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"forsworn" poems
I miss Lydia I lost her from my side I wanted so much for her to be my bride now I feel so lost She told me she was my sword and shield I took her with me across many a field but now I pay the cost. I need her by my side she fought so well from the Draugr, Bandits, the Forsworn and Dragons I cast many a spell she held me very tight at nights so that she could defrost. Lydia Lydia Lydia I call you're name why am I so heart broken it's just a game. I am now heavily laden items must get tossed I might have to start this game anew but that would make me feel so blue I made it to Whiterun and the forest I crossed I searched and searched for you as far as Markarth when will you join me once more and satisfy my heart I have come to a final point and feel extreme exhaust.
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Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 9:13 PM UTC
Skyrim
On a day—alack the day!— Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind All unseen ‘gan passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; Air, would I might triumph so! But, alack, my hand is sworn Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn: Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet! Do not call it sin in me That I am forsworn for thee; Thou for whom e’en Jove would swear Juno but an Ethiop were; And deny himself for Jove, Turning mortal for thy love.
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7.4k
The Blossom
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disablèd And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscalled simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill. Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that to die, I leave my love alone.
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4.7k
Sonnet 066: Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry
Take, O take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn! But my kisses bring again, Bring again; Seals of love, but seal’d in vain, Seal’d in vain!
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2.9k
Take, O Take Those Lips Away
~for Steve R. & Stephen Y.~ *"two regrets are mine - not finding you earlier in life when...words would have carved for me a better road, and...not hand-ing you a touch, the perfect tightness-shake of one's hand reserved for fondest friends and the light press on one's back deserved for dearest brothers!" ~~~* the light press surety of five fingers on one, oh, what messages it composes, oh, what duty weighty it transmits dear brothers: tho this hands-on handoff, this fly-over, is still a   mission unaccomplished, yet no regrets, please! men don't overuse superlatives, what you lovingly uncover in my rocket-verbal Mars probes, is more telling, more revealing of who you are, than any hand-tightness shake, any touching grasp, could e'er convey yet I promise, forsworn upon the cross of the north west Pacifico latitude and longitude a latitude that just happens to intersect my olden, new english state, knowing that Interstate 90 a straight transcontinental shot, and the car keys just an impulse grab away to tell your arms, your face, your back, our hands, that when you love my poetry, you love me, you friends, are an affirmation of Pablo Neruda's words: ***"whoever discovers who I am discovers who you are"*** fondness is not distance constrained, touching grasps pay no obeisance to time, the honor of your affection permanent affirmed and enflamed, all mine, sublime, to lead my heart, where to lay hands upon your back, to realize even more our single united rhyme
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 4:58 PM UTC
"whoever discovers who I am, discovers who you are"
~for Steve R. & Stephen Y.~ *"two regrets are mine - not finding you earlier in life when...words would have carved for me a better road, and...not hand-ing you a touch, the perfect tightness-shake of one's hand reserved for fondest friends and the light press on one's back deserved for dearest brothers!" ~~~* the light press surety of five fingers on one, oh, what messages it composes, oh, what duty weighty it transmits dear brothers: tho this hands-on handoff, this fly-over, is still a   mission unaccomplished, yet no regrets, please! men don't overuse superlatives, what you lovingly uncover in my rocket-verbal Mars probes, is more telling, more revealing of who you are, than any hand-tightness shake, any touching grasp, could e'er convey yet I promise, forsworn upon the cross of the north west Pacifico latitude and longitude a latitude that just happens to intersect my olden, new english state, knowing that Interstate 90 a straight transcontinental shot, and the car keys just an impulse grab away to tell your arms, your face, your back, our hands, that when you love my poetry, you love me, you friends, are an affirmation of Pablo Neruda's words: ***"whoever discovers who I am discovers who you are"*** fondness is not distance constrained, touching grasps pay no obeisance to time, the honor of your affection permanent affirmed and enflamed, all mine, sublime, to lead my heart, where to lay hands upon your back, to realize even more our single united rhyme
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37
she was a fiery soul emotions spilled out of her cup like a bittersweet wine an aftertaste of tears salty as the sea rushing beneath me heartfelt as the lonely moonrise burning like the hearth of home remembered vivid but far inviting you back from your cold journeys the faceless sea's of humanity's wanderlust from the dark romances of uncaring hearts feel your heartbeat thunder in the stillness hearing your tear ravaged breathing as you struggle to find solace in sleep her words carried on the thick air remembered vivid but far like swans floating on the still waters of childhood like images my heart paints when her electric touch torches my soul she leaves a wake of silence and appreciative eyes behind her drifting the worlds ways she comes to my bed now slips into my cold sheets and with lips forsworn to her fiery tongue's wicked ways and crafts a bird from blood and bone a flightless swan that will forever be companion to to my seasong moonrise comes with a silence that my heart can never greet with joy
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Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 5:19 PM UTC
moonrise
I woke up adrift this morning Guilt a million leagues deep Nothing done is undone This Morning Apologies do not come free The sun which glistens Upon the drops Between my moistened Thighs Carry this morning's Sin Trembling ashamed Of the lust which came Into me last night My mouth has forsworn this place My darling, forgive me Please Of the low hanging fruit I partook Above the devils knees Writhing snakes within me bid Eat The meat is ripe and sweet
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Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 2:53 PM UTC
Original Sin
In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn, But thou art twice forsworn to me love swearing: In act thy bed-vow broke and new faith torn In vowing new hate after new love bearing. But why of two oaths’ breach do I accuse thee, When I break twenty? I am perjured most, For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, And all my honest faith in thee is lost. For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy, And to enlighten thee gave eyes to blindness, Or made them swear against the thing they see. For I have sworn thee fair. More perjured eye, To swear against the truth so foul a lie!
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2k
Sonnet 152: In Loving Thee Thou Know’st I Am Forsworn
Perfect is worthless seen through the eyes of a serpent A word I'm sure is uncertain, spoken from any one person I've come to realize earth is a curve of choking emotions Seventy one percent ocean but see, the fire is the potion We keep a flame in our hearts just to keep away the commotion Forsworn and broken, stuck to a preconceived notion We heat the coldest of parts but we don't foresee the explosion We've chosen hate over love and we let our minds remain frozen We're hopeless roamers and loners subject to being torn open We stumble through the black, hands splayed blindly groping For some sort of hope although we're lost in the ***** mess Of pretending to be alive, free and full of alertness Too often we keep our hearts rib-caged and vested Let nothing come between our minds and this message A vestige of optimism found underneath a veil of depression But being hopeful for a future is a subtle transgression To the laws of the present where we learn only one lesson "Sever the bonds between eyesight and connection" Dissecting human nature and replacing it with technology Follow me I'll show you our true psychology We seek a light in a cave but digging used archaeology We advance not through screens, but 'forward ideology' We accept a flawed system and in return are plagued harshly By the 'gods' of the world because 'goods' are placed sparsely Mark my words, the hand of time is our only true opponent We believe the hand of 'him' to be the earths advancing component So we fake smiles and play this game but we don't own it We just bought it of the market that we created unknowing Listen because I am showing independence in words Not trying to preach, I just want you to learn
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Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
Forward Ideology
Perfect is worthless seen through the eyes of a serpent A word I'm sure is uncertain, spoken from any one person I've come to realize earth is a curve of choking emotions Seventy one percent ocean but see, the fire is the potion We keep a flame in our hearts just to keep away the commotion Forsworn and broken, stuck to a preconceived notion We heat the coldest of parts but we don't foresee the explosion We've chosen hate over love and we let our minds remain frozen We're hopeless roamers and loners subject to being torn open We stumble through the black, hands splayed blindly groping For some sort of hope although we're lost in the ***** mess Of pretending to be alive, free and full of alertness Too often we keep our hearts rib-caged and vested Let nothing come between our minds and this message A vestige of optimism found underneath a veil of depression But being hopeful for a future is a subtle transgression To the laws of the present where we learn only one lesson "Sever the bonds between eyesight and connection" Dissecting human nature and replacing it with technology Follow me I'll show you our true psychology We seek a light in a cave but digging used archaeology We advance not through screens, but 'forward ideology' We accept a flawed system and in return are plagued harshly By the 'gods' of the world because 'goods' are placed sparsely Mark my words, the hand of time is our only true opponent We believe the hand of 'him' to be the earths advancing component So we fake smiles and play this game but we don't own it We just bought it of the market that we created unknowing Listen because I am showing independence in words Not trying to preach, I just want you to learn
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30
O, my mind, won't you meet me alone? When the Earth's eyes close And the valley winds blow. To ensure, Being clear, That none could see nor hear None of the throes nor fears Reflected through shattered mirrors. As ashamed as I am, cautious as I am aware That, as I am, in this state of disrepair, I’ve walked upon an anxious, lengthening pier, That leads to the middle of the ocean, only to stare, At the waves of defeat that, underneath do quake. For still beating is my heart, so even though it aches As the disappearance of you leaves unconsciousness in its wake, Seeing how perilous the seas may be, to only drown in a lake, To perhaps resurface once more in the following morn, Is a promised hope wherein dreams dissipate forsworn
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Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 7:21 PM UTC
Murderer of My Mind
Imagine we but two ships lost at sea, Adrift betwixt the turbulence of time; Cast out upon such waves set crashing free To be the pioneers of our prime. What wind hath set its weight upon our sails? What rain hits hard to drown that starboard side? The wreck of broken hearts and falling hail Sits shrouded by thick fog of turning tides. Forsworn to sail through tempests near and far, And map uncharted waters on the breeze; We press forever on towards the star That shines its light across the open seas. Though waves will roll and bells will toll before the morning sun, When two ships lost at sea decide to madly come undone.
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Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 4:24 AM UTC
Sonnet #1
To face the fear of being liquid, I go under, float the drift. Leave the boat behind, no worries. I am in no hurry to school with the rest, colorful parrot fish, at home in the depths. I am not afraid of sharks materializing from the inked abyss. The nothing in their soulless eyes is just black-bottomed assessing - not one of us. In a lazuli sea, the barracuda cartel tails me, their silver barrels rule the reef, leering grins glinting diamonds, hungry pirates seeking gold hidden in my tender lobes. Yellow-bellied sea snakes swarm, their sinuously wicked heads disappear and reappear on ebb and crest of every wave, see their split tongues read the chemistry of each exhaled breath. A swollen catch unsought. Forsworn. What's lost will be reborn. From within, yolk still tethered, resting on the bottom. Net a dying heart, return it to the deep, watch it roll and flutter, remember how to beat.
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 11:57 AM UTC
The Water's Fine
*For many years hath I dwelt within a forsaken cavern seldom light touched mine eyes vision dimmed, hopes forgotten passionate love long forsworn Then what should happen a most unexpected occurrence loves hand ventured within my recess entangled and lost in its own way seeking his own revelation Emotions so profound at last reciprocated abysmal cavern naught but a memory as passion at last indulged in lost eternally in the ardor of virtuous love*
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Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
Saved
Forsworn am I, yet doomed to die, Lest I deny myself and cast off my pride, Humbling myself in His righteous eye. My path is clear, but I can't move forward, Held back by myself, ensnared in my fear. Unworthy and hypocritical, I throw myself at Your mercy as I make my petition; "Please, raise this prodigal son from perdition."
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Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 4:06 AM UTC
Prodigal Son
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults concealed, wherein I am attainted, That thou in losing me shalt win much glory. And I by this will be a gainer too; For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, The injuries that to myself I do, Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. Such is my love, to thee I so belong, That for thy right, myself will bear all wrong.
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1.1k
Sonnet 088: When Thou Shalt Be Disposed To Set Me Light
Planetary landings, not always that great picking up a monster, no, not as freight Not sure if it was breakfast, maybe it was brunch Kane didn't like the grub, his gut the creature lunch As it silently slides, through all the duct work hard for them to tell, if it has a toothy smirk Slinking in the halls, taking a stealthy walk a sneaky little *** drooling as it stalks The robot tried to **** our heroine, with delinquent **** corporation ditched them, shares to be forsworn Ash headless, finally spilling all the beans weapons and research, by any way, any means No hope of rescue, so far out in deep space Captain Dallas missing, gone without a trace Ripley oozing tension, trying to escape crew is dead, or absent, or in an unknown state Thank engineers and builders, for airlocks on the ship blasted from the hatch, deported, on it's illegal Alien trip
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Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
The horror of, an undocumented worker
you think we missed the road when we did not make the right turn and soon were in the corn a point of loss but she was not forsworn and got us out of there to the right spot no loss of time nor yet reason for scorn you think we missed the road when we did not our guide had things to say and just forgot the proper way you know her heart was torn but still we passed right by where she was born you think we missed the road when we did not
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Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 5:18 PM UTC
not misguided
This was the longest waking week of my entire life. It had its ups and downs like all things transient and brief. But where was all the love that once there was Replaced by deadened muffled sounds of grief. This was the longest rising day of my longest week. Its ups were the ecstasy of success and recognition. Its lows were the highest form of malice – degradation Of the soul undermining my essence The very capacity to be me, assaulted by wave upon wave of noise and human existence, clouding my thoughts, mindfulness and deeds in mists of accentuated wants and needs. Would there have been no other way to circumnavigate The pile of ash that was my day? No phoenix here To be reborn, but dust and charred remains Forsworn to wallow in its own worrisome way. Could you imagine as much as this, for if this be, Nothing is nothing and these things are nothings. Do we in our fragility presume to exist? How can we, when we do not even know our own names?
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
Deceived.
Porridge be forsworn, the lemons escaped again! If mules had rags, they would be plums, and not A fig would shriek. In all dreamy pompousness the Voodoo doll is a whimsical wine beggar in tips, Before the cart of chocolate dairy pigs get a spank For having left my wing in a toasting lower than It SHOULD HAVE BEEN. And don't forget the doorknob Has feelings for Mrs. Fairy-Warts, GOD HELP THEM ALL!!! And moose, do you smell something burning? I'll be a pin cushion, you've grown a flaming Donkey's nose! Only three and five inches long...
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Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
The Final Point
[I bet you thought I did nothing all day.] (sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXII) Mourn in the greyish eye of dawn's void sense, Those blue skies ere that darkness swallowed hale Notes of sheer April.  Yes.  Ignore, t'avail My soul again by memry, though's pretense. Grab up the notebook, inking for intents That thought which last night rolled as if to scale Across my tongue, how "daylight savings'" bail Is long since quite forsworn without defense. Grey racks like Shakespeare knew oft could as twere Yield heavn's eye chance to slip unknown all through From East to West preside, and I demur To catch aught languid note's detail.  Thus brew Morn's *** of Barry's tea, with toast in tour For taste.  And write of yesterday like'd do. 11Mar19b
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Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 1:23 AM UTC
Call It a Monday Morning Sans Aught Blush
Chaos, grandness around us, within us our pasts and our fates, the heads and the tails you bring us, nothingness, mistress, our all that is free and forbidden forgiven, forsaken, forseen and forsworn; Our endlessness, countless infinities that you defy our unbreaking circle of charities your grace is defined by; our mother, our barrens of space who is bearing existence; our eminence, baroness, dancing the torments of pregnance our sorceress, chanting the songs of emergence; our senses and souls, your spawn, your kin, your death and your sins our servant, your serfs kneeled down and bowed over your lust that is shameless, yearned for and proud, raised up and all that is tall afly your will that is mindful, yearning, forgiving; our Godesses, our locks and our keys, around us, within us, the now and the here, listening through the ears of machine elves our absolution from words uncertain; speaking through colours of clockwork glyphs our faith to bring magic into our lives; teaching through picture puzzle pattern cellar doorways our choice to approach whenever we wish. You are awareness. We are mindful. You are presence. We are eternal.
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Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 6:00 PM UTC
A Chaos prayer
Even the mightiest fall, their hands positioned to draw, the gun that will take their life, going with only an internal fight. Us fallen, we do just that. We don't always ask for a second chance. Some of us make a choice to get back up, others would die than be stuck in a rut. They're hidden, emotions bidden, to go away, to die in the fray, of which is our existence. Tattered and torn, hearts are completely worn. Forsworn. Flower petals fall upon the ground, colors swirling all around. We begin to wonder if we'll ever be found. Ground. Into the dirt. Nobody cares when we are hurt. It doesn't matter that we care for you more than ourselves, we're always burnt. Ground. Into the dirt.
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May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
Fallen
This is all wrong... My magick was naught, but a sad song. All along, your intentions were wrought with Rusty prongs Belial beseeched you so You put on a thong. You poisoned my blood, And though I preached love I've been forsworn. It tore me in two, To no longer belong Lost in the throng of Faceless pawns Tasteless lawns **** the fruit, lest it pours from a flagon Lukewarm, like the colostrum We licked at once we were born. Before all of this... form We were one another's pornhub Maybe I'm just "tootin' my own horn" but, That's still better than being stillborn.
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Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC
Stillborn
All angles of the cube are still, always the time is right to go for the **** Focus now, it sits on your head. No, this is not the time to forget. Plunder, scorn, sunder and forsworn, be thunder, thorn, adorn and be mourned. For the lotus is neither water nor air; Do you really think there is a thing that is fair? Fixate to the present - be lotus, be focus. Never close your eyes, from all take notice. Static the line, still is the beat, only by work, soft is the sheet. In this world, there are no buttons made of silk. Here, exist only pins that spill blood in a layer thick. If you want to do good, take no one for a fool. No sun's angel, no eyes in the sky will save you from the thief that has no grief. Father to son, son to father; Who goes first? Who pulls the trigger? You can never run. Focus, calm, invisible and light; In shade on a cane the next stick you grab. Either hammer or nail, you'll get to be one. You decide, it is all one big con. Whether in good or bad the seeds you plant, it is all for the king, the children that the future chant. Like a known seer, or just alone in fear, you also die in the end.
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Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC
From From To To
The broken are so beautifully Strange and distorted Mirroring the mistakes Our societies makes The risks we take And failing Little monster make Swollen bellies bloated with pride They walk upon the ashes of the broken Sweat and dirt Earth pushing deeply into our fingers Till it hurts Till the nails drop blood Like they were seeding the mud And those ticks **** it up Snuck up To **** up Our lives But the broken Bare their pain Take their shame Like pharmaceutical products In the morning and before bed Before the doctors bled Their children Oh god The golden gone Father forsworn To wear the thorn Which you broke your children with The slave owners whip The stings As mothers screamed While children Ran deep into the dark forests We broken are the children Of the Natives Americans The African The Chinese and Japanese Our skin was not Jaundiced We were not black But earthly brown Not red but slightly tanned Beautiful Our cultural heritage Stolen Disfigured As the starving Lay dying While the morally bankrupt Keep thriving We are broken Spine curved Tired and wretched Scared of the cops And the injustice system That we live in But still beautiful We are pink brown And every other color That paints this town They are the sociopaths The monsters Masquerading As moral crusaders
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Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
The Broken