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We're racing to our headstones and I'm leading the pack
Zero rationality left here to extract
Decided to listen to own judgement first
I admit in the past it's been the worst
My tears help me float when I collapse
Circles round my heart til I find a hold to graspt
Mind and emotions seem to disagree
Act hard because I am softer than I'd like to be
Sometimes the toughest people are the most sensitive inside
Mark Wanless Mar 7
the dogs of life they
they tell me what to do please i
want to be of pack
A wolf in the jungle
Leaving my pack far behind,
I was howling for you.
Lance May 2020
Black Sheep,Black Sheep
Fade away
Black Sheep, Black Sheep
Go Away

Always living A lie
Many wanting you to die
Yet always crawling to survive
Despite never wanted to be alive

Wishing to take part
But being torn Apart
Black Sheep among the white
Always getting the Bite

Why walk
When always given the talk
Why continue on
When only wanted to be gone

Black Sheep, Black Sheep
Stay away
Black Sheep, Black Sheep
Never stay
I have always felt left out by my family, always the odd one out, the outcast or the person always yelled at. I try to fight but I always end up short. And that's when they told me they never wished me to be here anyway. And I knew I was the black sheep among the white. Always different. Always left alone.
Poetic T Apr 2020
Watching as my wares are consumed
within this vessel carrying
              my world.
Checking as if I were
                 revising for that exam..

If I fail..

       My heart palpitating as beads
of sweat congregate upon every
Dripping into pools of reality..

Wish I was there, locking my door I breath...
Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Wulf and Eadwacer
anonymous Anglo-Saxon poem, circa 960 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My clan’s curs pursue him like crippled game.
They’ll rip him apart if he approaches their pack.
It is otherwise with us.

Wulf’s on one island; we’re on another.
His island’s a fortress fastened by fens.
Here, bloodthirsty curs howl for carnage.
They’ll rip him apart if he approaches their pack.
It is otherwise with us.

My thoughts pursued Wulf like panting hounds.
Whenever it rained—how I wept!—
the boldest cur grasped me in his paws.
Good feelings for him, but for me, loathsome!
Wulf, O, my Wulf, my ache for you
has made me sick; your infrequent visits
have left me famished, deprived of real meat!
Do you hear, Eadwacer? Watchdog!
A wolf has borne our wretched whelp to the woods.
One can easily sever what never was one:
our song together.

Originally published by Measure

"Wulf and Eadwacer" may be the oldest poem in the English language written by a female poet. It has been classified as an elegy, a lament, an early ballad or villanelle, a riddle, a charm, and a frauenlieder or "woman's song." This famously ambiguous poem is hard to pin down!

Keywords/Tags: Wulf, Eadwacer, Anglo-Saxon, Old English, translation, wolf, pack, ****, whelp, baby, child, dogs, curs, hounds, island, fens, woods, sacrifice, song, sever, severed

Bede's Death Song
ancient Old English/Anglo-Saxon lyric poem, circa 735 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Facing Death, that inescapable journey,
who can be wiser than he
who reflects, while breath yet remains,
on whether his life brought others happiness, or pains,
since his soul may yet win delight's or night's way
after his death-day.

Bede's "Death Song" is one of the best poems of the fledgling English language now known as Old English or Anglo-Saxon English. Written circa 735 AD, the poem may have been composed by Bede on his death-bed. It is the most-copied Old English poem, with 45 extant versions. The poem is also known as "Bede's Lament." It was glossed by a 13th century scribe known as the Tremulous Hand of Worchester because of the "shaky" nature of his handwriting.

Was the celebrated scholar known and revered as the Venerable Bede also one of the earliest Anglo-Saxon poets? The answer appears to be "yes," since Bede was "doctus in nostris carminibus" ("learned in our song") according to his most famous disciple, Saint Cuthbert.

Cuthbert's letter on Bede's death, the "Epistola Cuthberti de obitu Bedae," is commonly taken by modern scholars to indicate that Bede composed the five-line vernacular Anglo-Saxon poem known as "Bede’s Death Song." However, there is no way to be certain that Bede was the poem's original author.

Bede (673–735) is known today as Saint Bede, Good Bede and Venerable Bede (Latin: Beda Venerabilis). One may thus conclude that he was held in extremely high regard by his peers. The name Bede may be related to the Anglo-Saxon word for prayer, "bed."

Bede was a English Benedictine monk of the Northumbrian monastery of Saint Peter at Monkwearmouth and of its companion monastery Saint Paul's in Wearmouth-Jarrow. Both monasteries were at the time part of the Kingdom of Northumbria. Bede, a distinguished scholar, had access to a library which included works by Eusebius and Orosius, among others. His most famous work, "Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum" ("The Ecclesiastical History of the English People"), has resulted in Bede being called "the Father of English History." Bede has also been called the "Father of the footnote" because he was "the first author in any language to rigorously trace his sources, and as a result he set a precedent of scholarly accuracy for writers across the range of disciplines." He was also a skilled linguist and translator whose Latin and Greek writings contributed significantly to early English Christianity.
Joz Sep 2019
I took the first stick out of its pack,
light it up and began to think back.
The 'hello' we had back then,
in the airport I went.

I took the second stick out of its pack,
light it up and began to think back.
The type of happiness that has gone for long;
as I realized your heart is a place I don't belong.

Wednesday, 04 September 2019
Kewayne Wadley Jun 2019
Far away from here
I lay in the deepest corner of your mind.
I've packed my bags
in search of the many times
you've kissed the air.
The new sights and events
seen through your eyes.
I packed light
knowing the most essential thing
was reaching at least one of a million
of your passed thoughts.
Far away from here,
I've missed you so much.
When I close my eyes
I am there with you.
I packed light knowing that my favorite
everything resides where you are
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