"vallies" poems
As I walk this fertile land
Sights of beauty I behold
Vallies of blinding awe
Cornfields golden green
Sweet bluebells,kissing
Foxes ,rabbits daily routine
Countryside smiling so serene
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
As I walk this fertile land
Sights of beauty I behold
Vallies of blinding awe
Cornfields golden green
Sweet bluebells,kissing
Foxes ,rabbits daily routine
Countryside smiling so serene
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 12:37 AM UTC
there is a land, of 4 leaf clovers
they wave over hills
and swim in the vallies
In this land, no one cries
In this land, no dreams die
and three leaf clovers are scarce
because should you break
A four leaf clover
A dream dies
and less birds fly
So, in this land,
of four leaf clovers
everyone steps over clovers
and dreams don't die
and birds always fly
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
All the night in woe,
Lyca’s parents go:
Over vallies deep.
While the desarts weep.
Tired and woe-begone.
Hoarse with making moan:
Arm in arm seven days.
They trac’d the desert ways.
Seven nights they sleep.
Among shadows deep:
And dream they see their child
Starvdd in desart wild.
Pale thro’ pathless ways
The fancied image strays.
Famish’d, weeping, weak
With hollow piteous shriek
Rising from unrest,
The trembling woman prest,
With feet of weary woe;
She could no further go.
In his arms he bore.
Her arm’d with sorrow sore:
Till before their way
A couching lion lay.
Turning back was vain,
Soon his heavy mane.
Bore them to the ground;
Then he stalk’d around.
Smelling to his prey,
But their fears allay,
When he licks their hands:
And silent by them stands.
They look upon his eyes
Fill’d with deep surprise:
And wondering behold.
A spirit arm’d in gold.
On his head a crown
On his shoulders down,
Flow’d his golden hair.
Gone was all their care.
Follow me he said,
Weep not for the maid;
In my palace deep.
Lyca lies asleep.
Then they followed,
Where the vision led;
And saw their sleeping child,
Among tygers wild.
To this day they dwell
In a lonely dell
Nor fear the wolvish howl,
Nor the lion’s growl.
1.6k
Make-believe multiverses written in the
Rain
Petrichor
Ichor
Blood of (my) gods
Congeal. Thick. Rich, putrid poultry pan
opticon
theon
The bigger I am the smaller I am,
King of nutshells,
In ambition I beg--beggar butcher
Kingly kind **** beggar--look
In, give in, cave out implosion (my)
God demands sacrifice; copper
liquid spills, fresh,
Replace
old blood
Regicide,
Warm
running
red
over
Mars,
Vallies of dead bones they
Make a noise (crunch) like
Nutshells
Eggshells
White emaciated pale weathered withered
wothered wondered want I want I wont ...
A L I L Y S T A N D S
In v a n i t y v a l l e y
G r e e n blue v i o l e t
T r e m b l i n g I--I am
Cold
I can't feel my hands.
I rush rash rip stem
And all
Timeless life
Look how it not dies in my hands.
Look
I can't see
Unstuck by time trapped
In this eternity, make-believe,
Flower fickle, it is
A sentinel robbed of its post,
Eons past will pass before decay,
L I L Y ' S F A I T H --Can't
Let go of this moment, just
Let it die in peace,
In v a n i t y v a l l e y
Of bones dry dying...
When I wake up I see a man
Whose hands are open and eyes
Are free to wander.
He is royalty--a royal beggar,
A dry flower pierces
His heart--it rains
River
run red
with
orange juice sun
Squeeze.
His hands on his sides.
On sand and seashells.
Open valley, horrible horizon.
Celestial cosmos ocean sky is
That it? Is that me?
Do I raise my hands or f
a
l
l
To the ground. Beg.
Where are my gods? This
Sun is too bright, I can't see.
The cold. I blow breaths of smoke.
Vapour vanish too
Cold. I can't feel my hands. Go
Back
Inside.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
Untitled
I
Shall
Pick myself with the ashes
Of these rhymes
And
Saturate my cavity walls
With the very of your smiles
Although
I feel no crush into pieces
It seems
I'm way-lost in these puzzles
Yet
Sweet nostalgic hymns
But I feel like I'm moving circus in oxymoron
I'm walking over hills the rains
Yet my head twirls beneath the vallies
I
Am confused
Like any of these
Falling stars amidst the universe
But
How do I fuse
These words you speak in obscure
A piece..
I'm confused anyways
Untitled
©Historian E.Lexano
®Recalcitration With Excellence
historianelexano.Wordpress.com
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 6:20 AM UTC
Canyons of deep purple
Echoing with silent cries
So much grief, so much hardship
Hidden beneath happy eyes
It's a muted colour, often unnoticed
Bold colours are so much nicer and easier to see
Beautiful and happy
Life filled and free
Its the undertones that build up the bright
Mould the landscapes
The mountains and vallies of who we are
It's there swirling brushstrokes that outline our shape
Though they are layered over
With the thick oil paint smiles
They are still real, still raw
The base coat for all life trials
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
Have you ever fell in love?
Fell in love soo over-whelmingly
That you cannot survive the fall
Fell in love such that
That one person is your gravity
Like he is the one meaning of your existence
That one person echoing in your head
Like the vallies sutround you
He is everywhere
In your imagination
In your hallucinations
In your dreams
In your words
Just his mere mention
Can light something in you
That can make you burst with the blindness of his rime
Stuck in a satan's play
Weakened by your own blindfold game
You don't see yourself being dragged in pain which he frames
And now you realise
That you are fooled with his gorgeous smile
Now lying in cold freezing night
With the hand on your heart
Hoping for a new shine
And you think love is just not mine
Snapping the fingers
And you are out of your dreamy night
Relieved, so relieved
That you could plunge with joy
Standing in front of you
Is the love of your life
With the gorgeous smile
And the overwhelming love for you, right?
And stupid girl don't you see
Here is your cold freezing night
Your satan's play
Standing in front of you
And you! Proving yourself
That love is just not mine
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 11:46 PM UTC
by Terrell Morrow
Motown tune harboring,
Automobile industrial base vicarious drive,
Downtown city lighting life-giver of struggling spirit,
Red-winged-angel-singing city I call home.
They tell me we can’t keep it together,
I fight for your honor trying to ignore the families I’ve seen ripped apart
Through the pressure of financial stress that weighs down the strength
Of even the toughest of Pistons.
Even though I’ve seen the happiness of children ripped away
Transcending from that signing purple colored dinosaur
To the morning sounds of hums,
I’ve heard a remembrance of the happiness of people ripped away
By purple colored gangbangers.
I say to those who don’t see the fury in our eyes,
That burns with the blaze of a 1967 riot,
Is the truth of our history:
Our city, our home, our tears,
From the very moment you set foot on that Riverwalk
And see the Princess set sail to a dream on a bank of beauty
As the waters part like Moses’ path.
We are but mere underdogs with the purest of waters.
The product for which they lust for the thirst in which we quench
An essence for which we must for the fist in which we clench
As we fight our endless battles and the Hells we’ve created in Paradise Vallies
As we walk through the valley of the shadow of death-toll population
Hand-in-hand generations that shine like sons of the son.
Yo, show me a city that’s aware of its oblivion,
And simply relaxes like my hometown,
Detroit.
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 7:17 PM UTC
In the crisp of morning, does edge of rest approach. For in the tents of great men do the warriors awaken in preparation for battle.
Sharpening their swords, fortifying their shields, girding their spears and dawning their armours - a crest for honour. Though amid the steadiness, do they await the word of their beloved monach.
"Sar-Shalom!" be the cries heard, echoeing upon the voices of the wind. Reaching even beyond the battlefields. The name of the monach, adored by the great men, anticipating the words to come.
Alas, wisdom comes on the voice of the wind: "In the vallies, will you victories come". Bewildered they stood, asking themselves "why?" But, their monach adorned in their love does their loyalty stand.
So, to the vallies do they march. Upon the word do they stand, anticipation honoured by their trust. For a hard battle will they fight, yet a grand victory will they know - a relief from their beloved.
From the peaks do they descend, and to the vallies do they arrive. The battlefield marked for honour by their seeing eyes;
Unsheathing are they ready, for the accusers come - but unexpecting are they, for the assurance declared in the meeting of blades.
The divines surrounding their accusers, is the battle endorsed for the victors. As they cut down even their final Goliaths. In the praises given up on the voices of the wind, does Sar-Shalom hear the chants - His great men, now the victories of Eden.
Now the journey do they cherish, in returning to their home. The tents of great men, now victories on the heights. What more shall be done? But to sing in glee. For the enemies borders are lost in the restoring victory.
Their wounds shall heal, and bruises shall fade, but the songs of glee shall ring out through time, eternal;
Oh, the voices of the winds chant forever "Victory in the Vallies!"
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 8:36 PM UTC
Poetry is a wonderful land
Where classic, romantic and modern trees stand
Evergreen are the soothing trees
The delightful rhythm fly in the breeze
The vallies are so beautiful so deep
The people are mesmerised after they creep
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
I am alive but in the cage
Mouth gagged, pinions chained
Life is here only darkness
No sun, no moon, no star bright
I wish i were the fleecy clouds
To fly and soar over the seas,
Mountains and wonderful vallies
Or the breeze to blow and sail away
And sing my own song everywhere
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 6:22 AM UTC
The
Stars are drowsy now
So let me tell you two or perchance
Two and more heroic folklores
*
Let
Me tell you
How my soul descends
Amidst the Nile river and wend
My way through the vallies
As I scramble in the brambles searching for thorns to write on the wild emotions
*
Let
Me tell you
How sweet I ******
The blushing rose just for the milky lines and rhymes
*
Let
Me tell you
How I finds myself submerged in the oceans
And drowning and drowning
In my delusions and affections
*
Let
Me tell you
How I smile every mile I gets whiles I write
And childishly engraves them in every word I fetch…
To be cont….
©Historian E.Lexano
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
A powder blue epiphany of -
cumulus figurines , dancing conifers -
and copious sun-showers
Roadsides teeming with daffodil ,
dogwood and wildflower
Burnt orange dusk , southbound -
waterbirds , violet vallies and -
silvered hillsides
Noble oaks brimmed with -
vociferous crows , jays and -
blackbirds
Wind driven brown grass disappearing -
into the western horizon
Village bells
Distant afternoon fires
Roosters calling for the day to close
The clang of Angus and Brahma coming home
Stars mingling with earthen shadow ...
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC