Filed under: Poetry: Death, Poetry: Depressing, Poetry: Love, Poetry: Thoughts, Quotes | Tags: Quotes, Thoughts
I’m not dying because you don’t want me anymore. Rather I was already dead, and came alive for the brief moment you did.
Filed under: Poetry: Death, Poetry: Depressing, Poetry: Love | Tags: gothic, Poetry
Don’t you crave for the silver grave?
Fasten these chains on me now.
I’ll taste the ecstasy on your lips,
Before the eternal sleep.
I beg for poison to flood my blood,
Be kind and kill me sweetly.
Breathing, you’ll hear me in your ear,
Pleading, I yearn for your dominion.
Leave behind a psychedelic relic,
They’ll unravel mysteries from your eyes.
How much longer can we contrive,
In a cruel bid to stay alive.
Life is a blue and sorrow-tinged dream where I can’t fly,
Where my feet are bound to the rhythm of passing time,
And as the stars I wish upon rise and fall, I sigh,
For I’m acquainting my feet to this cold grave of mine.
Life is slow music played in the saddest notes and keys,
I can hear the wail of a blind man deep in his eyes,
I can hear an orphan crying for all she’s received,
Is the same ancient deathbed where her mother now lies.
Death’s footsteps are coming for the man of decadence,
The sickle is poised at the back of soldiers and babes,
I see the dead’s fingers reaching for their descendants,
While the sun shifts for the moon’s rising that never fades.
The young maids all dance so lightly and for love they fight,
Do they know grief is coming to steal their hearts away?
The young men all kiss their brides under moonlight tonight,
But the bed of fire they lay on to death must repay.
I see an old woman gaze far while her hair turns fair,
As she embarks on a walk t’wards a loveless confine,
Where the hearts of her beloveds have turned cold with fire,
Yet I need to keep walking ‘pon this deathbed of mine.
*A despairing thought that was stuck in my mind for some time a few months back. Where the earth which we all walk upon is simply the deathbed on which we will lie one day.
Brother why are you grieving for me there?
I am merry in these fields where the flowers never die.
And the flowers upon my grave there that lie,
Are blooming here with a blush so shy,
And I am stringing a wreath for you to wear.
Brother why are you longing for me there?
I am satisfied in this place barely there.
With gold that paves each pace that’s bare,
Each carved and shines of stones so rare,
And when you come we’ll make the loveliest pair.
Brother why are you worrying for me there?
I am safe in this valley where the rivers run clear.
Where lions I lie beside with no fear,
And no ravens scavage or cry deep fear.
So go to sleep without frown or care.
Brother why are you weeping for me there?
I am running with vigour in these fields for real.
My dear mortal angel who on earth surreal,
Looked after his sister so pale and frail,
Now needn’t for her care will fall in any lair.
Brother why are you singing for me there?
I am singing here with the chorus so pure.
But that’s alright for your voice so raw,
Reaches my ear and tugs on Life’s core,
And I sit and listen for your voice so rare.
Brother why are you crying for me there?
I am restful in this place where the rested tread.
Where the air I breathe is Life’s very breath,
Where song and verse is daily bread,
Under a sky vast, gentle and fair.
Brother why are you missing me there?
I am humming under the sun, can you hear?
So wipe away that perpetual warm tear,
For it breaks my heart to see that, my dear.
Don’t fret for soon you’ll be with me here.
*Written while attending a church service, where someone’s wife had died from a tragic road accident. To me accidents are the worse way to go, and although I cannot claim to fully understand his sorrow, I can truly imagine. This one is for him.
I saw her by the Vale that eve,
Braiding her hair and weeping in grief.
I saw her under moonlight that eve,
Or was it her ghost I perceived?
Her silver hair shimmered lonely that night,
Her tears were like crystal beads of light.
I saw her languid, a sorrowful sight,
Or was it her ghost I met that night?
I heard her sighing, a burdened sound,
And saw her teardrops blood-red on the ground.
I saw her twin in the stream float down,
Or was it her ghost that I found?
I saw her in my eyes today,
Gaunt and hollow, paled from moon ray.
And to me her lips formed as if to say,
That mortal ghosts musn’t go where ghosts lay.
*Written for carrionfields.com as the wood-elf bard once again. Here, due to a past fraught with sorrow and deaths, she feels like she is no longer alive and just a walking corpse but yet, has to force herself to go on living out of duty.
A thousand epic songs could not express my love for you,
And neither a single word spoken.
A thousand sunsets could not represent the shadow of your beauty,
And neither the most intricate petal.
A thousand swans could not compare to the grace that charms your ways,
And neither a single land’s Queen.
A thousand snowflakes would first burn up in scorching flames,
Should they fall at the feet of your purity.
A thousand red roses would first blush in burning shame,
Should they have but a glimpse of your glory.
A thousand stone fortresses would first crumble to bare nothingness,
Should they be compared to your strength.
Only a single teardrop under the night’s faintest moonlight,
Comes close to representing your beauty.
Only a single whisper in my ear,
Carried by the gentle wings of wind,
Can tell me what your heart truly feels.
Only solemn winter’s silence alone,
Can clearly speak for your thoughts.
*Wanted to translate the beauty of true love. It is about a deceased lover, and how he loves her so much yet she is no longer there.
Walking down the street with a sexy strut,
I must say you had a good portion of blessing’s part.
With a body so hot and a figure to kill,
Like a well in a desert dry and still.
Scouring the landscape neath’ those shades,
With a pretty eye and a stare on bottom laid.
The gods must have really enjoyed,
Moulding your features fore’ to earth you were deployed.
The lips so plainly luscious,
And bounty clearly precious.
With a smile that’s quite angelic,
Boys want with demons in them frolic.
Ah but inside that pretty shell of yours,
The well has been flushed with remorse.
The soul that dwelled behind those eyes,
Has been cruelly dismissed and demised.
The smile carved from Beauty’s very knife,
Bears no more of Beauty or of Life.
And the angels have been murdered,
And your own demons have been birthed.
*About beauty being murdered by lust.
My love has called me once again,
Inviting me to come and dance.
She speaks so softly, and holds me closely,
Her deceiving touch numbing all my pain.
Her lambent smile captivates my soul,
As she beckons me near to her.
So I dance with her on the fields til’ dawn,
The blood at my side only comes from her.
As morning quivers on heavy rolls of mist,
Yet will she not allow me free.
Her fingers hunger for my weary soul,
Her sweet song blending with my hoarse war cry.
Her chilling touch soothes the pain she metes,
The fire she ignites I bear within my eyes.
Her humming is like winter’s lament,
And her kisses death incarnate.
*Written for carrionfields.com. War taking the form of an enchanting lady.
He was a master of all defenses,
His silver sword his shield.
No curve or blade could penetrate,
Majestic was his parry.
He was a warrior offensively groomed,
His bare fists the brunt of axes.
No mortal man or iron shield,
Could block his heavy blows.
And then a vulpine lady,
With hair like strands of ravens,
Slipped her pin so casually,
Into his beating heart.
*About man’s typical weakness, from ages past to the future, it will always be the same.
Oh I’m a dreamer,
Living in a world that ain’t there,
Or is that world here,
Well I don’t know.
Can’t you see her,
Standin’ right there.
With hair that’s rich as gold.
Hey she’s just a pace there,
With her face yeah,
Starin’ at the sun.
Why can’t you see her?
Why she’s just there,
I see her form so clear.
Maybe she’s fadin’,
It does look foggy,
But no she’s still right there.
Hey can’t you see her,
Why can’t you see her?
Why she’s standin just right there.
*Another lyrical attempt. I think it was about the confusion between the realms of the living and dead. Here, a pretty lady is standing beneath the sun, but only I can see her.
