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Josiah Israel Jan 2017
by— Josiah Israel

Twas oft the way in days of old,
When knight would battle brave and bold,
The damsels hand in hopes to hold,
Worth more then polished Stone, or Gold
For this is what a boy is told
When day is done and night is cold…

“One day my son, thy chance will come
Though courage oft may waver,
When lady waits, through sable gates
For thee brave lad, to save her!”

For when a dragon stole a maid,
Awaiting ransom duly paid,
Twas bravest knight, armor arrayed  
With noble steed and burnished blade
Rode swiftly to the damsels aid…

“You have not birth of high degree
Yet be thou brave and fight,
For low in rank thy birth may be
Yet heart makes noble knight!”

And after facing beast and foe
The knight with maiden free would go
Away to fields in need of ***
For seeds ere winter need to grow
And none can reap who do not sow…

“Not all you do will win a prize
Of gold or silver bent,
So reap a harvest good in size
And be thee well content.”

And when the battle horn he hears
The knight must banish all his fears
And ride to war, with battle cheers
On maidens cheek alight her tears
Fearing death, she spends the years…

“To win renown in battle
Might also be your path,
May your enemies armor rattle
As they feel your righteous wrath!”

But after kings campaign is done
The knight to home will swiftly run
From dusk through night to rising sun
Till maiden sees her hero come
Heart moving swift, a beating drum
Yes she the prize which first he won!

“Home is best at warring's end
To be with those you cherish,
A place to rest, your wounds to mend
Where love will never perish”

Though all the kingdom knows his name
And minstrels spread the brave knights fame
His love for she, remains the same
And they live happily, Knight and Dame…
I love the medieval Ballad kind of poem. Alfred Lord Tennyson was my inspiration for this style :D
vos flèches clignotantes
(Your flashing spires)

vos dômes de glace
(Your domes of ice)

et ma peur du paradis éternel
(and my fear of eternal paradise)

vos reliques volées, vos os de porcelaine
(your stolen relics, your porcelain bones)

maintenant fait pauvre Bethléem entendre vos gémissements
(Now makes poor Bethlehem hear your moans)

vos châteaux vieillissants, vos portes nacrées
(your aging castles, your pearly doors)

exhumé dans les cendres du purgatoire
(Exhumed in the ashes of purgatory)
Good riddance.
patty m Apr 15
Notre Dame is burning to the ground
people are sobbing in the streets
all around the world.
How helplessly we watch  
as you become engulfed in flame.  
You endured everything,
the French Revolution and two world wars..  
standing as a beacon of Christianity and history
for 850 years.
Now the bones of your
cathedral lie fragile,  
as angels cry for the loss
of your majesty;
My heart too burns in anguish,
this Monday after Palm Sunday.
How beautifully you held your cross aloft
almost touching heaven with it's gleaming.
Peter B Apr 15
I saw an angel,
his wings on fire,
falling down
from the window
of the cathedral.

I saw an angel
falling down
and I cried,
for with his fall
I have died.
Sad day for art lovers...
Lilywhite Sep 2018
Oh the wayward motion that these celestial bodies tend to circumvent!
Do you take the time to analyze or ever wonder why?
A double edge sword, capable of discerning the heart’s intent
Might you care to venture there soon?

through crossed wires and code
yielding insight or an invite of some kind
with pictures, quotes, and anecdotes
Do you read between the lines?

Might I be the mirror that reflects your soul
Might I be the receiver of the light that guides you home
Might I be the kind of lady you’d want to pride around
Or Might I be a distant noise-- a sort of solemn sound

The way you shape your words, the thoughts you choose to speak
The many times you chose to share the inner-workings of your being
You plant a seed of hope, you give me life to breath

And even though you don’t think so, you’re quite a fantastic beast
IrieSide Apr 16
acient splendor of a city's identity
succumbing to nature's
greatest trick

everything falls apart,
even our gods
of stone
Chris Saitta Apr 24
You who have lifted up your sunburned face,
Long-told of peasant warmth and the forest tableaux.
Barefoot, you brought the book of hours upon dusty roads,
Ungoverned, little flower from Jeanne to Lourdes to Lisieux.
Our Lady, osculum pacis, the kiss of peace in wood and stone.

Burned out to those dusty eyes,
Now-empty look of rosework from the forest-fall of sunlight.
Medieval prayer, earthly-dim to its rafters of oak,
Come un-cinctured in ashen cloud of amice and alb,
And the murine blackness of plague-like smoke.

Birds that sit blinking at the winged fossil of intrados,
Pipe air through your own ribbed vaults, organum pulse.
Let the city rise in your vining voices—and hold the note.
The great ***** intones from the runs and pedal stops,
Along the turbid streets of the rue de la Cité to the empire of catacombs.

Beside his candle, the monk in sadness knows
All loveliness of heaven except his own.
Our Lady, every sunset is your faded candle hour of peace, for us to know.
Holy Father, so passes worldly glory,
Over the roofs of Paris like fire-scorned and leaden wings.
saige Sep 2018
I knew her

Looked like she'd dabbed blush on
Her eye sockets instead of
Her cheeks
And her hair was kinda dark, kinda stringy
She hadn't seen the sun since winter,
At least
But, never thought I'd see her lips
Go bluer than her eyes, but hey
Guess I coulda closed mine
Kinda like her folks did, long ago
First time she begged 'em to,
(ma, don't peek!)
Like it was some kinda surprise
A magic trick, more like
Vanishing act
That left the whole crowd
(all seven lanes of traffic)
Gasping, guessing,

Was she real?
Was she ever here at all?

Well, I was her
I think
Kayu Venture Apr 16
Notre Dame in flames.
i'm crying for my mother.
my Notre Dame that was eaten by inferno.
In Paris went through terror.
Notre Dame is bearer from all europeans .
Oh my mother how is suffer .
I see how your tears fall but is late.
Oh my Notre Dame how i love you so much .
My mother please wait.
Please don't fall into despair.
Oh heart from europe save your mother.
In Lisbon i see dark and sadness from the Paris.
the tears from all the parish.
My mother be stronger wait from more million years.
I fell to the ground when I saw your beauty disappear.
your Crown is gone and you know it's true.
Sky in Paris was blue, has became a dark and red
Oh my mother your are the fenix, you aren't dead yet
Willow Sophie May 24
Elle avait la peau de porcelaine,
des yeux malicieux,
une sourire narquois.
La forêt verdoyante
était sa place de refuge,
où elle pourrait parler à l'homme
dans la lune
sans problème.
Au dessous de la lumière formidable
de la pleine lune,
les personnes du village l'appelaient
la dame blanche.
Burning at the very gates of Heaven,
The raging flames of Hell engulf
What two wars and the plague
Could never ****.

Brought down by a careless worker
Who must learn to live
With what he’s caused,
While a city falls down to its knees.

Precious Paris, you wept with us
When the Twin Towers fell, so now
We reach out for your trembling hand
In comfort and in sorrow shared.
I lived through a Cathedral fire where I work, and  I know the heartbreak, so my heart goes out to Paris.  They may not always treat us nicely but they don't deserve this.
Lawrence Hall Apr 23
-President Macron

Your privacy is guaranteed
There’s nothing to see here, nothing
He died while trying to escape
Now, then, this might sting a little

Winning the hearts and minds of the people
A light at the end of the tunnel
Lose weight without diet or exercise
We will never sell your information

Uploaded unintentionally
Oh, sure, I’ll pay you back next week
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
Here comes the sun little darling's
We all get burned
 Is it your turn
Oh! Where I thou
"Green light Diner"
It's telling us to Go
    *       *       *
The Earth beauty faces
I will be your direct sunlight
In plain sight to the daylight
her blossom tree
All I ask come for me
Her face could eat
The divine flower laced

French brie
Tie a yellow ribbon on me
We have so much to see
Let it be sun-face Moms
apple pies
The Sun  "Watchtower"
Someone knocks you off
Your "Bill" on the Ice Queen

The Goddess rodeo waitress
She got you roped in between
The cigarette 1940 case hostess
I suppose the sunflowers every booth
her smile sets in place

The stain-glass window Notre Dame
Rock and roll hall of fame
The earth kids rainbow chalk
Sun-fun treetops like a beanstalk
Napoleon Elementary Watson
New Jersey Diner capital admission
The Peking duck *** luck

European beauty hunter's menu
Any luck this will be awhile sip "Starbucks"

1-Antipasti cute Shiba Uni
2-Consomme Chicken soup
3-Sun-face to the soul fruit loop
4-Chicken pepper Salsa
Sun-face lights up Visa
5-Hearts of Artichokes Mona Lisa
6-Soy ****** salmon
My sun worshiper man

Fish tacos hummus
St Thomas
Rome was not build
In one day
The windpipes and
the tablecloths Oh! yikes
Full of dream pipes

Sun tan stripes and zebras
Couscous salad big star dipper
Egyptian Gods camels back
Sun-face diner no time
for the sun-chip snack
Diners from 1920-1940
Sun-face air force dresses

Medieval times two swords
Holy lords Easter parades
" Ice-cream Spumoni"
Dinner in the sky
Robin red breast fly
Italian artwork Coliseum
Look up in the sky
It's a bird shaped
Paper plane bad romance
going insane

Waffle House  jukebox rock and roll
Hall of fame whats in a food name
Cowboy steaks American Flags
Cajun chicken legs fruits and figs
At the caboose Ladybird jet lag
Valentine Diner chairs
got footloose homemade goose

Purple rain Prince maple
Bananas and strawberry fields
lake sun in shape of a snowflake
Forest Gump changes to
Presidential Trump
Vitamin C  honey bunches of Oats

Yummy floats of egg cream
Open table Sun-face dream
Eggs light she's not finished
over easy
Pristine of carrots with
artful daisies
Thanksgiving turkey

Rings of napkins holding
A time well-bred marriage
Well known landmarks of
Long ago time she saw the light
Daylight Knight like a scale to weight

Whispers of wine and grapes
Sun face courtesan love escape
Sun Faces trillion times mansion
Sun-faces never go out of fashion
Sun faces and dinner places the best in the world eat heartily Drive in and Diners all over the world have a medieval touch with the Vikings and melodies from the heart  of the surface  her smile will always be there everywhere she goes the Diners place her with Rose
Grace E Apr 15
Her vast history rises in flames
To lose her is such a sin
Perhaps the bells of Notre Dame
Will never ring again
It is so haunting to watch a beautiful peice of history that has stood through 2 world wars and is so monumental rise is smoke and flame. My heart is heavy today for Paris. My heart is heavy for Notre Dame. :(
Across this Height from the Land of Swell Tea
The Second Great Angel offers her Palm
Waving, for Frustration to leave me be
And guide the Wildman to induce his Calm
No affront passed for Virtue to behave
When some cry the Vandal for no reason
He comes to charge; But out defends the Knave,
Jousting him off for another Good Season
In you the Friendly Pearl forms; And no doubt,
This lingering Fever affects most Girls
But like your Seven stood still on a Cloud,
Yet keeps the Spell for Good Passion to burn.
Lucky Dear Dame, such Title you will bear
Enjoy your Earnings; Your Man is now there.
#daleysangels #jdilara_w
G Rog Rogers Aug 2017
Fly with me to Paris
and We will climb
the Eiffel Tower
We'll see the Louvre
And walk along
the Avenue des
Champs Elysees

We will walk
alone together
along the great
Seine River
And latch
a lovers lock
upon the bridge
above the water

We can picnic
on the grass
in the grandest
park in Paris

Then embrace
within the shadows
of Notre Dame
Where there
We'll swear
Our love
forever sure

We will seal it
with a kiss
And know We
never missed
The times
and places
that make
A life



Ashly Kocher Apr 15
A symbol of faith
A part of history
Worshiped prayers
Stained glass windows
Gargoyle statues
Architectural beauty
Heart of Paris
Up in flames
Smoldering down
Now it falls
Hearts breaking
Sad day in history
As millions throughout the world have seen
Experiencing the masterpiece and pure beauty in this gothic creation
As it is Holy Week, around the world
We celebrate the rise and fall of life itself
Hoping that God will restore structure and life through the rubble and ashes
Symbolizing what God did for us, all of us...
We may not know or understand why, but we will always remember to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and rise above it all

“There exists in this era, for thoughts written in stone, a privilege absolutely comparable to our current freedom of the press. It is the freedom of architecture.”
Narrator from The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Lillian May Apr 15
History was destroyed and made all at once today.
Notre Dame in bright, brilliant flames.
850 years of history, class trips, memories,
singed and gone.
Everything has it's time, I suppose.
But I had a friend who wanted to meet that building,
who wanted to soak in it's secrets and stories.
And now that dream is ashy and unattainable.
Spectacular spire, it fell.
And with it, our hearts.
For many centuries,
She stood majestically.
She saw many tragedies,
but have stood defiantly.

When disaster struck,
She emerged unscaled.
It's not just by sheer luck,
On her, our Lord was nailed.

Amidst the charred ruins,
and the hot burning flames...
As if reborn with spread wings,
she radiated like ten light beams.

The cross at Notre Dame,
like Jesus on the cross of Calvary,
took it all until the firemen came.
The cross at Notre Dame will never go away.


This was inspired by another poet's work...credits
Paul Hansford May 2016
~ ~ (on front of envelope)

La lettre que voici, ô bon facteur,
Portez-la jusqu'à la ville de NICE,
Donnez-la, s'il vous plaît, au Receveur

Des Postes, au bureau de NOTRE DAME.
Faut-il vraiment que je vous le rappelle?)
Cette lettre est pour lui et pour sa femme.

I won't lead English postmen such a dance;
Just speed this letter on its way to FRANCE.
Sender's address you'll find on the reverse.

~ ~ (and on the back)*

At Number 7 in St Swithun's Road,
Kennington, Oxford, there is the abode
Of me, Paul Hansford, writer of this verse.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -
For non-speakers of French, the first bit goes approximately -
"Dear Postman, Please take this letter to the town of Nice, in the département of Alpes-Maritimes, and give it to the postmaster at the Notre-Dame office. (His name? It's Lucien Coquelle. Do I really need to remind you?) This letter is for him and his wife."
More expert readers may notice that this is written in pentameter, whilst a real French one would have been in hexameter, with twelve-syllable lines.

BTW, this is from the archive, so the addresses are no longer current.
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018

The Dame stands before me,
droplets of sorrow falling
from her eyes

A sad, vulnerable beauty...

But little did I know that she
was a delicate calamity

whose body is made from
screams of the howling

A false crown made from
a long dead sun

Eyes as cool and cold
and cunning as a viper

And a heart long since

Thank goodness I've cut out such people from my life....
Lyn x
eleanor prince Sep 2018
(contains references to sensitive issues)

She’s just a babe
he’s only two
of youth refill
they’re broken in

but leave no mark  
so they're unspoiled
for clients booked
it's all arranged

no tracks you'll leave
their brain's not through
not 'til they’re three
so chill out dame

the program works
divert impel
‘'you crazy sh-t
here take this pill’

nobody hears
if told some tales
but they won't talk
their lips are sealed

from dot they’re trained
they’re here for us
don't have to guess
‘you talk, you die!’

so pay the fee
their price is high
and bring this dog
they’ll do it all

and shouldn’t you
take all you're due
you work real hard-
on nectar sup
Stop! Not so quick
for veils can lift
and imprints made
don’t ever die

archival facts
reveal themselves
when day arrives
you’ll face the Judge

and when you breach
a petal new
it injures both
and gear stick shifts

you've soiled life's bed
with squalid stains
now own the Sh-t
says mirror man


             
From time to time an instance comes to light involving well-organized abuse at an almost unimaginable level.  Children from a very young age are trained to provide all manner of ****** services to meet the demands of deviant and sadistic clients.  Contrary to what people may think, this happens not just in so-called 'third-world countries,' but in more prosperous lands too.  

Even where there is significant corroboration for the veracity of such accounts, survivors can suffer the further indignity of not being believed.  There is some movement and improvement in knowledge but more needs to be acknowledged and understood, not only by colleagues and other professionals providing care, but society at large.  

It all makes one ponder what leads a perpetrator to act this way.  Whilst it helps to understand some act out trauma they themselves received, it is unacceptable behaviour, is still a criminal offence - and it hurts others.   We all have choice to decide ahead what we would do if offered an easy way to cross that line.  Decency requires we resolve to remember who we want to be in essence and retain this reality check:  how would I feel if this was my wife, my child?   Refuse to abuse another.  

Some boundaries simply should never be breached, even if one is promised immunity from repercussions, e.g. told 'the child won't remember – it won’t hurt them.'   Many victims do remember and either way, such incursions rob them of a normal life, something many take for granted.  The truth is they are massively, negatively affected on one level or another, often in multiple ways, at whatever age such incursions take place.  

The reality is that transgressing on another's boundaries on any level not only harms the recipient but also those violating others.  It alters and destroys something in the offender, immediately recognizable or not, and by extension the wider community is affected.  

On looking in the mirror an offender may see at best a deluded half-life.  As my poem concludes, who would want to be meeting that inner witness to their corrupt and heartless behaviour, their real character looking back at them through the 'man* in the mirror...'

*(either gender can offend - some women sexually abuse too.  When a perpetrator takes a good look in the mirror of reality, they may well find themselves  confronted with the enormity of what they have done, and who they have become)
Iska Apr 18
For a moment today...
my heart stopped.

When I was a little girl I stood in awe,
Before the beauty that was Notre Dame.
It was only a picture,
but in it I saw the marvel that was Notre Dame.

And so as a girl I dreamed
To feel her bells reverberate through my soul,
To draw her beauty with inadequate talent
To one day stand before grand Notre Dame.

And now she is burning.
Dressed in red
Her heart is on fire
as the flames hungrily sought to accomplish
that which two wars and a plague could not,
To consume beloved Notre Dame.

856 years she has witnessed
856 years her regal beauty has graced us
856 years Her bells have sounded for so many souls

And in what seemed like seconds
Notre Dame...

Is gone.

The trembling ash coated skeleton
of her existence is all that remains
of the glory that was Notre Dame

And if you are silent you may still hear the bells
ringing through out the earth,
crying for Notre Dame.
And now as she goes in a blaze of beauty..
I too cry for Notre Dame.

for a moment today...
my heart stopped.

and as I behold that what is left
of the burning heart of Paris..
I am unsure it will start again.
my heart has broken
Micheal Wolf Aug 2012
I've never been to Paris in the spring summer or fall
Nor seen the Champs-Élysées blanketed in winters fresh snow
I've never seen it, Why? As I could never go alone

I seemed to miss the part where two lovers met and kissed or stood for 20 minuites in a passionate embrace
Then slowley walk together hand in hand in the rain, along the banks of the river of romance, the Siene

I'm not in the lovers photographs, beneath the Eiffel tower or the playful Quasimodo pose outside of Notre Dame
You won't see me in any of them, for I was never there, because while my lover travelled I stayed and built a home, a place we could call our own.

But bigger and better was never enough your greed for things was just to much then one day off you went as you didn't hear a word I'd said
To you by now I was simply staff and just like them I was sacked

But now alone I look at things and know what I can do
Change the way I look at life and why I never went with you
For Paris is for lovers and not just those who share the rent

So one day I'll go to Paris, even if I am alone
I shall walk the streets and see the sights that lovers call their own
Who knows If I'm the only one who needs to make that trip
Do others think of it the same in reverence and wish?
One day i'll go to *** Paris and a blank post card  I shall send
"From Paris" with a smiley face
"I learnt to love myself".....
A picture of the tower or a snap outside the Louvre
No senders address

From Paris
With Love
Noone Feb 12
Queiro abrazarte
Queiro besarte
Queiro vivir contigo
Por favor dame una oportunidad...
Taking spanish classes. So tried to write a poem. XOXO..
My Eyes, to confiscate those Notes on-board
My Ears, to abduct those shrill Tunes a-light
My Hands, to guide the Maestro of the Word
My Tongue, to speak of their Meaning's Delight
My Mind, to sprinkle the Seeds of their Songs
My Heart, to skip Jolly Tunes with a Jig
My Spirit, to sponge my Past Living Wrongs
My Soul, to sing your Legacy so big
My Hands, to applaud the Kingdom's New Band
My Chest, to parallel Vibes to your Beat
My Legs, to absorb that Brilliant New Dance
My Feet, to seal this Friendship with your Creed.
These Parts sum; Three Sick Sires and a Dame
And how my Laurels want to know their Name.
Marla Jun 25
Guitarra divina,
Con sus cuerdas finas,
Ahórcame con su lasso
Y dame otra vida.
Emeka Mokeme Apr 16
How magnificent and
majestical the greatest
cathedral of all times
stood over 840 years,
hovering over France
with protective pride.
Towering as if
you want to
touch heaven.
Your beauty so
divine and beautiful.
Kings and Queens
and nobles of old
have sat within
your chambers.
With solemn calmness
you enfold the
worshipers with bliss.
None could resist
your beauty to
bring you harm,
only but now
by the hands of
the unknown ungodly
sadist who has
no fear of
truth and God.
You stood the
test of time
to tell us the
stories of old,
whisperings into our
ears the secrets
of the ancients.
You witnessed the
most horrendous
and countless wars,
yet they could
not bring you down,
even the ****.
Angels are weeping
for your glory is lost.
The heart of
the people of France
and the world are
broken to see how
low and degrading
they brought you.
Your cross stood
majestically as you
burn down refusing
to give up with ease.
Your beauty and
glory is eternally
etched in our hearts.
You will always
be remembered.
Notre Dame,
the Lord God
who dwelled within
your chambers
will not forget.
He saw your
fragile heart and
your helplessness  
as you burn.
But never mind,
he will definitely
do something.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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