"shal" poems
We wander, we wander,
By moonlight, I ponder,
Whilst sailing my ship towards that shimmering star!
How we who are pirates, so willingly wander, both hither and yonder, no matter how far…
Methinks to myself, “Not a bad life to lead, no longer a slave to the land like before…
The wind at my back, so utterly freed, to seek out adventures, on any fair shore!”
“Why do it?” Methinks, as I stand on the prou, the breeze on my face, lightly tossing my locks,
For any a man would be called crazy now, for braving the sharks, and starvation, and pox!
Is it the gold, that calls me to sea? Where hurricanes howl, and sturdy sails rend!
Or is it the freedom that calls out to me, and gold is not more than a means to an end?
For me, ti’s the freedom, to do what I love, to sail by the light of the stars up above, And stand on my deck, under moonlight, to ponder, how we are those pirates who willingly wander…
My ship, a fine lady, a handsome thing too, a good set of guns with a competent crew, her holds full of treasures, and finest apperal, and row upon row of *** by the barrel!
So drink in the morning, and drink in the evening, and I would be lying if I didn’t say, We guzzle the *** from dusk until dawn, and me-thinks I’ll be sipping it all through the day!
Then we dance on the deck, for the music is playin, the chilly night breeze has our ship gently swayin,
And off once again, for we willingly wander, “But why?” Says I, as by moonlight I ponder…
Wouldn’t we like to at some place belong? Would dropping our anchor for ever be wrong?
Perhaps there’s a place with a temperate climate, and someone to care for a salty old pirate?
But till that day comes, I shal willingly wander, and whilst I’m the captain, by moonlight I’ll ponder…
Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
In praise of Eliza, Queen of the Shepherds
See where she sits upon the grassie greene,
(O seemely sight!)
Yclad in Scarlot, like a mayden Queene,
And ermines white:
Upon her head a Cremosin coronet
With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set:
Bay leaves betweene,
And primroses greene,
Embellish the sweete Violet.
Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face
Like Phoebe fayre?
Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace,
Can you well compare?
The Redde rose medled with the White yfere,
In either cheeke depeincten lively chere:
Her modest eye,
Her Majestie,
Where have you seene the like but there?
I see Calliope speede her to the place,
Where my Goddesse shines;
And after her the other Muses trace
With their Violines.
Bene they not Bay braunches which they do beare,
All for Elisa in her hand to weare?
So sweetely they play,
And sing all the way,
That it a heaven is to heare.
Lo, how finely the Graces can it foote
To the Instrument:
They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,
In their meriment.
Wants not a fourth Grace to make the daunce even?
Let that rowme to my Lady be yeven.
She shal be a Grace,
To fyll the fourth place,
And reigne with the rest in heaven.
Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine,
With Gelliflowres;
Bring Coronations, and Sops-in-wine
Worne of Paramoures:
Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies,
And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and lovèd Lillies:
The pretie Pawnce,
And the Chevisaunce,
Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice.
Now ryse up, Elisa, deckèd as thou art
In royall aray;
And now ye daintie Damsells may depart
Eche one her way.
I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe:
Let dame Elisa thanke you for her song:
And if you come hether
When Damsines I gether,
I will part them all you among.
4.4k
I singe with a hertly lud whan ycham herty,
And I arme whan singinge is ne ynewe.
Carole whan my corage blissieth,
And I shal deye whan his blase deyeth.
Druerie shal be his a-brune billets.
A stable blase that shal sustene my spyrakles.
A schrewe destroyere that kesseth so dimliche.
A þeauful kempe with an as-spire swerde.
Gostes of i-þank als ouer my vingeres.
Al-only dulce conceiptes fletene in my gostes.
Sumdel real cannot be als amaddinge.
Sumdel real cannot be te-tealte!
Is the mannish þonc als mase and puissant
Sweuenen of suic a selkout conand?
Dest Moder Folde cune of hire child?
Hire misty doter who berne and bilde?
The hoom is not where the herte is.
The herte is the hoom bote motif
The herte, the hoom, the ende, and the sepulture.
A luft who is the mest derure in the Folde.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
Just do you
because you cant do me
be the difference in the soul of the world
but be humble by heart
I am who I am
and cant be another
you are who you are
dont try to change to be someone else
or like them
They are the sinners of the world
they pressure you to do wrong
we the people of the united states
have been tempted to **** steal and destroy
but let us not dwell on their mistakes
their temptaitions
let us win and overcome their devilish deeds
we shall come together
we shal be courageous and strong
we shall be victorious
but we can only conquer
if.
you just do you
Oct 26, 2009
Oct 26, 2009 at 4:12 PM UTC
On this path i sit,
looking back on my life,
realizing,
that everything i did,
and everything that's been done to me,
all had its purpose,
so i shal not dewll,
on my past,
but live in myu present,
and look forward,
to my future.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 4:38 PM UTC
Walking through the busy streets of life
Living each and every day
Feeling caught under the knife
Acting, looking, feeling a certain way
You did your best you say?
Your tried as hard as you could
But you failed at the end of the day
As everybody knew you would
Lay your head to rest poor soul
Close your eyes tonight
Tommorrow you'll achieve your goal
Tommorrow you'll win the fight
Another day has come, you strive to do
All the things they are asking of you
Pushing, pushing just to get by
put your head down, acting so shy
This day is almost over
You will soon be in your bed
Your battle for the day will be won
And you shal be left alone in your head
How many days can you carry on
How many fake smiles can you produce
Before your souls completley gone
Your heart cannot take the abuse
Stand outside yourself
Look back at the world you've created
Please, put your pride on the shelf
You've become everything you hated
All hope is not lost poor soul
Tommorrow dawns a new day
Climb out of this hole
And live your life your own way
Wake up tommorrow poor soul,
Wake up and take control.
Jul 8, 2011
Jul 8, 2011 at 10:24 AM UTC
dawn to dask birds brack and bruss you see a tree you see a bloom. around a tree a butterfly and bee. a blue bird you shal see.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
ahy dih-zahyn tuh dih-seev yee
bahy klev-er mahsk awr klohk.
dohnt kahrp, need-l yohr bel-free,
ahy chohz tuh doo it az mahy johk.
sey yee fig-yer suhch fuhn-ee awl-soh,
yee shal uh b-teyn ey smahyl tuh goh.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 3:23 PM UTC
hea rts
lo ve pa in
and
yearn to learn
thro ugh
gri ef.
ple ase
for get
m y
shal low
lo ve
de ar
for I
cannot
.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC