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RAJ NANDY Sep 2015
RAJ NANDY
37 followers
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE IN VERSE
                                    By Raj Nandy
THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE WAS A PERIOD OF TRANSITION
BETWEEN MEDIEVAL & THE MODERN  WORLD. I propose to
present in three installments my researched work for both the Art &
History lovers of this Site. Kindly take your time to read at leisure before commenting. Thanks, -Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

                   PART ONE: BACKGROUND
The Term Renaissance :
The word ‘Renaissance’ means ‘to be born again’ ,
Derives from French ‘renaistre’ and Latin ‘renascere’, -
both meaning the same !
Swiss historian Jacob Buckhardt by writing “The
Civilization of Renaissance in Italy”,
Helped to popularize this term during the 19th Century !
The Renaissance evolved out of ‘Christendom’ , which
was Medieval Europe ;
Ruled entirely by the Catholic Church and the Pope !
It formed a period of transition between the Medieval
and the Modern Age ,
And as a contrast to the preceding thousand years , -
Which the Latin scholar Petrarch christened as the
‘Dark Ages’ !
This era saw a revival of interest in classical learning
of Greek and Roman art and culture ;
Focused on individual’s life on earth , with a new spirit
of adventure !
Happiness was no longer shelved to an afterlife and
repentance for salvation ;
But it lay in the advancement of human beings on Earth , -
with secular contemplation !
Thus individualism , secularism , and humanism , were
chief characteristics of the Renaissance ;
With innovations in art, architecture , and a scientific
temper of thought !
Knowledge no longer remained confined within the cold
ecclesiastical walls ,
But it spread from Italy across Northern Europe , -
To distant English shores through France !
During the Renaissance era Humanism became its
dominant philosophy ;
And there begins our Renaissance Story, since knowledge
is no man’s monopoly !
Events leading up to the Renaissance were many ;
Let me now dwell upon some salient features which
shaped its History !

THE BLACK DEATH (Peaked between 1347-1352) :
It was brought by Genoese merchant ships from the Orient ,
The fatal bacillus of the bubonic plague carried in the blood
stream of rodents !
The plague from Sicily and Italy spread to Northern Europe ,
All medicines failed , and even the Church provided no hope !
After having raged for almost a decade it started to abate ;
But by then almost one-third of entire Europe’s population
lay dead !
This deadly plague which followed the Hundred Year’s War
between England and France ,
Created social , economic and political upheavals in Europe,
leaving little to chance !
People began to lose faith in the church and on sermons of
afterlife ,
Secular thoughts now prevailed in a world where only the
fittest could survive !
Shortages of labour brought an end to Medieval feudalism
and serfdom ,
And Europe gradually emerged out of those Dark Ages, -
to greet the rising Renaissance sun !
The meager labour force could now bargain for better
wages and individual rights ;
Later, merchant guilds protected specialized labour and
their human rights !
Cities got gradually built and a new social order began
to emerge ,
Historians say that Europe saw the rise of a new Middle
Class !
As Europe gradually begun to recover from the aftermath
of war , plague, and devastation ;
The City-States of Italy lit the torch of a new intellectual
emancipation !
But before moving onto the Italian city-states, I must
mention the Holy Crusades ;
Since the Crusades opened up the doors of knowledge
and trade ;
Helping this ‘New Learning’ of the Renaissance to spread !

THE HOLY CRUSADES (1095-1270) :
At the behest of Pope Urban II and his battle cry “God
Wills It! ” ;
The First Crusade was launched to recapture the Holy Land
from Muslim infidels !
Within a span of next two hundred years eight Crusades
were launched ,
The First one took Jerusalem , but the Second failed to make
Damascus fall !
The Third led by Richard the Lion Heart, made Saladin to
grant the rights , -
To Christian pilgrims to visit their Holy shrines in Palestine !
The Fourth Crusade had sacked Constantinople , - then a
commercial rival of the Italians !
Now cutting a long story short , let us see what History
has taught !
These Crusades helped in opening up the trade routes ,
For importing paper, spices, soap, silk and luxury goods !
Trade was carried out with the countries of Levant region ,
Which included the countries from Turkey to Egypt , -
Bordering the eastern seaboards of the Mediterranean !
These trade routes formed a major conduit of culture
and knowledge ,
And exchanges and interactions broadened the mental
horizon of the Italians !
From Constantinople, recently Christianized Spain , and
the Arab lands , -
The preserved ancient classical knowledge now reached
the Italian hands !
In their School of Salamanca the Arabs of  Spain ,
Had translated works of Aristotle and classical scholars
into Arabic , - thereby preserving the same !
Later scholars translated these precious works into Greek
and Italian ,
And thus the Ancient Classics saw a glorious revival !
The scientific, philosophical, and mathematical thoughts
of the Arabs had also entered Northern Italy ,
From Egypt and the Levant region , to enrich Pre-
Renaissance Italy !
And when Byzantine Empire fell to the Turks in 1453 ,
Its Greek scholars with their precious manuscripts flocked
into Italy !

THE CITY-STATES OF ITALY :
‘Italia’, once the epicenter of the mighty Roman Empire ,
Disintegrated into several small principalities breaking
up Italy entire !
Its mountainous rugged terrain was a barrier to effective
internal communication ;
And no strong unified monarchies emerged, as in other
parts of Europe !
Italy with its peninsula jutting out into the Mediterranean
Sea ,
Had begun to monopolize the trade routes, and also to
prosper economically !
During the time of the Renaissance , Italy had numerous
autonomous city-states and territories ;
Where a powerful leader called the Signore , ruled for
a fixed tenure initially ;
But later this post was declared as hereditary !
Kingdom of Naples controlled the south ;
Republic of Florence and the Papal States the center ;
Genoese and the Milanese the north and west respectively ;
And the Venetians the eastern part of Italy .
These Italian city-states prospered greatly from its growing
trade during the 14th century ;
Its cargo ships visiting Byzantine , and the cities bordering
the Mediterranean Sea !
It became a status symbol for rich families to patronize
art and culture ;
They vied with one another commissioning paintings
and architecture !
But the Italian city-state that had prospered the most ,
Was the city-state of Florence which became the host ;
And the ‘Cradle of European Renaissance’ !
...............................................................­­................................
* ALL COPY RIGHTS WITH THE AUTHOR -RAJ NANDY*
(My Part -II will contain the Story of Florence , - " Cradle of the
Italian Renaissance". Thanks for reading, do recommend this Verse to
your other poet friends!
Comments from Gita Ashok, an Educator, from ‘Poetfreak.com’:- A thoroughly researched erudite collection of historical facts presented in a very lucid and interesting manner. This write made me reminisce all those history lessons that I learnt in school many years ago - many of which I found boring as it was taught in an intimidating way. I feel like going back in time, becoming a student once again and learning history through such creatively written works of art. But I realize that we are all yet students of life and can still continue to learn and grow. I feel fortunate to have read this great piece of literary work and I look forward to reading the second part.-  by Gita Ashok | Reply
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AN INTRODUCTION TO ITALIAN RENAISSANCE was added 21 hours ago.
I

As I ride, as I ride,
With a full heart for my guide,
So its tide rocks my side,
As I ride, as I ride,
That, as I were double-eyed,
He, in whom our Tribes confide,
Is descried, ways untried
As I ride, as I ride.

II

As I ride, as I ride
To our Chief and his Allied,
Who dares chide my heart’s pride
As I ride, as I ride?
Or are witnesses denied—
Through the desert waste and wide
Do I glide unespied
As I ride, as I ride?

III

As I ride, as I ride,
When an inner voice has cried,
The sands slide, nor abide
(As I ride, as I ride)
O’er each visioned Homicide
That came vaunting (has he lied?)
To reside—where he died,
As I ride, as I ride.

IV

As I ride, as I ride,
Ne’er has spur my swift horse plied,
Yet his hide, streaked and pied,
As I ride, as I ride,
Shows where sweat has sprung and dried,
—Zebra-footed, ostrich-thighed—
How has vied stride with stride
As I ride, as I ride!

V

As I ride, as I ride,
Could I loose what Fate has tied,
Ere I pried, she should hide
As I ride, as I ride,
All that’s meant me: satisfied
When the Prophet and the Bride
Stop veins I’d have subside
As I ride, as I ride!
So here Ulysses slept, overcome by sleep and toil; but Minerva
went off to the country and city of the Phaecians—a people who used
to live in the fair town of Hypereia, near the lawless Cyclopes. Now
the Cyclopes were stronger than they and plundered them, so their king
Nausithous moved them thence and settled them in Scheria, far from all
other people. He surrounded the city with a wall, built houses and
temples, and divided the lands among his people; but he was dead and
gone to the house of Hades, and King Alcinous, whose counsels were
inspired of heaven, was now reigning. To his house, then, did
Minerva hie in furtherance of the return of Ulysses.
  She went straight to the beautifully decorated bedroom in which
there slept a girl who was as lovely as a goddess, Nausicaa,
daughter to King Alcinous. Two maid servants were sleeping near her,
both very pretty, one on either side of the doorway, which was
closed with well-made folding doors. Minerva took the form of the
famous sea captain Dymas’s daughter, who was a ***** friend of
Nausicaa and just her own age; then, coming up to the girl’s bedside
like a breath of wind, she hovered over her head and said:
  “Nausicaa, what can your mother have been about, to have such a lazy
daughter? Here are your clothes all lying in disorder, yet you are
going to be married almost immediately, and should not only be well
dressed yourself, but should find good clothes for those who attend
you. This is the way to get yourself a good name, and to make your
father and mother proud of you. Suppose, then, that we make tomorrow a
washing day, and start at daybreak. I will come and help you so that
you may have everything ready as soon as possible, for all the best
young men among your own people are courting you, and you are not
going to remain a maid much longer. Ask your father, therefore, to
have a waggon and mules ready for us at daybreak, to take the rugs,
robes, and girdles; and you can ride, too, which will be much
pleasanter for you than walking, for the washing-cisterns are some way
from the town.”
  When she had said this Minerva went away to Olympus, which they
say is the everlasting home of the gods. Here no wind beats roughly,
and neither rain nor snow can fall; but it abides in everlasting
sunshine and in a great peacefulness of light, wherein the blessed
gods are illumined for ever and ever. This was the place to which
the goddess went when she had given instructions to the girl.
  By and by morning came and woke Nausicaa, who began wondering
about her dream; she therefore went to the other end of the house to
tell her father and mother all about it, and found them in their own
room. Her mother was sitting by the fireside spinning her purple
yarn with her maids around her, and she happened to catch her father
just as he was going out to attend a meeting of the town council,
which the Phaeacian aldermen had convened. She stopped him and said:
  “Papa dear, could you manage to let me have a good big waggon? I
want to take all our ***** clothes to the river and wash them. You are
the chief man here, so it is only right that you should have a clean
shirt when you attend meetings of the council. Moreover, you have five
sons at home, two of them married, while the other three are
good-looking bachelors; you know they always like to have clean
linen when they go to a dance, and I have been thinking about all
this.”
  She did not say a word about her own wedding, for she did not like
to, but her father knew and said, “You shall have the mules, my
love, and whatever else you have a mind for. Be off with you, and
the men shall get you a good strong waggon with a body to it that will
hold all your clothes.”
  On this he gave his orders to the servants, who got the waggon
out, harnessed the mules, and put them to, while the girl brought
the clothes down from the linen room and placed them on the waggon.
Her mother prepared her a basket of provisions with all sorts of
good things, and a goat skin full of wine; the girl now got into the
waggon, and her mother gave her also a golden cruse of oil, that she
and her women might anoint themselves. Then she took the whip and
reins and lashed the mules on, whereon they set off, and their hoofs
clattered on the road. They pulled without flagging, and carried not
only Nausicaa and her wash of clothes, but the maids also who were
with her.
  When they reached the water side they went to the
washing-cisterns, through which there ran at all times enough pure
water to wash any quantity of linen, no matter how *****. Here they
unharnessed the mules and turned them out to feed on the sweet juicy
herbage that grew by the water side. They took the clothes out of
the waggon, put them in the water, and vied with one another in
treading them in the pits to get the dirt out. After they had washed
them and got them quite clean, they laid them out by the sea side,
where the waves had raised a high beach of shingle, and set about
washing themselves and anointing themselves with olive oil. Then
they got their dinner by the side of the stream, and waited for the
sun to finish drying the clothes. When they had done dinner they threw
off the veils that covered their heads and began to play at ball,
while Nausicaa sang for them. As the huntress Diana goes forth upon
the mountains of Taygetus or Erymanthus to hunt wild boars or deer,
and the wood-nymphs, daughters of Aegis-bearing Jove, take their sport
along with her (then is Leto proud at seeing her daughter stand a full
head taller than the others, and eclipse the loveliest amid a whole
bevy of beauties), even so did the girl outshine her handmaids.
  When it was time for them to start home, and they were folding the
clothes and putting them into the waggon, Minerva began to consider
how Ulysses should wake up and see the handsome girl who was to
conduct him to the city of the Phaeacians. The girl, therefore,
threw a ball at one of the maids, which missed her and fell into
deep water. On this they all shouted, and the noise they made woke
Ulysses, who sat up in his bed of leaves and began to wonder what it
might all be.
  “Alas,” said he to himself, “what kind of people have I come
amongst? Are they cruel, savage, and uncivilized, or hospitable and
humane? I seem to hear the voices of young women, and they sound
like those of the nymphs that haunt mountain tops, or springs of
rivers and meadows of green grass. At any rate I am among a race of
men and women. Let me try if I cannot manage to get a look at them.”
  As he said this he crept from under his bush, and broke off a
bough covered with thick leaves to hide his nakedness. He looked
like some lion of the wilderness that stalks about exulting in his
strength and defying both wind and rain; his eyes glare as he prowls
in quest of oxen, sheep, or deer, for he is famished, and will dare
break even into a well-fenced homestead, trying to get at the sheep-
even such did Ulysses seem to the young women, as he drew near to them
all naked as he was, for he was in great want. On seeing one so
unkempt and so begrimed with salt water, the others scampered off
along the spits that jutted out into the sea, but the daughter of
Alcinous stood firm, for Minerva put courage into her heart and took
away all fear from her. She stood right in front of Ulysses, and he
doubted whether he should go up to her, throw himself at her feet, and
embrace her knees as a suppliant, or stay where he was and entreat her
to give him some clothes and show him the way to the town. In the
end he deemed it best to entreat her from a distance in case the
girl should take offence at his coming near enough to clasp her knees,
so he addressed her in honeyed and persuasive language.
  “O queen,” he said, “I implore your aid—but tell me, are you a
goddess or are you a mortal woman? If you are a goddess and dwell in
heaven, I can only conjecture that you are Jove’s daughter Diana,
for your face and figure resemble none but hers; if on the other
hand you are a mortal and live on earth, thrice happy are your
father and mother—thrice happy, too, are your brothers and sisters;
how proud and delighted they must feel when they see so fair a scion
as yourself going out to a dance; most happy, however, of all will
he be whose wedding gifts have been the richest, and who takes you
to his own home. I never yet saw any one so beautiful, neither man nor
woman, and am lost in admiration as I behold you. I can only compare
you to a young palm tree which I saw when I was at Delos growing
near the altar of Apollo—for I was there, too, with much people after
me, when I was on that journey which has been the source of all my
troubles. Never yet did such a young plant shoot out of the ground
as that was, and I admired and wondered at it exactly as I now
admire and wonder at yourself. I dare not clasp your knees, but I am
in great distress; yesterday made the twentieth day that I had been
tossing about upon the sea. The winds and waves have taken me all
the way from the Ogygian island, and now fate has flung me upon this
coast that I may endure still further suffering; for I do not think
that I have yet come to the end of it, but rather that heaven has
still much evil in store for me.
  “And now, O queen, have pity upon me, for you are the first person I
have met, and I know no one else in this country. Show me the way to
your town, and let me have anything that you may have brought hither
to wrap your clothes in. May heaven grant you in all things your
heart’s desire—husband, house, and a happy, peaceful home; for
there is nothing better in this world than that man and wife should be
of one mind in a house. It discomfits their enemies, makes the
hearts of their friends glad, and they themselves know more about it
than any one.”
  To this Nausicaa answered, “Stranger, you appear to be a sensible,
well-disposed person. There is no accounting for luck; Jove gives
prosperity to rich and poor just as he chooses, so you must take
what he has seen fit to send you, and make the best of it. Now,
however, that you have come to this our country, you shall not want
for clothes nor for anything else that a foreigner in distress may
reasonably look for. I will show you the way to the town, and will
tell you the name of our people; we are called Phaeacians, and I am
daughter to Alcinous, in whom the whole power of the state is vested.”
  Then she called her maids and said, “Stay where you are, you
girls. Can you not see a man without running away from him? Do you
take him for a robber or a murderer? Neither he nor any one else can
come here to do us Phaeacians any harm, for we are dear to the gods,
and live apart on a land’s end that juts into the sounding sea, and
have nothing to do with any other people. This is only some poor man
who has lost his way, and we must be kind to him, for strangers and
foreigners in distress are under Jove’s protection, and will take what
they can get and be thankful; so, girls, give the poor fellow
something to eat and drink, and wash him in the stream at some place
that is sheltered from the wind.”
  On this the maids left off running away and began calling one
another back. They made Ulysses sit down in the shelter as Nausicaa
had told them, and brought him a shirt and cloak. They also brought
him the little golden cruse of oil, and told him to go wash in the
stream. But Ulysses said, “Young women, please to stand a little on
one side that I may wash the brine from my shoulders and anoint myself
with oil, for it is long enough since my skin has had a drop of oil
upon it. I cannot wash as long as you all keep standing there. I am
ashamed to strip before a number of good-looking young women.”
  Then they stood on one side and went to tell the girl, while Ulysses
washed himself in the stream and scrubbed the brine from his back
and from his broad shoulders. When he had thoroughly washed himself,
and had got the brine out of his hair, he anointed himself with oil,
and put on the clothes which the girl had given him; Minerva then made
him look taller and stronger than before, she also made the hair
grow thick on the top of his head, and flow down in curls like
hyacinth blossoms; she glorified him about the head and shoulders as a
skilful workman who has studied art of all kinds under Vulcan and
Minerva enriches a piece of silver plate by gilding it—and his work
is full of beauty. Then he went and sat down a little way off upon the
beach, looking quite young and handsome, and the girl gazed on him
with admiration; then she said to her maids:
  “Hush, my dears, for I want to say something. I believe the gods who
live in heaven have sent this man to the Phaeacians. When I first
saw him I thought him plain, but now his appearance is like that of
the gods who dwell in heaven. I should like my future husband to be
just such another as he is, if he would only stay here and not want to
go away. However, give him something to eat and drink.”
  They did as they were told, and set food before Ulysses, who ate and
drank ravenously, for it was long since he had had food of any kind.
Meanwhile, Nausicaa bethought her of another matter. She got the linen
folded and placed in the waggon, she then yoked the mules, and, as she
took her seat, she called Ulysses:
  “Stranger,” said she, “rise and let us be going back to the town;
I will introduce you at the house of my excellent father, where I
can tell you that you will meet all the best people among the
Phaecians. But be sure and do as I bid you, for you seem to be a
sensible person. As long as we are going past the fields—and farm
lands, follow briskly behind the waggon along with the maids and I
will lead the way myself. Presently, however, we shall come to the
town, where you will find a high wall running all round it, and a good
harbour on either side with a narrow entrance into the city, and the
ships will be drawn up by the road side, for every one has a place
where his own ship can lie. You will see the market place with a
temple of Neptune in the middle of it, and paved with large stones
bedded in the earth. Here people deal in ship’s gear of all kinds,
such as cables and sails, and here, too, are the places where oars are
made, for the Phaeacians are not a nation of archers; they know
nothing about bows and arrows, but are a sea-faring folk, and pride
themselves on their masts, oars, and ships, with which they travel far
over the sea.
  “I am afraid of the gossip and scandal that may be set on foot
against me later on; for the people here are very ill-natured, and
some low fellow, if he met us, might say, ‘Who is this fine-looking
stranger that is going about with Nausicaa? Where did she End him? I
suppose she is going to marry him. Perhaps he is a vagabond sailor
whom she has taken from some foreign vessel, for we have no
neighbours; or some god has at last come down from heaven in answer to
her prayers, and she is going to live with him all the rest of her
life. It would be a good thing if she would take herself of I for sh
and find a husband somewhere else, for she will not look at one of the
many excellent young Phaeacians who are in with her.’ This is the kind
of disparaging remark that would be made about me, and I could not
complain, for I should myself be scandalized at seeing any other
girl do the like, and go about with men in spite of everybody, while
her father and mother were still alive, and without having been
married in the face of all the world.
  “If, therefore, you want my father to give you an escort and to help
you home, do as I bid you; you will see a beautiful grove of poplars
by the road side dedicated to Minerva; it has a well in it and a
meadow all round it. Here my father has a field of rich garden ground,
about as far from the town as a man’ voice will carry. Sit down
there and wait for a while till the rest of us can get into the town
and reach my father’s house. Then, when you think we must have done
this, come into the town and ask the way to the house of my father
Alcinous. You will have no difficulty in finding it; any child will
point it out to you, for no one else in
The shining stars are sunk in darkness deep,

The weary sun is dead at night,

The moon’s soft smile doth fade anon;

But still my soul is marching on!



The grinding wheel of time hath crushed

Full many a life of moon and star,

And many a brightly smiling morn;

But still my soul is marching on!



The flowers bloomed, then hid in gloom,

The bounty of the trees did cease;

Colossal men have come and gone,

But still my soul is marching on!



The aeons one by one are flying,

My arrows one by one are gone;

Dimly, slowly, life is fading,

But still my soul is marching on!



Darkness, death, and failures vied;

To block my path they fiercely tried.

My fight with jealous Nature’s strong,

But still my soul is marching on!
Lauren J Jun 2013
I wish I was blind
To leave the superficial behind,
Take a breath from drowning
In the insignificance of my surroundings.

Beauty is the illusion that escapes the surface of me,
I can never find it in the reflection I see.
It has been defined in straight lines
And by the passage of time.

You see that magazine girl?
It makes my head swirl,
Popping off the page
SHE owns the stage.

I once vied for so-called perfection,
Clawing at my face and body
Ripping apart, section by section.

Epiphany struck me to no longer chase it
For it is a mirage that disappears the closer you get.
I peer through transparent skin,
Searching for what lies within.

I desire to find something more,
To learn to shut out the ramblings of a shallow world.
Blue zoo hue true through due stew brew flue crew boo to you grew jew new ooh poo rue sue shoe

Pain stain bane rain cain feign sane train brain lane main inane grain

Gold bold sold mold scold cold doled fold foaled hold rolled

Feel seal real deal meal keel heal heel kneel wheel zeal steel steal peal peel

Melt felt belt dealt knelt pelt welt

Pent mint sent rent lent vent bent went dent gent glint spent tent rent

House louse blouse

Curt shirt

Bridge ridge

Pocket rocket socket walk it

Crank dank frank hank rank stank bank tank yank blank sank

Tout pout rout route lout bout clout doubt shout scout

Knoll shoal foal bowl coal dole mole whole hole roll soul toll pole

Bust rust dust crust lust fussed just must combust trust

Lewd dude sued rude crude booed aptitude mood food *******

Fort sort court report tort port quart consort contort retort cohort cavort snort

Maid raid jade laid paid ***** obeyed aid made weighed evade parade afraid glade

Ounce pounce trounce bounce

Porch torch scorch

Flounder rounder

Trace face race lace ace brace case pace waist waste

****** haunch paunch launch

Long song gong **** wrong strong tong belong

Fast mast past vast crass glass brass last aghast hast

Gulch mulch

Survive alive hive rive jive live strive

Twirl whorl curl hurl furl burl girl pearl rural whirl

Flaunt taunt haunt daunt vaunt

Hoot moot loot boot toot shoot cute jute root suit newt

Weep seep steep keep heap deep creep leap beep jeep reap

Hide side abide bride died guide lied glide bide vied wide ride tide slide

Serene ravine green gene careen obscene demean

Fin pin sin men tin wren Zen

Bought naught fought caught ought distraught drought

Meld weld held gelled knelled quelled emerald withheld

Left heft deft

Verve swerve curve

String thing bring sing king ping ring wing sting ding

Boon soon moon tune loon **** noon rune croon

Knave grave brave rave save wave crave pave
Combating poetic writers block
Sunny Chopra Oct 2013
Current events are conducive
with nonchalant seeming pace

When future springs surprises
with time I will learn to face

Cheery is current subsistence
and freewill so far I propound

Confines once start stifling
I may break newer ground

Perceptive mind is still active
infinite inspirations all about

If my illusions start dissipating
new pastures I would scout

Resources are just adequate
for me to earn daily bread

In days of desolate penury
will take what fate’s spread

Traversed I have distances
to seek serenity for my mind

Treks in future if improbable
then peace within I will find

Environs are lush and verdant
their magic for one to behold

As autumn spreads it’s magic
with different shades of gold

Realism is a confusing passage,
through many an abyss and ridge

Each nuance to be vied aptly
while coming to cross any bridge
Nicola Mar 2019
Beyond the seas, there are the Isles
Where the old castle once proudly stood
Nothing but a shadow of its former glory
Its land once divided of mortals and other beings

The mist surrounds the ruins
Secrets buried in the grave of the past
But one,
The echoes from both past and present
That once inhabited the old castle

A legend,
Intertwined strings of two souls
How their fates led by one prophecy

The Ethereal and Brilliant One, the Isles princess who shall become the epitome of a King
The Man with a Thousand Names, the creature of the Old who shall become the embodiment of a Knight

Where it all began,
Magic is forbidden
Those whose learn or unfortunately born with magic
Will meet their fate with one swift blow
The law reached far
To a Golden King who ruled over a distant land
A prosperous mortal Kingdom in Albion
The Golden Queen bore a child before passing

The princess had
Hair as bright as the sunrise
Skin as fair as porcelain
Eyes as blue and green as the ocean

The King’s oldest sister
Klorress, who wish the crown for herself
She dreamt of riches and fame
Studied dark magic in secret
The daughter invoked the rising wrath and jealousy

The same Isles princess, a headstrong youth
Many who vied for her hand sung praises about her ocean eyes
Will soon collide with
The same creature of the Old, a sorcerer
Born in the sea fortress who speaks the language of dragons
With a name cannot be spoken in any other land than his own
He travelled far to the ancient Kingdom
Destined to become the companion of the daughter
who's blood shared
with the destruction of dragons by many Kings

Before Midsummer,
Knowing the prophecy first hand, the sorcerer dreaded
She is the key to uniting the whole Isles
To hold the light for mortals and other beings

Scornful of his destiny to protect the crown princess
The princess’ haughtiness exasperated the sorcerer
While his bumblingness and silliness makes him a favourite of ridicule

Their destiny may
have been written in stone, but their journeys together made their friendship and grudging affection flourished

Two idealists seeking justice and truth
Body of a young woman beneath lies the heart and spirit of a King
And
A man who’s in a quest for knowledge of the new World
In absolute, he strengthened his oath of protection

The Golden Princess is not without enemies
His magic was soon revealed
Klorress made attempt to seize the kingdom
With her magic alone,
The King’s sister actions was undermined by the sorcerer

He stood in front before the princess
“I am magic.” He whispers
The confession led to exile

Without a goodbye
He fled to the forest

The next Midsummer has passed,
Dragonlord, the banished magics have called him
In the middle of the forest of thorns
He was free to use his magic yet it doesn’t soothe the ache

Heavy footsteps came
The sight of the unexpectant princess
Harsh red marks on her skin pierced by the thorns
Her dishevelled appearance with a determined look,
She was a sight, she was glorious

Her father, the King has been slayed
The Kingdom is brought on its knees
Klorress’ invading army have sieged the castle
The False Queen wears the crown and sits on the throne

The princess managed to run with the remaining loyal knights
She carried their will as her pride
She now was a contender for the crown
The sorcerer agreed to accompany
The Golden Queen, she shall be

The princess
Rally the people
Against a common foe
She as the rightful heir
To pull the promised sword from the lake
The task was impossible but for this Isles’ sake
It’s a risk she will take

“Have faith,” The sorcerer said
The miracle she held in her hands
Holds the golden sheath written ‘Worthy thee beholder shall bear the same glory I had vowed for’
The sword bathed in light  
The light of eternity
For the words hope and glory engraved in the sword  
As acceptance of destiny

The war ended with two shared blood exchanging swords
One perished and one gravely wounded
The sorcerer carried the princess to heal her wounds
He tells her to hold on despite on the brink of death
Her usual bravado fades little by little
Painting the floor red along the way
Stumbling, the location is too far
She looks into his eyes with unconcealed devotion
The ocean eyes
She says, “Let’s meet again.” instead of goodbye

Gentle sunrise shyly peaked through the leaves
As soon as the light hits, she closed her eyes
She was soon placed on a boat

The boat sailed away
Swallowed by the sea
Where she sails,
Lays beyond his reach
She will breathe her first air in where she rests
The infinite
land where she lays in the flower fields, the promised sovereign was resting

Her demise spread across the land to the seas
Her name achieved immortality

With the sun fading, the moon soon followed
Chasing for the fading light  
He waits for her on the other side
As she on the other end
Detained in the isle near to the fae
Sharing the same view, the gentle waves of the waters that separates them
Waiting for him

Now, the sorcerer wanders towards the old castle
Shrouded of the faded Golden Age
Last time, he walked in a grand castle, he walked with the Golden Queen
Now he walks with his memories
The land was soon caged with conflict
The Isles is in dire need
He walked out of the entrance

The wind shifts, blowing freshly
Through his path
He stops, craning his head to the forest behind him, and just knows
He knows
This is the day she will be with him again
The Golden Queen
The Golden Queen has returned
This is written in the last few days for my Poetic Documentary.
Nigel Morgan Sep 2012
Wind in the night. Rain against the curtained window. At the approach of morning the dawn chorus vied with the wind’s swirl and the rain’s beat. In rare moments of calm a blackbird’s solo song sang. Listening, listening whilst still seeking sleep there is a continuous presence of grey sound; are there waves tumbling on a beach, or is it air conditioning sounding across an empty room? Now drawing the curtains the morning is revealed in a tumultuous garden. Branches are thrown upwards into the dripping sky, downwards to the wind-blown grass. On the rain-drenched patio the mirroring flags are dotted with pear blossom.
Prose masquerading as poetry - or maybe the other way round. Whatever, this is a first toe in the water for my collection here on Hello Poetry.
Marshal Gebbie May 2011
A line of trees in massive form
Encroach along a ridge of stone,
Gnarled, bent and weather worn
Their clinging roots call granite home.
This ancient wood has weathered time
Felt the freezing gales of snow,
Has witnessed birth and death by day
Through life's kaleidoscopic show.

Oh the stories they can tell
When sunshine in the heavens ,warm,
When rivers run in merry tune
And safflower honey bees do swarm.
Oh the stories they can tell
When fillies kicked their heels in grass,
When whippoorwills did sing their song
And rampant stallions vied for class.

Oh the stories they can tell
When ancient armies trod this way
When clashing steel rang loud and clear
And good blood flowed in battle fray.
Oh the stories they can tell
When faceless horsemen galloped by,
The stench of putrid fear's lament
When populations bled to die.

Oh the stories they can tell
Of mountain peaks succumbed to fire,
Where ash removed the very sun
And panicked people fled the dire.
Oh the stories they can tell
Of black and white and good and bad
....But immaterial, perhaps, to trees
Who root in rock and seem so sad.


Marshalg
Taranaki dreamin'
26 May 2011
K Balachandran Sep 2020
She robbed me, untill
There was nothing left.
I too did the same while
She was busy at it.
Who did first, or what exactly,
All that are immaterial.
I could vividly member
What her eyes did magically,
Bringing us to
The point of convergence.
Then a haze did spread
Our hot pursuit started,
On  planes higher and higher.
Then there was the
Request from her inner depth
Without any word uttered.
"Oh! take it all" a blanket permit,
No doubt,
I heard my heart echoing it
With a fervour to outmatch,
When it got back to her
We were fighting the fire
Our hearts set on with desire,
Isn't it she who  first
Sobbed with pleasure?
No! we both vied with each other
To make it a sonorous chorus.
In this heist who did what
Could never be charted
In any order,
Time and space got jumbled
During the course of this heist!
Suffice to say, it happens
Mostly once in a lifetime,
If lucky you really are, that is.
What more can one ask for
To recount to your kids
On the ritual of passing the baton?
John F McCullagh Jul 2013
Brave men run toward the flames
when others turn and flee.
Without such courage all is lost,
there could be no victory.

From fire Station Number Seven
the men of Prescott heard the call.
"Go and set a fire break
near the town known as Yarnall.

It was a race against the clock.
Their team of twenty vied
to wall off the drought fueled flames
before a whole town died.

A stroke of lightening set the blaze
that would consume them all.
With the county suffering a drought,
the trees were tinder dry.
when wicked Western winds whipped up
the Granite Hotshots died.

In the town of Prescott, Arizona
in fire station number seven
A stained glass window commemorates
men who died deserving heaven.

Brave men run toward the flames
when others turn and flee.
Without such courage all is lost,
there can be no victory.
19 out of twenty men of the "Granite Hotshots" fire company died fighting a blaze on 06/20/2013
Jenn Nix Dec 2014
The son of a carpenter climbed a cross
And Saturnalia was lost forever…
Slaves, adorned in masters clothing
once drank out of the golden goblet and goosed the mistress
vied with paupers for King of Fools
banged pots and pans, slept with sloe-eyed boys til morning
poked, prodded, pampered, kissed, and loved again
The solemn lords of the city peered from their heavenly contemplations
and felt, like a worm in the mysticism of direct communication with    god
a bit of remorse, a hint of resentment against the marble steps,
a yearning for the dance, for the abandonment of the senses
for a pageant worthy of those ***** old gods

MITHRAS, BACHUS, DIANA, DISCORDIA.

Before Christmas pushed jostled and shoved the holiday
out of the way,
we opened our homes to all the poor
they become the masters for the day.
while we ran behind with dishcloths and wild cries of
DON”T BREAK THAT
and infused with a small perverse pleasure
took our masks down for a night -
I will play sly servant lass
while my staid husband is forced into corners
with women who struggle to keep their teeth in
And their children fed.

If there were no Jesus,
the tree would still go up for the Norse
the presents still go out for the British
the children still adored for Saturn
the feast still cooked for the old Germanic tribes –

humility, guilt and being saved, saved, saved
saved from the drunkards in the streets,
saved from the firecrackers, the happy children, the Yule log,
saved the togetherness, the topsy-turvy of this most celebrated
happy out-of-control neighborly Solstice ancient block party-

That came from Christ.

Thanks Jesus, you old scrooge.
They took their shovels and digging tools
To the top of Highgate Hill,
They walked in a deadly silence there
In the dusk, in the evening chill,
They picked their way through the deep-laid bones,
The monuments, great and small,
And looked for the plain Rossetti stone
In their search for Elizabeth Siddal.

That red-haired, wraithlike, ghostly girl
Who had charmed the PRB,
She'd sat, at first, for Deverell
Who was doomed, with Bright's Disease,
She'd fallen hard for the artist then
Though her love was never returned,
For Deverell died so suddenly -
It was as if her love was spurned.

She sat for Dante Gabriel,
For Holman Hunt, Millais,
As the model for drowned Ophelia
In an ice cold bath she lay,
She lent her beauty to every brush,
Each stroke laid bare her soul,
When she looked around for herself she found
There was nothing left at all.

Rossetti had kept her close to him
As he slowly became obsessed,
He scribbled a dozen portraits from
Her head to her heaving breast,
He placed her high on a pedestal,
A Madonna in all but name,
But kept his physical love from her
That she might not suffer shame.

He penned the poems he wrote for her
In a small, grey calf-skin book,
He carried the poems everywhere
As a proof of the love it took,
He made no copies, he held them close
They were food for a future muse,
For his art and poetry vied with him -
It was painting he would choose.

But she; who knew what rent her soul,
The cravings she despaired?
She sipped at the potion laudanum
As her heart and her mind were bared,
She scribbled the weary verses that
Spoke love, of a love long-lost,
While Dante frolicked with Annie Hughes
At Elizabeth Siddal's cost.

As Lizzie despaired on laudanum
She had ceased to be of use,
Her visage was sad, and aged and drawn
In the sick room of abuse,
While girls with youth, vitality
And an earthy yen for sin
Like ***** Cornforth, came to sit -
And Rossetti let them in.

They wed, but much as a faded dream
The knot had been tied too late,
As Lizzie, dying a little each day
Succumbed to a morbid fate,
For one dark night she had laid her down
Penned a final note, to whit:
'My life has become so miserable
That I want no more of it.'

She lay by an empty laudanum phial,
Rossetti was quite distraught,
He'd loved her, but with a purer love
Than his lust or his money bought,
His grief was such, as he laid her down
In her coffin, she looked so fair,
That he placed the book of his poems
Between her cheek and her auburn hair.

The years went on and he sank himself
In a pit of despond, unwell,
Withdrew from his friends and dosed himself
With a phial of chloral,
His painting suffered, his income too,
He turned to the ancient muse,
And thought of the poems beyond the grave,
He knew that he'd have to choose!

He wrote to Charles Augustus Howell
A rogue that he'd used before,
To test him; whether to dig her up
Or to lose his poems forever;
Howell replied he should get them back,
Or he'd lose them to death, for good,
'Your works are the works of genius,
Bring them back to the world - You should!'

So Howell, he toiled up Highgate Hill
While Dante hid in his lair,
Too scared to look on his love again,
His muse with the auburn hair,
A fire was lit in the dead of night
The coffin was raised on high,
His love was torn from her deathly stare
They could almost hear her sigh.

The book was caught in her tangled hair
Which had filled the coffin's space,
And she was lovely, and quite serene
As they lifted the book from her face,
They lowered her gently, back in the ground
That had served as her awful tomb,
She lay defiled like a bride, reviled,
But without her lawful groom.

Rossetti published his poems then,
They sold by the thousandfold,
For Howell had leaked the story out
That he hadn't wanted told;
But a fate awaited Augustus Howell
A revenge that would beggar belief,
He was found, throat cut in the gutter -
With a coin, tight clenched in his teeth!

David Lewis Paget
Julie Grenness May 2016
Heading for the next election,
Votes vied for by vicarious politicians,
Who are we all voting for?
Is it for their superannuation? Or,
Streamlining services to sway us,
Does Oz really needs such fuss?
We're walking on the winning side,
Let's have some more Hi-fives!
Debates due no direction,
Teen brain selfie obsessions,
These are our politicians,
It's a short, amusing ride,
Someone pass vicarious pesticide!!!
FEEDBACK WELCOME!
Shivam S Jun 2016
Love was never for dreamers
for it shows dreams of its own
never fulflled not even close
dreamers have died seeing this unending prose.

I dont wish to die
never hoped for it or vied.
i wish to fly
even if it means to be alone.

My love may never come true
nor do my dreams of us
i will make dreams of my own
and fly and fly all alone.
Sacrifice of love for dreams you have seen
Carla Marie Sep 2014
you're the oldest in the line
you're now the matriarch
exclaimed my beloveds...
**** how'd this happen?!
I thought with a start- cuz
this is not a part
that i tried for
expected or vied for
All i did was keep livin...
didn't even do it
to my own satisfaction
but all of my mothers are long gone... and
i had to learn to
be my own caution sign
listen to my own still small voice
hug myself when necessary... and
it's taken quite some time
to reconcile me with me
come to grips with my nature
find my
Individuals Peace
which is good... ultimately...
Cuz all of my mothers
are gone
Nikhil Acharya Jul 2014
It was a cold August morning
       and the wind, it sighed.
The mist wrestled the light;
       valiantly, but in vain it tried.
The smartest man of the world
       took one look at it and cried,

How?
       The fiends looked so innocent when they lied.
What?
       The ambitious, so callous when they stride.
When?
       The pious, so righteous when they deride.
Why?
       The pure, so broken, they complied.

He hatched his  plot
       threw trivialities aside.
He dared with a vengeance,
       his actions belied.

How he healed the hurt!
      And he'd hardly even tried.
What a way he sated the rapacious!
     Into harmony they had vied.
When he showed honor to the honorable,
     he was wary not to toe their pride.
And the pure,
     they died.

'Why, then do I now not wonder why?'
     unto the light and mist he cried.
It was a cold August morning
     and the wind, it sighed.
Ksjpari Aug 2017
All are not born with same talent wide
So are looked upon badly, get chide
Without any mistake they stride
Trying to overcome aversion and pride.
Such children are made stand at curbside
And never in limelight nor can they decide
Where to win or verve or vigor or hide.
Such a boy is Neelraj, whom I too cried
Bad words and treatment. Later I sighed
In his support who was naughty and vied
For excellence in his behavior to ride
The position he not aspired for in pride.
Hence again I like to say – Never divide
Children in class and creed; nor deride
Them for what they not had spied.
Neelraj’s naughtiness and mischief can be dried
Into obedience, respect and duty; not to snide.
I am developing a new style of writing poetry where all ending words rhyme with one another. I named it “Pari”.  This is a unique style which is being recognized by many critics through some sites. Thanks to those invisible hands and fingers which supported and inspired me to continue my efforts in my new, creative, artistic and innovative “Pari” style.
Riley Key Cleary Jun 2015
The room was dark,
and my screen was bright.
Pale hand on my mouse,
oh I was ready to fight.

"Welcome to the rift"
the game had began.
I bought my first items,
and to my lane I ran.

I made some bad calls,
but the team had my back.
The seconds passed us by,
the deaths started to stack.

Forty-two minutes in,
neck and neck we stood.
An ace would end the game,
yet neither of us could.

With dragon on the line,
both teams vied for power.
Fighting ensued and we had won,
for their ADC chose to cower.
So If I had to guess, maybe like .05% of the hellopoetry community even plays league so I dont expect this to go far but it might be a fun read to those of you who understand it.
Blue zoo hue true through due stew brew flue crew boo to you grew jew new ooh poo rue sue shoe

Pain stain bane rain Cain feign sane train brain lane main inane grain

Gold bold sold mold scold cold doled fold foaled hold rolled

Feel seal real deal meal keel heal heel kneel wheel zeal steel steal peal peel

Melt felt belt dealt knelt pelt welt

Pent mint sent rent lent vent bent went dent gent glint spent tent rent

House louse blouse

Curt shirt

Bridge ridge

Pocket rocket socket walk it

Crank dank frank hank rank stank bank tank yank blank sank

Tout pout rout route lout bout clout doubt shout scout

Knoll shoal foal bowl coal dole mole whole hole roll soul toll pole

Bust rust dust crust lust fussed just must combust trust

Lewd dude sued rude crude booed aptitude mood food *******

Fort sort court report tort port quart consort contort retort cohort cavort snort

Maid raid jade laid paid ***** obeyed aid made weighed evade parade afraid glade

Ounce pounce trounce bounce

Porch torch scorch

Flounder rounder

Trace face race lace ace brace case pace waist waste

****** haunch paunch launch

Long song gong **** wrong strong tong belong

Fast mast past vast crass glass brass last aghast hast

Gulch mulch

Survive alive hive rive jive live strive

Twirl whorl curl hurl furl burl girl pearl rural whirl

Flaunt taunt haunt daunt vaunt

Hoot moot loot boot toot shoot cute jute root suit newt

Weep seep steep keep heap deep creep leap beep jeep reap

Hide side abide bride died guide lied glide bide vied wide ride tide slide

Serene ravine green gene careen obscene demean

River quiver flivver giver liver

Fin pin sin men tin wren Zen

Bought naught fought caught ought distraught drought

Meld weld held gelled knelled quelled emerald withheld

Left heft deft

Verve swerve curve

String thing bring sing king ping ring wing sting ding

Boon soon moon tune loon **** noon rune croon

Knave grave brave rave save wave crave pave
Combating poetic writers block
Stella Apr 2018
You ask me why I don’t talk to you,
You always ask me why I don’t trust you
You always ask me why I’m never around.
Why should I trust someone
Who always puts me down?
Why should I talk to someone
Who doesn’t care?
Why should I be around someone
Who never believed in me?
It’s your own fault for the relationship we have now,
You never cared about me
You never noticed the things I would do
You never saw how I vied for your attention
You ask me how I ended up like this
You ask me why I put myself down,
Do you not remember those words YOU spit at me?
Do you not remember YOU always discouraged me?
Do you not remember how YOU hurt me?
I’ve been told,
Since I’ve been young,
That I won’t be anything.
Don’t you think that sticks?
The words thrown at me,
For years,
“You can’t be creative”
“You won’t be anything great”
“Your dreams are unattainable”
“You’re hopeless”
These words might seem like nothing,
But they impacted me.
I have so little self-confidence,
That I won’t even TRY to be better.
I resigned myself to be nothing
To be a nobody,
To just fit in,
All because you couldn’t praise me,
You didn’t help
You didn’t ever say anything nice,
You just destroyed my dreams,
So my failure,
Is on you.
Is it sad that this is so, so true? Anyways, thanks for reading. I hope you like it.
Cassie Mae Mar 2012
We laid in my bed
as the snow fell all around
but I felt the chill.
You stroked my hair
as I kissed your lips
I felt you pull away.

I still see red
with feet firmly on the ground
you took away the thrill.
A vacant stare
my beating heart skips
if only to end the day.

Trying to clear my head
my ears pounds
trying to find the will.
All I did was care
as you vied for my hips
but you wouldn't stay.

My feeling left for dead
falling making no sound
river of emotions comes to a still.
Love is hard to bare
tears from my cheek drips
how could you leave me this way?
(c) Cassie Mae Writings 2012
Ksjpari Aug 2017
Gems of world - all girls my pride
Are happy and make so when tried;
Drashti & Mansi – best friends tied
To another as a fly to sugar when spied.
Sanjana and Dhruvi with all stride
Ahead to make others deride.
They are my charms and pride -
Intelligently innocent, and guide
For me and class in our collide.
Lucky is a silent asteroid
Who bursts in hostel wide.
Darshana innocently flied
In hostel during Yoga allied
With Udita who always denied
To be a part of Yoga, but tried
To save skin by moving aside
When problems don’t subside.
Meshwa and Tamanna – bromide;
Burst in class if one belied.
All nine gems of Akbar’s I vied
In my sweet angels without snide
I hope they’ll never forget my bestride
For them and come in my cyanide.
I am developing a new style of writing poetry where ending words of a line rhyme with one another, at least in last sound. I named it Pari Style. Hope readers will like it. Thanks to those invisible hands and fingers which supported and inspired me to continue my efforts in my new, creative, artistic and innovative “Pari” style. Thanks for your inspiring, kind, soft fingers.
Bernice Helena Feb 2019
A bond broken
Is forever torn.
Words left unspoken
Are perceived with scorn.

Why do you still get under my skin?
Writhing, twistingー
Tendrils of tenure,
Of an angel's allure.

With malignant certainty,
You hurt me
And lure me into the dark
Unknowings

Of a man's lie
Against time ill-vied.
I just want to forget it all.
storm siren Oct 2016
I feel like nothing.
Like I'm washed up and overrated.
Like I'm some type of loss,
But not quite unimportant enough
To go unnoticed,
But not quite important enough
To really be vied after.

And maybe it's just me,
Because honestly it doesn't strike me bad
Enough to make me cry,
But it strikes me enough to sigh,
And know this is what I'm probably worth.

A response,
A small phrase of comfort,
But probably nothing more,
Probably nothing less.

But I so desire
To be held and told
That maybe it's alright,
That maybe I'll be able
To sleep tonight.

But how can I rest,
How can I breathe,
When the monsters come for me
Even in my dreams.

There's no escape,
And there's nowhere to run.
He's destroyed what worth I had,
And I'm just so done.

And wish I may,
And wish I might,
I don't have it in me,
I can't fight the past-- Can I even fight?

I wanted to be braver,
I wanted to be stronger.
But I can't do it on my own,
I can't do it any longer.

I know for sure that you'll
Help me get through,
But I'm terrified of
What this means for you.

And I'm absolutely terrified,
Of something I can't see.
It's this monster I know too well,
It's this monster that follows me.

I wish I could
Change my way,
But I don't know what to do,
Nor do I know what to say.

And I love you so,
And I know you love me too,
But with this monster beside me,
What are we supposed to do?

I need your arms around me,
As soon as you can manage.
I hope you read this.
What the hell rhymes with manage?
It's like I'm okay but I'm still vaguely aware that I'm not.
Clinton Arneson Mar 2017
The giant bird

his feathers black

runs along

his favored track


I crouch down low

amid the reeds

the spear I hold

toward, he speeds

the time has come

my family starves

through frozen air

my spear tip carves

Flying true

Or maybe wide

with wind and

gravity it vied

and will it hit?

and bring him down?

will I return

to great renown?

The darkness comes

the sun has set

the snow alights

the valley wet

I see the fire

on the ridge

my arms are sore

but just a smidge

for I return

a huntress true

with meat enough

for all of you
taylor Feb 2020
Greenleigh:

Rounding your cottage side,
There you were, bundles tied,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
What plan were for the blooms?
In the kitchen rose fumes,
You truly  hoped for a tryst,
Wine love potion cauldron,
Boiled in my drink to stun,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.

Haven:

My beauteous neighbor,
I submit to ardor,
All in obscure struggles midst,
I see your distant gaze,
But you I try to faze,
You were all to me exist,
“I will beckon at noon,
In this hot summer June,”
All in obscure struggles midst.

  Greenleigh:

But as I spy, I think,
Then discreetly slink,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I culled my own blossoms,
His allures my thraldoms,
I truly hoped for a tryst,
To you a bit of remorse,
Yet my heart waxed full force,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,

I catch the way you stare,
I will avoid our affair,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Supplanted your fetters,
Entreaty, scrawled letters,
He were all to me exist,
I thought to meet halfway,
Might I be led astray,
All in obscure struggles midst,

  Wyn:

And I received her word,
Intended a detour,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Read the book of magic,
My love to you chronic,
I truly  hoped for a tryst,
Donned my riding garments,
Leas, with my assortments,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,

Her eyes, you I outshone,
Heedless to her writ tone,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Fancied your ivor teeth,
Smooth skin, your clothes ‘neath.
You were all to me exist,
In daydreams I drifted,
Blunders, I self chided,
All in obscure struggles midst,

  Greenleigh:

Shocked when I saw him trot!
With grasp I became fraught,
All in obscure struggles midst,
He visits you, not me,
Deceit deserved, yet plea!
You were all to me exist,
Could not look in his eye,
Yet utter not goodbye,
All in obscure struggles midst,

Haven:

“Neighbor, wrong I done ye!”
I watch only blankly,
All in obscure struggles midst,
Her twisted mouth distressed,
No one thought we were blessed,
You were all to me exist,
I mumbled, brimming tears,
Should have asked direct, fears,
All in obscure struggles midst,

He was the fool of fate,
Confused yet did await,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
I vied for your full love,
As you to his yet shove,
I only hoped for a tryst,
Rapt in misconceptions,
Mocked us, even aspens,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,

All:

Yet not so sly were we,
Does cognizance come bleak,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
We greeted happenchance,
What’s left but insistence?
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
Admit not errs, turn rightwards,
Fracturing our concords,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,

  Greenleigh:

Anxiously sipped bottles,
And did we start battles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed,
Suffused eyes, flushed faces,
Affects spill, anguishes,
Our furtive attempts yet missed,
We die lone in shambles,
Bonds of love in scrambles,
Cerise honeysuckles kissed.
The famous last words,
When you are finished with the world,
After the deed has been made,
Or the blackmail has been laid,
Following the end of the job,
Or when lives have been robbed,
This is what they mostly say,
After swimming through every day,
Some are given the sweet remorse,
While others bury the neat discourse,
Not all are clean of debt,
Especially to their revenge of death,
Because they never died,
They **** everyone they like,
For every soul they vied,
Never reciprocated they vile pikes.
Is it done, especially to people not fighting back? Is it done because you say so? Is it done because you won? When every end is a beginning, so when the world dies will something be born out of its period?
Rachel Armstrong Nov 2021
there was a little girl
with brown hair and green eyes.

when she was very young,
her family seemed broken,
and she became very quiet.
before long, she was able to forget
and as she became older,
she began to talk again.
she began to read,
and everyone told her she was gifted.
she could read far above her age
and she could easily retain knowledge
and could even infer things she had never read at all.

her family protected her
and kept her safe always
and yet, she was so sheltered
that she did not learn to survive
and as she grew older
others found her smart
clever beyond her age
but she was reserved,
and once more,
she became quiet
to her,
the world was confusing
and especially people
and she worried every time she spoke
that her words would be taken
in a wrong, hurtful way
she was afraid of being judged
but had nothing to be judged for.

amidst all this,
the girl was lost.
she did not know where she would go,
or what she would do,
or how she would make a difference.
when she seemed most lost,
she met a boy.

the boy was also alone,
and struggled with his words,
and feared being judged.
she did not notice him at first,
but he vied for her attention,
and soon enough,
the two admitted their love.

they grew closer and closer
and the girl finally felt,
for once in her life,
she had something to live for
someone to care about
and she finally found hope in the lonely dark.

she decided, on her own,
that she would do anything for him,
and would try her hardest to keep him safe,
and to give them both a life.

as she grew older still,
her resolve never wavered.
she faced many trials
learned things she never thought she could,
and overcame her own weaknesses
and made them her strengths
all in the pursuit of the happiness
she envisioned with the boy,
in some distant future,
that seemed not so far away.

she was finally proud of herself,
and became more confident with her words
and stopped worrying about being judged.
but she felt something was wrong.
she felt her soulmate was keeping something from her,
and when she asked, he fell silent, every time.

she screamed and yelled and asked what was wrong
because she only wanted to help, to understand
but he said nothing.

and every sleepless night
she would finally find respite
and say she was sorry,
and that it was her fault
for overthinking
and worrying.

the feeling never left her
but her infatuation kept her from realizing
that the fear was well justified
and she had known the truth all along,
but refused to accept it
because the hope of that future
could not ever be replaced
without losing something of herself.

when the little girl had finally found her way
and had overcome her struggles,
and became something greater
than she had ever once thought she could
the boy disappeared.

she asked after him and asked his friends,
and asked anyone she thought might know him
and know where he went or that he was safe,
mostly that he was safe. only that he was safe.

she met another, who echoed her concerns
but in the same manner,
that this person loved him too,
and she realized,
as the other did,
what had happened.

the girl, stricken in grief
over knowing her hope was gone,
lost as fast as it had sparked,
knowing things would never be the same,
finally found the boy again.

she told him she knew,
and she had accepted it,
but she wanted to know why.
he admitted everything,
and she believed him when he said
he did not think he was good enough
to be a partner to someone like her
and had fallen into his lies and deception
to stay with her for just a little longer
he was on the street,
and he had given up,
but she had not.

she was now stronger,
and she saved him from himself,
and despite the wrongs he had committed,
she still stretched her own willpower
as far as it could go
to save his life and keep him safe,
because despite shattering her heart,
and leaving it broken,
she still loved him,
if not as a life partner,
as they would never be, and never could be,
but as someone who had proven
that she could be loved
she still felt he had helped her overcome herself.

unable to bear him any longer,
she asked him to leave, for good
she did not want any repayment
she did not want him to have debt
she simply wanted him to move on
and find a better life, and to be honest
to himself, and to those he knew
and she hoped her kindness
would help the boy change
but she would never know for sure
because he was gone forever.

as her pain worsened and corrupted her,
she finally was unable to bear
seeing the dream she once had
broken and lost over and over,

every day,

every hour,

every minute,

painful and excruciating

in a place she wanted to call home
that instead became a prison
of her own self-deception
and self-hate.

so, the little girl began to wander
in dreams and in flesh
and she found peace in nightmares
and sought dysphoria and introspection,
dancing with Alice and singing with Tina,
because she had lost so much of herself
she felt she had to journey to reclaim what was lost.

she searched every nook,
every cranny,
every alley,
high and low,
but found nothing
and ran out of hope in the process.

after journeying as far as she could go,
she collapsed, and gave up.
she fell on her back,
and stared at the stars,
and wondered how she could possibly live
without the idea of him, not of what was, but what she hoped for.
but she knew it was over, and her dreams were gone
forever
and ever
and ever.

she stood up, one more time
and met her family again.
but this time, her fears were realized
they were broken, moreso than her
and with all she had learned
she could finally see it
and realizing this,
she knew she could not go home
and that there was nothing for her there
they disagreed,
but she knew better.

she met many more people as she wandered
now aimless, and often kowtowing
to those she did not care for or respected.

she began to listen

and to hear their cries,

and their anxieties,

and their worries,

and their dreams,

and their fears.

and she realized

that all these people

were just like her.

they all had the same problems
the same anxieties,
the same worries,
the same dreams.

her final weakness had been conquered
and she understood others
often better than they understood themselves.
they were all a step behind
they still worried about and misunderstood
the intentions and assumptions of others
while to her, it seemed obvious.

and as the little girl listened and helped
and brought peace and comfort to many souls
who had no other way to find it,
she had forgotten about herself
and she began to slowly slip further and further
away from who she was, and away from who she wanted to be
until she found herself giving everything to help others
and never once helped herself.


when asked how she knew their worries so well
and could explain their fears and doubts
with such clarity and ease

she said she had felt it all before

many times

many, many times

and rather than be defeated by them
she reflected, and pondered
and wondered why she felt this way
and with her gifts, of language and reason,
she could put her feelings to words
but never for herself, only for others
because she needed a catalyst to bring this talent to bear.

the girl became more world-weary
and became more alone
as her gifts were temporary and ephemeral
and she lost those she helped
she never became angry, or discouraged
she knew they had their own lives,
and she was satisfied if they had, even a little
appreciated her time, and her thoughts
which had all come from pain, and strife
that she had been able to survive.

as she lost the last of her friends
and lost the last of her hope
and finally crumpled, in a sorry state
and found her own strength wanting
after carrying so many others on her back
and after all that had happened,
and after all she had done,
and after all she had endured,
thinking of everyone she hurt,
everyone she helped,
every heart she broke,
and those who had broken hers
she finally found
somewhere in herself
the courage she had thought she lost long ago
and let herself cry.
vega Mar 2018
lipstick stains
and beyond
at the backseat
and all over my brain
i missed the tears
under the covers
disappearing
like little favours
leave me alone
i will close that track
cross the threshold
and mind the gap
i vied for this
this vile acridity
this insane stupidity
and i believe in
the reverse of sense
hoping tragedies
like a sceptical god
a symphony like
sweet medicines to
kick in when the
lights rage in blood
forget about me now
my floral imprints
blossoming on skin
pretty in red and pink
are nothing but
butterfly memories
fleeting and fugacious
as cold as your kiss
hug that jacket tighter
and close both eyes
the walk is shorter
than this long drive
but if your lips bruise
or your fingers tire
from singing back
dear, i’ll douse the fire
my gasoline’s empty
and i’m almost out
this is all falling apart
so hold your mouth
and when everything
fades out slowly to
music and black
as you forget to listen
you will find that i
wiped away all of the
evidence, and the
lipstick stains are missing.
Inspired by: Floral & Fading by Pierce The Veil

— The End —