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"descendeth" poems
*A Poeme from ye Penne of ye right learned Professor Peter Buttocke collected by hysse Pupille Edna* There is an ancient Shittah in my Garden, eldritch and right dun in alle Aspect Wherein dwelleth a loude and noisome Ouzel, ye like of which I have ne'er yet seen Under thysse our goode Goddes fayre Welkin up in ye Skye above us alle. This foule and unwholesome Beeste, with trespassynge shote-like ****** Effusiones Hath performed ye veritable Antithesis of kindly horticultural Edulcoration For whiche Sinne I shall emasculate ye Brute, so God may grant me Pow'r. Sudating at ye Nostrilles I advance, my trustie Stang at ye ever-ready, And I prepare to eject it from yon Pollard, having previous shattered Alle its horryd Frangibles with one brave bolde frampold Blowe. Thwacke! A last Piffero-reminiscent Warble escapeth loude from its fowle coronoid Appendage; Right severe Damage and harsh fatal Ruine of Nature irreversible have I caused To ye shaggie shamelesse little avian Runte, whereon Goddes smile hath ne'er dawned. Thus descendeth it to the Faeces-bedecked Herdwick, and I titubate triumph'lly o'er its conticent Corpse. And were there yet a duodenary Set of ye Frass-Depositors, I would not give a Demi-Testrel for their Survyvall Should they e'er again infringe the sacred Privacie whych ye ancient Shittah enjoyeth in my Garden.
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Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
Ye Ouzel In My Shittah
As dusk settles into her short lived throne Night waits in the sky ready to cover the world, In her utter darkness The sun fights for those last rays Clinging onto the orb Trying to hold onto his lofty reign But alas night descendeth on the Earth His shroud covering the heavens The stars puncture through the inky blackness The moon rises and gives light to all that prowl Night reigns with a mighty fist and lingers almost endlessly Every little shadow is hers Every cave she claims As the sun struggles into the sky once again Helios driving his fiery chariot Night goes willingly knowing she has left her mark upon this globe For night has always been... But always, always, always there is a shimmer of hope in our hearts And in the world there shines the population with life so vital and So glorious that night can never truly win Once night ruled the sky and the very air we breath with a cold iron first ******* all that was life from the world But the light has come and with him comes his Resonating, clear hope into the world and Into the souls of the people Light, life. and hope intertwined
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Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 2:11 PM UTC
Lumiens Oriens
When eve's dark hand descendeth, dropping, Where fancies creep and whisperings invite to linger here, She sits upon waters gray as stone, Veiled in thought, the world stunned and far from here. The pond gives back lights from ****** and vain, A whirl of gold, a promise of delight, But underneath the green and brooding quiet Lie unrevealed secrets, and unbetrayed fates disposed. She sits calm, a word unspoken In mind, peace to stay and be given. City noises, music so far, But here she'll reside, peace recovered. The furrowed brow in contemplation, Of bygone days, of union. World so big now— But all that it contains is here, within.
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Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 10:37 AM UTC
Whispers by the Water