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ArianLlwyn Mar 31
They say the sun shines bright
Beyond the hills of night.

Perhaps one day I might
See this beautiful light.

For now my days are dark
My dreams are nightmares wrought.
Filomena Mar 4
When on a modern battlefield,
You shouldn't wield a wooden shield.
Sometimes I find that less is more, when I try to write a metaphor.
(Same idea as last poem but less elaborate.)
Filomena Mar 4
On this one bit I will not yield:
When on a modern battlefield
Where not one thought can be concealed
As hidden things can be revealed

You Shouldn't Wield a Wooden Shield
Simple idea worked out over a few days.
Zhavaed Haemaed May 2020
The fortress that which is your mind
May find not such turmoil as harsh
And instead might as well, rejoice
The shackles which at present bind
Or may be, but it shall doth budge
The resolve of its castles strong
And surely not, it shall not smudge
Ordeal undertook by genial souls
What may be, will have then begun
Fear not, have faith on the virtuous
Path; Think not, what if but of the
Good, that has_ and in time you will
Clearly see; mental tenacity will be
Yours, decreed; Have just clear head
Upon thy broadsword. Nothing else
Will have; or will ever matter more !
Reflections inside CoViD ICU as a duty doctor.
co'brien May 2019
Let not our humble minds admit
That we are better than the rest;
Lest we ourselves our fates forfeit
To those who jeer and **** and jest.
Let not our thinking hearts believe
Love must belong to fools like them;
Such noble strains as hearts must grieve:
Second to none; none to condemn.
Let not our wills be resolute,
Never able to bend or change;
Pity the strength of duller brutes.
So trust in life’s sordid exchange:
Though we will fall and surely die,
We too, one day, shall live to sigh.
so it's iambic tetrameter, sue me
Filomena Nov 2018
walking the graveyard with a torch and a Sack
I once went with only the clothes on my Back
feeling full Force the weight of the Course
I'm obliged to continue along the dark Track
Wrote this one in my head while walking home from work a few months ago.
Filomena Nov 2018
Solitary creature in the Wilderness
Scared of even those of your own Kind
Staying out of reach of those too Curious
Singing out at night your haunting Cry

Is there some great secret that you Know about
Try to keep the mystery you Must
Deep and sacred knowledge you would Show about
If only there were someone you could Trust

  Can I tame them? Should I try?
  Can they tell me the reason why
  I Felt as though my heart could break
  All for a common rose's sake

when Someone seems Unique in all the World to me
the Reason is the Time spent making Ties
for Only with the Heart can one the Truth perceive
Essential things are Hidden from the Eyes

  Have they tamed me? Did they try?
  Have they shown me the reason why
  I Felt as though my heart could break
  All for a common rose's sake

I Looked for wisdom but I found a Friend instead
Companionship I know was meant to Be
but Even so, all good things must soon Reach an End
my Dearest friend I will no longer See

  They have tamed me, them have I
  and Now I know the reason why
  I Felt as though my heart would break
  For Naught,
but my very own special Rose's sake

-for the Fox
Inspired by The Little Prince.
Daviaso Feb 2018
I find that paper lends itself
Excellently to flow of thought;
Far better than keystrokes and light.

A screen blasts its presence forward;
Takes what is does not possess and
Flings it into our tired eyes.

Paper takes what it is given
And dutifully holds it close
Until decay does to it part.

Like a soldier brave and hardy
It values its charge most highly
And gives up its life before it.
This is unfinished, both in idea and form.  At some future date I would like to revisit this, flesh it out, and put it in a proper meter instead of this freeform tetrameter.
JR Rhine Jul 2017
How long behind Bob Dylan’s Shades—
smoke furls and curls among the glass—
before a man belies his fame?

The corner of the room pervades—
imbued with smoke if so to pass—
How long behind Bob Dylan’s Shades?

Visage so cool but starts to jade;
will eyes see through and to surpass,
before a man belies his fame?

Caught in the great aesthetical wake,
the fans will bend and surge en masse—
How long behind Bob Dylan’s Shades?

His words, his voice, depict a sage—
I wonder if the lore will last
before a man belies his fame.

But once the petals cease to sway
and blades blow back a pompous ***—
How long behind Bob Dylan’s shades,
before a man belies his fame?
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