#rime
FIT THE FIRST – The Tale Untold
It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There was a ship,' quoth he.
'The crewmen hunted down a snark,
And sailed across the sea.'
The wedding-guest here squeezed his breast
And broke the seaman's hold.
'I've gotta go,' he said to him
Whose tale was left untold.
Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 1:05 AM UTC
A hero looks much better on a horse.
If even he is from the air-force.
😊
Feb 3, 2024
Feb 3, 2024 at 6:51 PM UTC
The cold is my commander, it taunts me, while it steals my sheaths of warmer cleaving skin sections exposed by its notions and collected conscious. The sounds are complicated, the moons azurean hue resembles the coldness of my cigarette's embers blue, and then the commander shucks my final breath away. It isn't something that I barely feel, but rather something that lightly see. It's hoarfrost births its fickle shell of hardrime on the last of those interstices I once called my fingers. And from this choke, this frozen voice is detained by the vox ice amplifier that steals each noise. Besides, in an interruption I hear our whorish neighbors score of shouting scripted shouts, and screaming scripted screams. Each day she becomes less and less like any real human being. It's hard to believe that behind these walls that shield me from the albicant and atrocious heraldry winter casts me through, these sounds are concentric like limited Earth words written in the prompts that some ill and wanton succubus would. If only to lure herself from the pains she gained while lying to those amidst her closest ties. I am further distressed, though fully dressed narrowly watching bits of frozen water interlace themselves beneath freezing in the corners of my mind. When until the shaking and commandeering of my mortal sounds, disperse amidst the ferocity that Spring white snow absconds. The tremulent vocal chords are hailed by a hard-rimed **** who ensuingly rips the cantering spirit from each last place it stood. Only those who know this wind could speak about the way it genuflects and obsesses on these rules. This freezing genuflection hails to every servant of its rein, I can barely exhale the inspiration that rises from the head, until any skin exposed to air is reclaimed by my commander for good. Then each neighbor's head may lilt upon the piste, and pray for something more balmy than negative eleven degrees.
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 2:25 AM UTC
Come in, come in and enjoy the fun, the fun will begin when it is done.
My dream was all in rime. There were no breaks at any time.
If you couldn't think of a rime, you would sing or mime.
There was this tall colourful clown
as I entered the show he sat me down.
His name was something I couldn't pronounce
but being his friend is what counts.
He was very mad and very sad,
he reminded me of the mad hatter,
but crazier with his chatter.
I have a fear of polka dots, But Even more of forget me NOTS!
I loved my dream, I wish I could have it again
that's why I wrote it down with this book and pen.
so ill always remember my crazy friend.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
There shalt cometh a time,
Kindled will be every rime,
Those who dislike them be pauper,
Those who like them will earn a zillion dime!
There shalt cometh a time,
Sailed will be every rime,
Those who sabotage shalt meet the reaper,
Those who help them will earn a lifetime!
There shalt cometh a time,
Loving will not be a crime,
Those who loved will be keeper,
Those who won't will repent after lifetime!
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC