"thrall" poems
(For Eric Killmonger)
A little boy stared in the clouds
Forgotten tales screaming loud
His word small and nothing wrong
It all shattered after too long
Stories of cities that touched the sky
Clans of people untouched by time
Hope soon filled his boyish dreams
But not everything was as it seemed
One night he came home and saw
His father dead, struck down by claw
Weeping over his fathers head
He begged him to stay, not leave him instead
Shattered dreams and shattered hopes
He held the myth achingly close
Alone, no one there to guide
He locked his humanity deep inside
Battling for a way to free them all
Seeking power and in deaths thrall
The world had taken everything away
And all in one single day
So he would take everything away from it
His soul a star no longer lit
Now he lay there quietly dying
His enemy close, no longer fighting
The world it seemed would take him too
His glittering eyes full of rue
There was nothing left for him here
Breathing ragged and full of fear
Finally he took his very last breath
And slipped away as his life left
And as the sun left the sky
The night descended with a sigh
The little boy was dead and gone
His life a sad and weary song.
-Roguesong-
-Esther L. Krenzin-
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC
your softly breathing sleep
allows me to muse on times of love
of how you care to devise for me
such pleasures that I know not of
with softly tested link of chain
that holds me to your loving bed
to know that you are there to
shield me with your tender bonds
before slumber claims my eyes
I want to feel your hand in mine
That I may know that you
Lie close by for all our night.
I need to feel the tight confine
Of my captive self that lies within
full knowing that I am
your slave at every sunrise wake
to do your bidding here by morn
and seek your use of me in ways
that have not yet seen light of day
so you shall know me as your own
but dare I risk your wrath by want
of something in this darkest hour,
and think of all you did to me
that brought me to my frenzy here?
my fingers stray and find such wet
as you in passion full create
with desire for you now so intense
that I cannot but divide myself
and guide with care your sleeping hand
where I can ride it in my thrall
and pillow-stifle screams of need
at thoughts of being used again
your touch though sleeping forces me
into that driving ecstasy
that has become my life with you
with no other than this torment wild
that makes me use myself like this
shameless as your wanton *****
needing all you do to me
in ways that you need me to be
....Francesca Anderssen 2016
From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses (Amazon)
Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 6:12 PM UTC
The fiscal snare is drawing tight
Putin’s day... now courting night,
Rouble tilts vertiginously
To Satan’s **** religiously.
Fiscal snare is drawing blood
A trickle then... is now a flood,
Russia’s central bank adjusts
But ineffectually, combusts.
Hard line prospects elbow dance
Aligning for assasins lance.
Perhaps….
Better now, the Devil known
Than facing down an Unknown throne…..
Facing down an Iron call
With finger poised in nuclear thrall.
What choice now for ego’s Prince
Retreat from Eastern Ukraine’s wince?
Retreat Crimea’s balmy shores
To face the nationalistic howl of hordes?
Brinkmanship…the other way
A gamble that the West might sway?
Either way the game is up
Now bitter wine brims Russia’s cup.
M.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
Gemini in seasonable evening,
serenely swirling in Septemberous
ferris wheels
reeling in the vast domain
of lonesome leviathans
and witch-fires;
nowhere bound in the boundless fecundity
[ the feral joys of creation... ]
twins
meander in gravity's
well of souls,
swollen with unknowns and proteins;
golden rods in pointless foam
brewing the elixir vitae
in the Dippers cup. the Milky Way,
a wayward gush
from an ancient Mother Goddess,
plump and shameless, pumping teats
to nurse worlds
infused with divine rays of gamma and x...
why set dark apart
from firmament burning
spheres?
dragons
must clutch eggs in the void
as much
as fork tongue white dwarfs.
of course, the Source
unfolds
as Love does. it's purpose,
in thrall of fearless veracity,
spinning yarns for glad garments
to clothe the naked dread
of such fearful symmetries
as roam the wild delights
of the infinite
meringue.
the Pi
on the window sill,
tempting the circular frame of reference
to square with the sublime Will.
another Fibonacci in your
bedpost,
to better hobnob with
broomsticks.
everything annihilates hatred.
from within,
we sojourn to sovereign super-continents
of opulent peace.
profound realities surge serpentine
with Meaning.
we are outdone on the inside by small minds
and farcical
hearts.
so at night
look up.
Love's Tongue Is
Love's
Word.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 1:31 PM UTC
I see you shining there a translucent water drop
Suspended in animation
From the garden where I lay
I watch your silver glow, in total fascination
Moving to and fro
As within my heart, you play
I hear your tinkling laughter, rise above the trees
Softly lilting in my mind
Find myself within a soulful breeze
Your joyous laughter brings
As your joy and mine
Are combined
A quiet calm is set in motion, as you begin to fall
Enchantment ending in a silver splash
Yet, such joy you have brought into this thrall
Into the garden where I lay
Even though you fell
In a flash
Now I see you shining there upon my yearning soil
Suspended in animation
In the garden where I toil
I watch your silver glow, in total fascination
Moving to and fro
Quenching thirst, in adoration
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 6:37 PM UTC
His is my Alpha, my Lover and Friend
i pray to the Goddess O/our time never ends
i bow in service
for love and for U/us
i bow in service and obey
joyfully Yours 'til the end of days
to You i submit my life and my all
to You i submit i am ever Your thrall
Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 12:22 AM UTC
Sent to a friend who had complained that I was glad enough to see
him when he came, but didn't seem to miss him if he stayed away.
And cannot pleasures, while they last,
Be actual unless, when past,
They leave us shuddering and aghast,
With anguish smarting?
And cannot friends be firm and fast,
And yet bear parting?
And must I then, at Friendship's call,
Calmly resign the little all
(Trifling, I grant, it is and small)
I have of gladness,
And lend my being to the thrall
Of gloom and sadness?
And think you that I should be dumb,
And full DOLORUM OMNIUM,
Excepting when YOU choose to come
And share my dinner?
At other times be sour and glum
And daily thinner?
Must he then only live to weep,
Who'd prove his friendship true and deep
By day a lonely shadow creep,
At night-time languish,
Oft raising in his broken sleep
The moan of anguish?
The lover, if for certain days
His fair one be denied his gaze,
Sinks not in grief and wild amaze,
But, wiser wooer,
He spends the time in writing lays,
And posts them to her.
And if the verse flow free and fast,
Till even the poet is aghast,
A touching Valentine at last
The post shall carry,
When thirteen days are gone and past
Of February.
Farewell, dear friend, and when we meet,
In desert waste or crowded street,
Perhaps before this week shall fleet,
Perhaps to-morrow.
I trust to find YOUR heart the seat
Of wasting sorrow.
4k
My fantasies turned blonde in ‘seventy-six.
Bjorn, Benny, flickas, sailed from East to West.
Santa Lucia never shone so blessed
as she did in my private Euro-mix.
Perfect pop longs for that feminine fix.
Cassette wheels whirred – branding, then impressing
grooves upon the brain; my thrall confessing
love for Nordic light (in Disco metrics).
The names still strike flames, kindling bright renown:
Frida, Agnetha – your longships linger
Your Viking faces sacked my harbor town.
portaging hope to this shipwrecked singer,
enwreathing smiles to reach our further shore.
I Do… (times five – and will forevermore).
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 5:53 PM UTC
Love has earth to which she clings
With hills and circling arms about—
Wall within wall to shut fear out.
But Thought has need of no such things,
For Thought has a pair of dauntless wings.
On snow and sand and turn, I see
Where Love has left a printed trace
With straining in the world’s embrace.
And such is Love and glad to be
But Thought has shaken his ankles free.
Thought cleaves the interstellar gloom
And sits in Sirius’ disc all night,
Till day makes him retrace his flight
With smell of burning on every plume,
Back past the sun to an earthly room.
His gains in heaven are what they are.
Yet some say Love by being thrall
And simply staying possesses all
In several beauty that Thought fares far
To find fused in another star.
3.5k
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering;
The sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery's song.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew;
And sure in language strange she said,
I love thee true.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gaz'd and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes--
So kiss'd to sleep.
And there we slumber'd on the moss,
And there I dream'd, ah woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cry'd--"La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!"
I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
3.1k
.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Walk with me n be my Friend:
fending oFF thee awful Qualm,
calming all the thoughts of Death.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Talk to me if no one Else.
"tell me what to do aGain?...
...death is gonna Haunchew."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall,
Waltzing in my ball of Hair;
share the Yarn of all you Bear,
spare the Rod n chop the Sheers.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
"Welcome to the slums of Hell."
help me Speak in bleeding Tongue.
"vi la Vita......vi de Vel".
Mirror Mirror on the Wall:
wall of Talking thought so Clear;
hear the Fall of waldo's Water,
thrall the Call of ocean Odlaw.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
call my Bluff n cuff my Arms,
bar my Cell n sell my Soul,
sow the Seed n reap its Rose.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
flaunt my Card n guard the Door.
Youre the one im steering Clear of...
..."ofCourse you are."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all i Know is no ones Lost,
mossy Oak is all i Know,
frozen Walls i call my Home.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Are ish ards of Glass;
lashing Out n always Laughing,
laughing as you watch me Ball.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Do is use my Tears.
here you Are with all the Cotton,
swabbing all my flaws n Fears.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
call me what you always Do:
stupid Queer n weird n Ugly."dont
******* Tell me what to Do."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
talk the way you always Have:
Chanting like a ******* Trucker,
Cussing like a ******* Sailor.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Hollow be my only Name.
satan stole my only Halo:
angel of a broken Cross.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Follow me n see my View.
you should see what i have Saw...
...all ive seen is You.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Are is all i Am.
have you not a ******* Conscience?...
..."obviously Not."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
walk a long this haunted Path.
after That if you can Laugh...
...so can I.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all youve Done is run n Hide.
'and Then...
...tyler was Gone.
was iaSleep?...
...had i Slept?'
- Jack's Medulla Oblongata
.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Farewell to the bushy clump close to the river
And the flags where the butter-bump hides in forever;
Farewell to the weedy nook, hemmed in by waters;
Farewell to the miller’s brook and his three bonny daughters;
Farewell to them all while in prison I lie—
In the prison a thrall sees naught but the sky.
Shut out are the green fields and birds in the bushes;
In the prison yard nothing builds, blackbirds or thrushes.
Farewell to the old mill and dash of waters,
To the miller and, dearer still, to his three bonny daughters.
In the nook, the larger burdock grows near the green willow;
In the flood, round the moor-cock dashes under the billow;
To the old mill farewell, to the lock, pens, and waters,
To the miller himsel’, and his three bonny daughters.
2.9k
"Surreal skeptic, cynical cryptic! Licentious lecheries fabulist façade fantasias. Wild eyed spectral serene. Dream of catenary concoctions, ethereal salacious conjugation, bridge the gap in metaphysical mystique. Erotica erectile errantry’s exserted protuberance is a kinesiology kleptomaniac with his embark embargo extraditions and his eventuation evocative execrations, a positive amalgamated anathema android of a terminus thrall. The shadow in the shade of the silhouette sojourn. The bailiff’s rakeness rails incarnate, unicorn railway nails and all. He will paint mirador bartizan panorama tableaus all over your proximity parameter perimeter peripherals. Force the enmity to acquiesce into impunity.” “Why this is not but an ogling ogre of an oligarchy omelet” she shrieked as he continued to tickle her. “Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugueness,” he said. “Positive orchestration renditions of transpositional interlude.” “Come here,” she said “let my clambering clamorous clangor write you a wield wile treatise expose’.” “The legions of Chinga da are battling the hoards of Gunga din saying ‘kinetic supremacy temporize tractive fluent’ , it’s sheer genocide. That plasty goop nosed Gumby ****** Gunga doesn’t stand a chance. Coax cacophony clout, catatonic phonics, grizzly grotto grouches all”, She squealed. “Now you’re gumption dreaming”, he chimed. “Chutzpah panache spontaneous generation complicity, gambit alluvium aloof succor.”
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
~~~
at times i
come in dead of night
a horrible great pall... at
times a vivid picture of the
killer in his thrall
but my favorite guise will
come when you perceive
the light. you will
not recognize me
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
or know that you
m u s t f i g h t !
no, you won't recognize me
for i have an art
but in my embrace you'll see
too late
the blackness of my heart
soulsurvivor
(c) january 20, 2015
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
Fertile earth’s seductive sorcery
Like ephemeral effulgence’s effluent effusion
Can lead you to believe that it’s not a travesty
Like life’s visceral intuitive eternal is not lost in subtle evasive confusion
Life’s virile translucence reflects this glow
Like an aorist ensemble of interludes transposition
Can lead you to believe that you’re in the know
Like omnipresence presages omniscience’s ubiquity is existential exigency’s peroration’s exposition
Corporeally preternatural metaphysical mystique
Like a mirador bartizan tableau panorama
Can inspire us to rise above its critique
Like spatiotemporal’s telemetry incarnate is creation’s vivid intrepid cyclorama
Spectral verve’s liaison’s consortium
Like eclectic synectic’s conclave’s fatidic
Can leave you lost in germane compendium
Like terminus thrall’s apriori inclination is transcendental accession’s endemic mnemonic
Monad’s transitional majestic splendor
Like residual harmonic vibration’s resilience
Can autonomously evoke and vicariously render
Like rubato’s actuator’s prospectus revealed is orchestration rendition’s intriguing brilliance
Eidetic preterit’s aesthetic amendments
Like protractive analyses’ dimensional delineation
Can lead to cogent salacious enticements
Like phantasmagoria’s fantasia fantastication’s magniloquence is sultry solace’s ostentatious ideation
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
I am cobwebs and smoke.
I am shards of a person who cannot decide
The difference between
Love
And god.
I am razorblades and thin air.
I am ink and shadows.
I am drowning in moonlight-
I am a spun web of starlight and wanting.
I am the wire frame of myself-
See through shape with nothing inside.
I am the wrong port in this storm,
Sending out beams of
Don't-ignore-me,
Blades of light that split the hazy fog of apathy.
You've sewn me with seeds of humanity
And I feel the life beneath my skin
Like it will sprout
Roots
Any day now.
I have a ribcage full of fireflies
That shine through the spaces when I breathe.
I have glimpsed dreamcatchers
In your eyes
And snagged my darkness in their dizzy thrall.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
I see you
I see through the mask you wear
I'm not fooled
So stop pretending you care
We both know
Your not who you say you are
The poison is slow
I can't believe you ever let it get this far
Stop lying to me cause i know the truth
They don't want you to speak
The demons that chase you
Let me show you the way
But, beware of the shadows that want you to stay
I can't pretend to know how you feel
So I won't but please know that I'm here
I don't want you to fall, but don't drag me down
Free yourself from this thrall
Or we'll both surely drown
Unveil your mask, break your chains
Open up your eyes
And you will soon see the enemy is bunkered
deep down inside
Tick tock tick tock
We are running out of time
The bombs about to blow
There is nowhere left to hide
Are you my friend or my foe?
I have stood by your side all these years
Exposed to your toxic radiation
Was it worth all the tears?
I'm done with this affiliation.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 2:12 PM UTC
Let me paint you a picture
Using nice long strokes
And beautifully vivid colors
And as with most works of art
My muse is the tale of two lovers
Plus one, two, three
Or was it four others
I seem to have lost count
With re-occurrences and all
And their masks seem to blur
As I get lost in our thrall
I tell you love is like a sun
Beautiful to look at
But will blind you
If you stare just a little too long
Unable to see a single mistake
When everything is going wrong
So I paint over the visages
Of him, him, her, and him
But the paint is just not thick enough
How could it be?
When the stain of betrayal
Isn’t quite painted, but carved
When the knives in the back
Sink through to the heart
And while it’s true
That the color of apology
Works well as a cover-up
Only time truly hides scars
And that’s what you wanted
Wasn’t it
Was time apart?
But it’s just not right
That you got to make that call
Without even a fight
You just want to call it a night
So go ahead and sketch the dark
And I will paint the stars
Because that’s what we are
Memories mirrored in paint
From the nights
Where you cried and I kissed you
To the days
Where our phone calls
Ended with I miss you
And I know
You’re not cursed with the memory
People think I’m blessed with
So let this serve to remind you
Of when times were best and
Then maybe you’ll feel some regret
Not the kind where watercolors
Stain your perfect portrait
I’m talking about life changing emotion
So that maybe there won’t be reprints
Sold at every corner auction
I want something hung in a museum
Something people would traverse
The world to see
And when they do
They don’t know what they feel
Because it’s hard to believe
That it’s even real
Seeing love with its contrast
And how you treated it
Like a contract
Made with an expiration date
Set even since our first date
When you gave me that brush
Inspiring me to paint
So that is what I did
And this is its masterpiece
And now
I guess I need a new brush
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
She walks at night likes passion's grace
Through nebulous fields of dream landscapes
Wild Morpheus her footsteps guides
She’s lust’s impassioned wile incarnate
Her will like swirling ocean currents
Endows the night with wanton purpose
Sent from heaven's pearly gates
To make men ponder mortal fortune
Tempting spirits will to sate
Demanding accolades of prowess
To satisfy her primal needs
Traverse her treacherous terrain
Her visage of immortal love
Like honey dripping from the comb
Inspires reckless heart's abandon
Dawn comes like coitus interruptus
Narcotic wisps of contention fade
A thrall with no earthly recourse
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 3:37 PM UTC
--I. M. Edward John Henley (1861-1898)
Where are the passions they essayed,
And where the tears they made to flow?
Where the wild humours they portrayed
For laughing worlds to see and know?
Othello's wrath and Juliet's woe?
Sir Peter's whims and Timon's gall?
And Millamant and Romeo?
Into the night go one and all.
Where are the braveries, fresh or frayed?
The plumes, the armours--friend and foe?
The cloth of gold, the rare brocade,
The mantles glittering to and fro?
The pomp, the pride, the royal show?
The cries of war and festival?
The youth, the grace, the charm, the glow?
Into the night go one and all.
The curtain falls, the play is played:
The Beggar packs beside the Beau;
The Monarch troops, and troops the Maid;
The Thunder huddles with the Snow.
Where are the revellers high and low?
The clashing swords? The lover's call?
The dancers gleaming row on row?
Into the night go one and all.
Envoy
Prince, in one common overthrow
The Hero tumbles with the Thrall:
As dust that drives, as straws that blow,
Into the night go one and all.
2.6k
They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit ling’ring here;
Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest
After the sun’s remove.
I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days:
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.
O holy Hope! and high Humility,
High as the heavens above!
These are your walks, and you have show’d them me,
To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the Just,
Shining nowhere, but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!
He that hath found some fledg’d bird’s nest may know,
At first sight, if the bird be flown;
But what fair well or grove he sings in now,
That is to him unknown.
And yet as Angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul, when man doth sleep:
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep.
If a star were confin’d into a tomb,
Her captive flames must needs burn there;
But when the hand that lock’d her up gives room,
She’ll shine through all the sphere.
O Father of eternal life, and all
Created glories under Thee!
Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall
Into true liberty.
Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill
My perspective still as they pass:
Or else remove me hence unto that hill,
Where I shall need no glass.
2.5k
Adulthood's hour has come to call
Childhood's time has lost its thrall
The clock chimes now, a tolling bell
Marking the passing with every knell
No more games, no time to play
For fragile youth's long gone astray
No hobby horses or decoder rings
The time has passed for simpler things
Leave your toys to gather dust
Leave the playground alone to rust
Be one of us, the time is nigh
So hurry now, and say goodbye
To innocence and naïveté
Leave your hope out in the street
Put away your childish things
Here we have no use for dreams
Imagination's a liability
That clings with fervent tenacity
Put it away with your childish things
Here we have no use for dreams,
Here we have no use for dreams.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 1:31 AM UTC
She walks at night likes passion's grace
Through nebulous fields of dream landscapes
Wild Morpheus her footsteps guides
She’s lust’s impassioned wile incarnate
Her will like swirling ocean currents
Endows the night with wanton purpose
Sent from heaven's pearly gates
To make men ponder mortal fortune
Tempting spirits will to sate
Demanding accolades of prowess
To satisfy her primal needs
Traverse her treacherous terrain
Her visage of immortal love
Like honey dripping from the comb
Inspires reckless heart's abandon
Dawn comes like coitus interruptus
Narcotic wisps of contention fade
A thrall with no earthly recourse
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
The frog half fearful jumps across the path,
And little mouse that leaves its hole at eve
Nimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;
My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,
Till past, and then the cricket sings more strong,
And grasshoppers in merry moods still wear
The short night weary with their fretting song.
Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,
Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bank
The yellowhammer flutters in short fears
From off its nest hid in the grasses rank,
And drops again when no more noise it hears.
Thus nature’s human link and endless thrall,
Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.
2.3k