i can't beleive i ruined,
such a perfectly good thread,
just because a day of depression,
took hold of my writing.
forgive me for my turmoil,
please, continue this good thing,
and leave behind my sad words.
i strive to revive,
this thread of thycrow's
for i hope to continue,
ponderance in poem.
i wish to hear other's thoughts,
please, continue this writing.
please, continue this wondering.
i want to wonder at the amazements of this world,
look into its sorrows,
and explore it's imperfect beauty.
Do not apportion blame
where it has no place
or loosing words
when we cannot keep apace
Two worlds to juggle
Time to apportion
sometimes a train
or thought is lost
despite our intended caution.
Everything is made to fade
Everything is designed to break
Everything is future decay
But this thread, I doubt
Has passed away
A sleeper wakes with morning rays
Perhaps the sun will rise today
I trust, Dakosha, you will not mistake
Slumber for the great longsleep
So much to say,
And yet scant time to think.
I fear to move my hand,
Less I smudge the ink.
For although these thoughts are timeless,
The pen is just now in hand.
I apologise truly for my absence,
I swear it was unplanned.
For I have been a terrible host,
I left my guests unattended.
Please forgiven my inhospitality,
Do not let this thread be ended.
For it was once a place of respite,
A place to rest my bitter heart.
I look forward to renewed conversation,
And pray you return even now as I depart.
Again I apologise truly,
And I will make recompense.
Look for me on the Horizon,
I will appear in two weeks hence.
A bedtime story...
Upon a time there was a man,
Or as close as a man might be,
Atop whose shoulder stood a crow,
The weight bore him to bended knee.
Now this man had but one wish,
To rid himself of this feathered foe,
But try as he might he could not succeed,
He could not get this foe to go.
Make no mistake this man was clever,
Yet the crow was cleverer still,
Betimes the crow would leave his shoulder,
But it would return at will.
And although the man truly cherished,
The times he stood unencumbered,
The crow never left his mind,
For he knew his days were numbered.
And in the shadows absence,
The man would truly try,
But nothing he did was ever enough,
The devil was in the corner of his eye.
For it had left its mark not only on body,
But on his soul as well,
And in the times the crow was gone,
The man would wish for hell.
He begins to wonder was it chance,
Or was their union fated,
And as the man closes his eyes,
The struggle continues unabated.
For although it is gone,
The crow always returns.
He cannot decide if it is better to succumb,
Or to continue to burn.
Oh, to walk through a dream woven by words,
And feel the lack of a gift to give in return.
My poetry lies sleeping under the stream,
Gone from my conscious,
Or so it would seem.
Oh, to wish the words and hear none reply,
And know they once were right here inside.
My poetry is trapped behind the rusted lock,
But to get past the door,
I only have to knock.
my weak reply
these words unsaid
the time comes nigh
I weep with dread
how shall I state the crimes accused
against the innocent and abused
the guilty high upon wealth's seat
now sharpen an axe to kill the meak
and truth not spoken
toward these lies
my breath is held
to save more lives
but those that suffer
by this tragedy
have been accused
of undone deeds
I shall not forget the deceased
their memory forever chimes
I wish for them to rest in peace
how shall I atone for my crimes
I've played judge with other's lives
To let some die
so others survive
Tis to late their souls pass by
To let some die
I have no right
and let those close weep and cry
I think of those dead as they haunt me this night
A saying I heard went like this: those with the power to take action have a responsibillity to take action. or something along those lines
For Elspeth who shall live in fans hearts forever!
We suffer through a reign of oppression
Our heads droop from depression
Those with voices outspoken
Death by fire is their token
And the herders they glower
At our mind bending powers
And curse our kind
For our higher state of mind
We await a maiden
With hair black as a raven
Her title which is seeker
Shall defend the weaker
From the destroyer's cold rage
The world's fate to be obliterated or age
So now we ask thee
Our lives at stake
To save us from a terrible fate
With bold green eyes
She stares down demise
Her destiny foretold from beings above
She travels and leaves behind all she loves
Not a single look back she gives
To the life she used to live
Elspeth brave and bold
Though her story not fully told
Unnoticed tears she's cried
At times alone with no one to confide
With quiet tears
Her sadness and pain she covers
For she seeks not pity from others
Beauty and courage shine in her heart
Her love for Rushton shall never part
A crow is heavy
But a feather light
It is a sickly justice
No wind to sail kite
No fuel to turn the rotor
No altitude, no height
It soars so high
It gloats and mocks above
Just to swiftly dive
And crash down on our love
It makes a game of pecking hollow
The treasures we once held
It opens up its beak to swallow
The sweetness from ourselves
Is there a cage
That could trap the clever crow?
If we clip its wings
Will we clip our woe?
With constant weight
Our posture bends
And never can we straighten up
Not til inevitable end
Not til vulture descends
'Oh to have vulture
Instead of lingering crow.
Oh to succumb
And escape the lows.
Make me carrion! Give me vulture!
If that will banish crow.'
Perhaps though a reprieve
A sudden intermission
A spark, a rotor turning
A climb into some optimism
The wind might pick up speed
The altitude is surely rising
The kite confident and free
The flightless might be flying
And just when fate seems turned
And that thought you hid doth ring
'Was it but gravity upon my shoulder?'
Alas, the flapping of wings
The bird of prey returns
To make the final kill
But when attack repeats forever
Finality becomes the purest will
Hark, listen for the beating
Be wary of its company
Be wary of its greeting
But do not wary its demise
Entertain your thoughts with this
However silly, however unwise
'What must sit upon crow's shoulder
If your pain is its greatest prize?'
Though it may feel a villain
Crow is just crow
Though it scratches its talons
Crow is just crow
It wants not cuttlefish
It wants not seed
It wants not anything
No hunger, no greed
It may visit some
More than others
But it has no friends or enemies
No rivals or brothers