"thane" poems
"The thane of fife had a wife,
And where is she now?"
...She's dead,
...She's dead,
...She's dead,
And now she's in heaven or hell,
Probably hell.
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 2:01 PM UTC
After countless battles,
We've finally gotten married.
Ours was not a lengthy engagement
If there was even one to begin with.
A long courtship, though.
Skirmish after bloodbath after slaughter
Fighting trolls and giants and the undead
We were comrades
Brothers in arms.
And then a quick confession
A purchased home
That was it.
Now we sleep in on weekends
Slowly wake to the cool darkness of the room
Make love with sleep still frosting our eyes
I serenade you in the cold evenings with my battered lute
As you tend to the crackling hearth
Before tending to my gashes and bruises
Earned from the day's clashes.
This must be what Valhalla feels like --
Coming home to you and a hearty stew
After a long day of fighting
Covered in blood
(Some of them mine)
Loaded down with loot.
Doing this for a lifetime seems preferable
To being High King for eternity.
Dragons may be razing the northern wastes
Savage tribes holding sway in the mountains
Rebels and imperials clashing in the plains
But in here
It's just you and me.
Nothing and no one can enter our sanctuary.
Like you said,
Brief as life can be here,
We have each other.
I may be the Thane of your hold
But you are the Thane of my heart.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
As with power of light and darkness i ride,through cosmos i glide Divine poetry Devilry MostHeavenly
Illusion of time shatters,starfire scatters,blood of heaven splatters
Left hand of God is my name Eating his wings is my game,to make me his bane
thane of heaven,tool no bell for me,for fell your heaven in the cosmic 7
666 or 999 to from chaos to eternity
Lament of innocence sang for a devil profound in god
Requiem thy starlight
gaze upon the spectral hellsight
witness destruction
and creation from 1 cause and effect
Omniscience Omnimastery
Enchanted Badassery
Starlight! in this night most long,for light is wrong
Starlight!be evils fright and my right on good and darkness
Starlight!Poetical poem for your ascension moment in this unholly Light and Darkness Interveniton
Secret of the universe,fire shall bleed,darkness will bleed light and let light bleed darkness
Cut god open so light and darkness bleed,on his blood i feed.
Grant power to the game
of the foolish winer
for light and darkness
power of illusion are
beyond the stars
beyond every universe,astral plane,dimension,and existence
lies the future and destiny
of my soul
for it is in this moment
as i speak
my awakening will come
2013-2021/2023
2021 a castle is visible from all sides of the earth in the sky,no one knows whome stands before it.
(in this universe doomsday comes in another castle)
-AlucarD
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 3:31 PM UTC
Yesterday and today and again tomorrow
Regrets build up from day to day
To the last moment of my waning life
And all my yesterdays have guided me
Towards my longed for death, so **** you, brief candle.
Life's just a passing sideshow, poor interval
To fill in the time between TV shows and football -
So pass another beer - life's just a ragged tail
Wagged by an idiot, it's **** and *** and ***** -
And then there's **** all left.
Know you whichever tempestuous idiot declar'd
O wonder how many goodly creatures are there here
And how beautious whining mankind be?
O brave new ******* pointless world
That has such people in't or some such futility
Needeth yet her brains examining forsooth
And has ne'er seen Wolverhampton ill-lit by moonlight.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
The day following Cawdor's capture
Was strange and grew stranger:
Relief from battle's end,
The weary ride's return.
Three witches in a fen
Pronounced Macbeth's sweet future
Named him, "King," hereafter.
Their prophecy fazed him,
I think.
Aware their source could only be the Devil,
I queried them,
"Prophesy the future to my line."
Cackled utterances gave nothing to me,
Except the fathering of kings,
A promise I can only to leave to God.
Shrieking and smoking,
The hags evaporated
Leaving us shaking,
Alone in murky thought.
I obeyed, as much as I am able,
Macbeth's command
To leave the hellish messengers'
Words hanging in that fen.
Tonight Glamis has become Cawdor;
The day has trickled down to night;
I am out upon the battlements,
Too troubled now to sleep
While Macbeth snores, content.
He leaves to see his Lady in the morning.
King Duncan follows after
To celebrate the victory of Scotland,
To honor the bravest of his heroes,
The two-named Thane.
Here above the courtyard,
I pace beneath the tent of night,
As witches' words I mutter,
"And King hereafter."
Something is not right.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
Thanatos broke the paradise and gave it yellow skin
but when slit, his peel hummed like an opera
just beautiful enough to make me fall in love with him:
moon set and guts gouged from death songs sung.
How his eyes are melancholy orbs, storm clouds
and his chest has not hair but scales that shed to stories,
the final sunset he found as a father in doubt
before noticing me in a scope and his son in glory.
Now he walks less ugly through esplanade and field,
singing through battles that eat him to wounds.
When he reaches me, on one knee he has kneeled:
a proposal has no purpose for us, so he passes his tune.
Is death a mission to bristle our love?
Thanatos, my one and only, is an angel above.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
The weird sisters said their peace, at last.
And I could feel it--their poison that mixed with the air.
Like impure thought, blind to mortal eye, and true to its task.
"All hail, Macbeth, Thane of Cawdor," they plot their snare.
And me, the noble and fair man I've always been, I cursed this seance.
No usurped crown can take lightly to the mind of its host.
The same crown offered to none other than my Fleance.
For his sake, let God and men know, I will do the most.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 11:52 PM UTC
From the beginning was the Wyrrd,
and the Wyrrd was in the hands of the Norns.
These three weird sisters held men's fates .
They handled , measured and cut
the strands of fate
Some think them witches
or else the classical Fates.
These are the Norns.
They measure out our days.
Do not look
Do not dare to gaze upon
The faces of Fate
The Weird sisters
Flee, Macbeth, thane of Cawdor!
Fly Thane of Glamis
Apr 27, 2019
Apr 27, 2019 at 1:08 PM UTC
banquo - what! can the devil speak true?
macbeth - the thane of cawdor lives: who do
you dress me (as)
in borrowed robes?
angus - who was the thane, lives yet (still lives);
but under heavy judg(e)ment bears
that life, which he deserves to lose. whether he was
combined with those of norway,
or did line (assemble)
the rebel with hidden help and vantage,
or that with both
he laboured in his country's wrack,
i know not;
but treason capital, confessed and proved,
have overthrown him.
macbeth - glamis, and thane of cawdor:
the greatest is behind - thanks for your
pains. -
do you not hope your children shall be kings,
when those that gave the thane of cawdor to me
promised no less to them?
banquo - ............................................
................................................
.........................................................................
..............................
..........................................................
the instruments of darkness tell us truths.
and why wouldn't they, to begin with -
what lurks in the shadow,
isn't more than a second tier
of night?
where by night, the moon illuminates,
there also, the vacuum of a shadow,
suckling as if a reflection of a sun post-mortem,
as that, which is known to be a black hole?
but above all:
and letters are, the sole, greatest proof,
that they are what they are,
and that they are: the grandest tool of darkness.
only these these instruments may we peer
into a depth, and grandiosity of a matter
beyond the mere blutness of the mind -
deeper still, into the soul -
and even deeper still, into the heart of man;
to then say:
and by a heart you imply:
surviving on sheer luck of consequence?
i might only then ask: or is that, incompetence?
luck, the toss of dice, a thrill of the game,
the only suggestion, being
the quest of the so-called daredevil -
and then exclaim
the opposite to daring, if not cheating death?
and how many of such impromptus,
do you think, are given?
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 12:38 PM UTC
Thane of the Glamis Arena
Doyen of constitutionalism
Chikara che Zanu
The villager who dared to challenge,
Hope-monger, democrat,
Courageous fighter,
Patriot to the core,
Always leading from the front.
With intolerance on the rise you stood up
When incompetence grew you spoke up
When inflation turned to hyper you jumped in,
and tamed it.
When fear became the air,
you eyeballed it.
Yours is the courage of legions,
they will sing of your name for generations,
To your remembrance, they will build monuments.
I send a humble request to the heavens,
a whisper on the wings of the winds,
may the gods grant you more,
More health! More years! and More strength.
Get well soon Captain Courageous.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
There is nothing that shines brighter than you
with the force of 100 exploding stars ✨
your smile:
• soft
• infectious
• untameable
sends one to the deepest layers of the abyss with
Joy
oy
y
.
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC
A forlorn mule ambled a’ scowl,
Stumbling out from the hollow hovel,
But "Ahoy!" hailed a fey owl,
"Prithee, canst thou maketh the bestowal,
Of thine lovely bone-filled bowl."
Yet, all mule harked were perfide words foul,
So, the mule quoths with crimson howl -
"Hark me, O pirate of pain!
Me dubbed 'Common Mane',
Lo! tane my bowl-filled bane.
Wherefore art thou here, arcane?
Where goest thou, O wing’ d thane?
Whither rests thine dance so vain?
Dare ye cast the die of gain?
Doth not spake those perfide words again!"
The owl so spake in glace of Yule sire-
"Hight me - Lord Carrion the Dire,
A’ am piper o' myriad's pyre.
And A’ hie to mine Crooked Spire.
As it waxes evermore higher,
Only whilst rats leapeth in Surtr's fire
Betwixt tempest and thunder with sans a moment’s rire,
Of ruby tiefed, and bones crumbling in endless mire."
"Why art rats leapeth to Surtr’s spume,"
Whilst thy feathers tuck’ d ‘way from fiery doom?
Stop the endless Nyx brume”
The mule quivered, voice a-boom,
The owl spun words in return from estival loom-
“A’ piped them of phantom Phe’ nix’s plume,
So not wane mine ivory room,
Or stop their ambrosial crimson flume.”
The Mule’s sigh, hath even hell's hosts huddle around-
"Ye, sir! I wouldst trample aground!
And put thou in gaol underground"
"Ah!", came owl's soft rebound,
"Thou too shalt kiss skies abound,
Anon drink rills of scarlet profound,
For Bloom’s soft buss hath ne' er Fall’s fated song bound.
On pragmatism, only idealism's shroud surrounds "
Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 6:09 AM UTC
So what became of the moon this night,
One moment shining,
Once glowing so brightly,
the minutes turned to hours.
All ebony night,
Whence, Duncan, thane of highland descent,
swept the cover of the haze,
embraced the moon with wild eyes,
blackened further July skies.
Beneath the remnants of the missing moon,
the wild crazy women,
they swirled,
mixing potions,
of dancing and loving,
while brewing emotions,
and magic with such torrid chants,
a whirling tornado,
a dervish indeed,
a whirlwind so sore,
the end of the night,
with dawn breaking silently,
their vehement words, lost,
blown away, as they crumbled to dust,
the dust blew in their eyes,
my God how they cried,
all that emotion destroyed.
(C) Livvi
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 6:34 PM UTC