout de monde, à travers déserts et montagnes.
Avançant vers l’exil, donnez-moi de la grâce!

Tellement vous m’avez comblée de sagesse,
Y m’avez prévenue de’n’ point perdre la jeunesse!
Que le Printemps ravivera l'esprit engloutie par la glace...

Chanterai pour mon courage!
Les flèches me perforent et ravagent,
Mon cœur elles font trembler de peur.

                        ♠ ♠ ♠

          For courage I shall sing!
          The arrows pierce and ravage me,
          Making my heart quake with fear.

Far removed from life and love
By ear, which has made good times but a memory.
Alas! I come face-to-face with peril.

Abandoning the gardens and all of my friends,
I go to the end of the world, through deserts and mountains.
Nearing this exile, give me grace!

How you have showered me with wisdom,
And warned me not to waste youth!
That Springtime might restore life to the spirit swallowed by ice!

For courage I shall sing!
The arrows pierce and ravage me,
Making my heart quake with fear.
A little experiment inspired by the "virelai" format popular during the Middle Ages. It's not quite true to the form, though: in order to be so, the third stanza before the refrain repeats (the "abgesang") would need to be adjusted to match the rhyme scheme of the refrain. I also took the liberty of using more than two rhymes. ;-) Unfortunately, there's simply no way to preserve the rhymes in translation to English. :-(

Guiot de Dijon - "Chanterai por mon corage":
Ominous winds circled above,
And I laid my claims to rest;

Hooves trotted about
Upon the moonlit Eve
To entreat forth upon the darkened quarter,
A haze lingering in their hearts;

"Parley, hold the roses,
The daffodils and tulips
The rosemary and thyme
Gather o'er the courtyard,
And let my ballad be at peace -"

"Pardon all further suitors
Amidst this incessant masquerade
Hearts and Souls swirl in angst,
Amidst this ominous parade;

The well of hearts hath run dry
Remaining as bloodlust; misery;
Just younger for the courtyard ground -
Give a prayer, par the bouquet,
To each suitor, that may arrive,
May their destiny prosy -
Through tender clouds
Before they meet the graveyard mound."
Arianna Feb 27
"What can I say
to convey the splendour of a night
in hiding,
smiling shyly from her shadows?

                    "Come closer, O Golden One,
                    I have brought thee a crown
                    of thyme leaves and roses...""
Jordi Savall - "Guilhem Figueira, France 13e s.: D'un sirventes far":
Anton Feb 4
stuck in a mansion
I lean towards rear doors
acacia stairways and shatters on the floor
candles and torches
flamed servants and lords
wrists in tough handcuffs dripped silver on blackened cloth

a puff on feathery couches
so king is my job
lock a rogue in my brick tower and run elves country's plot

stretched my red fleshy biceps
on everblushed monday court
threw pillowed white rosebuds on my folk chaperone

he ignited my wooden castle
left room cells in petrol
I ducked the chimney way to ceilings... and he tongues my gore
Haylin Jan 20
My knight does not need to be
in shining armor,
nor blessed with prestige
or countless honor.

It only needs to be you,
someone who could wield
a sword, respectable enough
to be able to strike a heart of gold.
Arianna Jan 7
"He who knows him who has no beginning and no end, in the midst of chaos, creating all things, having many forms, alone enveloping everything, is freed from all fetters."

                        ⸺ from The Upanishads: Shvetashvatara
                                 Upanishad, ChapterVI, no. 13

Aye, so it is, and what if
My spirit comes unbound,
Abandoning the senses
Of the body?

Hunger grows faint, and thirst;
I feel not the jaws of the cold
Locking into my flesh,
Nor the scorches of heat in my veins.

I answer to this name
Which nevertheless, I cannot trace
Back to myself,
And night after sleepless night,

It remains unclear
Whether I am dying,
Or rising into life,

A little bit of wine, and thoughts on a recent, and very persistent state of mind. Just finished a book about ascetic practices in the Middle Ages, and the ideas and theology regarding the body's sensory capacities as conduit/vehicle for spiritual experience and communion resonated profoundly with thoughts that have gone through my mind before, as well as with some more recent internal experiences. Had a copy of "The Upanishads" for a WHILE now, but have yet to read it; however, I was inspired to open it after reading briefly about the life of humanitarian-gone-mystic Simone Weil. I decided to flip to a random page and see what appeared, and the very first thing I read was the line quoted at the beginning of this poem. Fitting...

Sometimes, beauty just moves you. Sometimes, it drives you to tears (the racking, depths-of-the-soul sort of weeping):

Also, Jordi Savall & Montserrat Figueras - "Sibilla Catalane (Seu D'Urgele, XVth Century)"
Arianna Dec 2018
"Your mouth tastes like roses and your body like violets."

⸺ Adelheid Langmann (1306 – 1375), German nun and mystic recounting a vision of Christ.
I have excerpted this unusual and poetic quote from a wonderful book called “Holy Feast & Holy Fast” by Caroline Walker Bynum.
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