#lute
A blade of silver, sharp and cold
A loyal terror, fierce and bold
Behind the mask of LED light
She is the purging gale of night
No mercy shows in golden eyes
Beneath the vast, unyielding skies
She follows where the leader leads
To fulfill important tasks and needs
With halo bright and wings of steel
She helps decide who stands or kneels
The "Lieutenant" with a will of stone
Who helps protect the heavenly throne
To her, the world seems black and white
The righteous path, the demon night
A soldier born for a cause so grand
She holds authority in command
Jan 16
Jan 16, 2026 at 10:36 AM UTC
The lonely bard sits
in the shade of a tree
strumming his lute
for you and me
he has been rhyming for quite some time
born with a gift
he plays, and plays
his fingers so swift
Alas, no one will pass
but he keeps on playing
he will stay here forever
even when his body starts decaying
He has become a legend
but what is left to see
a finely carven lute
resting next to a tree
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 1:23 PM UTC
I've written this story,
Thousands of times in my head.
But when it comes to pen and paper,
I run out of things to be said.
The bard, the mire, the sleuth
His lute, his fear, his truth.
Traveller through time,
His words chill the spine.
Oh, weaver of tales,
Hunter of lies.
Falter not to failure,
Or meet demise.
Songs will save thee,
Open all eyes to see.
Though the devil is in the details,
His chord, echoes on all that fails.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
The bard feels all sung out
As the world around him sleeps
He is the only one left
In the right sense of mind
Who doesn't feel strung out
So he sets to write a merry tune
'pon his lute so fine
For come the morning
When the people awake
An old tune just won't shine
He tries and tries
Till the **** does crow
But sadly sunrise comes
The women start to knead their dough
To cook their breakfast buns
And the poor old Bard
In this moment did find
Of songs he wrote not a single one
And he now is out of time
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 4:26 AM UTC
I
Keats I can feel your pain deep below
Poetry is slowly killing me, Oh the flow
Help me find the musical glow
It’s up to her music’s poetry to save me
Or is it all in my mind?
Or is it to unkind?
I could do better than that-ignoring her-
II
I relax in my poetic space for awhile
Looking at this page of doubt
Fixating my mind in spheres
The glorious sound of music’s hell
She screams in bed while I play her shell
I think about all of her leers and fears-
III
******** her makes me move
Playing the lute, or should I say electricity
I only found out she only knew
I’m only there for her new-news
Irresistible love games and screws
She’s trying my luck- It’s time to leave-
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC