Post by Dewey on Nov 5, 2004 23:29:22 GMT -5
I don't know where this came from! I read Lord Byron's 'The Curse of Minerva', and was suddenly in the mood to write poetry. I was also plagued by the thought that I haven't posted anything in so long. Well**takes deep breath** here it goes. Tell me what you think.
Porcelain Masquerade
By: Dewey
___________________________________________
O’er ee mountain’s air, lay dust, lay breath, lay deadly austere.
The pony ye prancing unto Earth’s descending bound.
The fount stay idle as all peasant and pure alike.
ruptured, cursed, bound, and bright.
Stay subside in their futile attempt of life.
She stand brave, tall, fair, and wise.
They bow willingly or equate to Satin’s wicked beasts.
Nouveau. Tis new these feelings which never she felt before.
That man, behold.
“Ye, there. Encumber be released. Be gone. Leave he to crowned heads.” He, Heaven be named, shalt be forbade from ever Her presence.
He halth be named.
He christened be saved.
Minerva, She fine, gaze glowering eye
toward man ye ho
forever undying.
Man opaque in account
lie wreathing near thy side.
Tisn’t her tale,
tan’t time shall tell.
Yet, behold,
tis it he?
Shalt all shall fail.
shalt none should walk alive,
He be existent?
His tale be told to only She fair, lovely hand-maid.
He be thrown unto the dungeons,
such sweet, sweet sorrow.
She laugh much hollow laughter,
Yet, something lay forgotten, some thief not locked away.
Hardy, redundant precautions assure Her secure,
hand-maid Maia used not for be She need her breath.
White knight brought from the dungeon.
engage in which fool feel.
Locked in room hid way from civic eye,
She brought unto those lips, those entrancing, mesmerizing lips
blood begeth her of a soldier's, blood baptize holy She.
Only They remember time.
When night and day subside, moon and sun crash by.
Glintering dangerously down the channel, glistening far beyond in mind.
Fair white knight and holy She,
forgotten of past and future of which be seen,
Now ye behold together,
A memory uptil not forSeen.
To touch a child’s life.
To teach a magic seed.
Ye fickle fiends, now do.
Tis their honor now bequeath
From Merlin’s last request. . .
Yeh new-found heroes be villains of thy olde.
Years and years seem passed by.
And fateful heroes not now regret, what favour God would suit them best.
A colour longing for the sky
Moonlit wanderings filled with guide.
Has hope now passed them by?
or left them gazing for some answer to life’s risqué new disguise?
Porcelain Masquerade
By: Dewey
___________________________________________
O’er ee mountain’s air, lay dust, lay breath, lay deadly austere.
The pony ye prancing unto Earth’s descending bound.
The fount stay idle as all peasant and pure alike.
ruptured, cursed, bound, and bright.
Stay subside in their futile attempt of life.
She stand brave, tall, fair, and wise.
They bow willingly or equate to Satin’s wicked beasts.
Nouveau. Tis new these feelings which never she felt before.
That man, behold.
“Ye, there. Encumber be released. Be gone. Leave he to crowned heads.” He, Heaven be named, shalt be forbade from ever Her presence.
He halth be named.
He christened be saved.
Minerva, She fine, gaze glowering eye
toward man ye ho
forever undying.
Man opaque in account
lie wreathing near thy side.
Tisn’t her tale,
tan’t time shall tell.
Yet, behold,
tis it he?
Shalt all shall fail.
shalt none should walk alive,
He be existent?
His tale be told to only She fair, lovely hand-maid.
He be thrown unto the dungeons,
such sweet, sweet sorrow.
She laugh much hollow laughter,
Yet, something lay forgotten, some thief not locked away.
Hardy, redundant precautions assure Her secure,
hand-maid Maia used not for be She need her breath.
White knight brought from the dungeon.
engage in which fool feel.
Locked in room hid way from civic eye,
She brought unto those lips, those entrancing, mesmerizing lips
blood begeth her of a soldier's, blood baptize holy She.
Only They remember time.
When night and day subside, moon and sun crash by.
Glintering dangerously down the channel, glistening far beyond in mind.
Fair white knight and holy She,
forgotten of past and future of which be seen,
Now ye behold together,
A memory uptil not forSeen.
To touch a child’s life.
To teach a magic seed.
Ye fickle fiends, now do.
Tis their honor now bequeath
From Merlin’s last request. . .
Yeh new-found heroes be villains of thy olde.
Years and years seem passed by.
And fateful heroes not now regret, what favour God would suit them best.
A colour longing for the sky
Moonlit wanderings filled with guide.
Has hope now passed them by?
or left them gazing for some answer to life’s risqué new disguise?
, Dewcat, awesome! Yes, awesome, awesome, Dewey! ;D Me likies this poem muchly!
