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EthanReilly

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re: Poetry

I searched the forums for a thread about poetry, and turned out empty handed, so I'm deciding now to make a thread about it! Why you might ask? I found one of my long-lost poems, and it's one of the best poems I've ever written. Here it is and you are welcomed to share as well! big grin

Sunset & the Second Sun
Golden flaming embers of red and orange burn across the sky
Sweet intoxication in sensational lilac purples
Shining height lights pulse rivers of seering yellows
Universal center a glowing majestic white at core's subtle ending
Capitvating warmth of heat blazes omnifusion fever
Epilogue past days and prelude the night sky
Prologue ascension towards Heaven, reaching so high
A sphere peeled of craters slowly comes visible
Faintest sliver silvers reinvents atmospheric night
The orb exalted fosters energy of moonlight
We're forming the novel second sun tonight
Smeared and smudged brown-green templates
Slathers us nature's architectural design
Historical libraries ingrained deep into agrestal relics
Minimalistic prevalence, yet obscure galactic treasure
Stockpile a carbon-compounds opulent fortune
Integral internal imagination timely chars the tinder
Smelting organical ferocity gradually dissolves
Our second sun dazzles a mystical magic
Ashes of illusion and mystery swirl about
Ancient rituals carved from the blood of ancestors
Becomes a contemporary classic pastime
Roasting marshmallows, storytelling fairyland myths
'Til radiating off-color platinums divulges nerve-racking reality
Realize camouflage beneath the pseudo-disguise
While the second sun reaches maturity and seasons
Dwindling embers retain these developed memories
They leave an imprint of endearment on Earth
Warmth even envelopes upon ones solituded most
Black endings naturally submerge into the soil
Death itself departs for generations anew
The undertone of life never changes for any color it may take
Areku99

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re: Poetry

Here's one of mine I wrote a good while back:

Let me weep alone,
In solace I atone,
Past days of sin and vice
Lead me to the sleepless night,

Where the days last forever,
Sadly, I shall not ever,
Dwell within that hall,
For I know I shall fall,

The past haunts with vengeance,
And condemns one to repentance,
Who was it on that day
Who simply couldn't stay,

Within the forever world,
I guess fate just turned,
Broke the solemn quiet,
No more, is this world silent,

The world is now dying,
And I find myself crying,
I will be the loner,
I'll be the Atoner.


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Omega Reaven

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re: Poetry

Heres a bunch of minne they dont all go together though.


‎"Golden tears trace your lips as these stinging words enter your mind, all I can do is apologize as you plan my demise. I'm sorry for the hurt, the pain, and the in between but we aren't meant to be. Id love to see you smile by saying ill hold on for awhile, but a betrayal that would be for those feelings aren't in me. So slit my throat, poison my wine, because I truly deserve to die for catching your innocent eye."

"Blood, sweat, and tears roll down my stinging cheek. Memories of you course through my veins...unlocking my pain. Im trying to run and trying fly but its like ive been stuck deaf and blind. Screaming and searching but still ever hurting, wondering when this day will end...and preparing for it to renew again."

‎"The beat of the wood, the sound of the crowd. The slip of my sneakers, and the rhythm of the sound. Sweat down my face and fear in my mind this last shot frozen in time. Finally a swish to destroy the gloom and a roar of fans as the ball goes boom. My heart pounds as the seconds tick down and i finally answer the crowd. A scream of defiance makes my voice heard as i realize we got what we deserve."

"Its sad how ive fallen into this pit of darkness once again. Always traveling the dimly lit caverns of life and never bringing any gear. This time might be worse cause last time i had you to pull me out but now im lost without a lifeline. Next time ill bring a flashlight maybe ill last longer

‎"I let you lead and take me into this world of misgivings and false promises. A masquerade of love and hope kept alive by your endless needs. Now darling its plain to see it will never work out for you and me. So pleae oh please just damn leave me be."

‎"I sit here in a state of distress, forever unknowing a possible end.
Mindless rage invades, and I wonder when did this beast escape?
My lifeline. My hope. It was you....but you let it go"

"Bitter regret mixed with shames awful sweat. I see tears roll down your eyes as you miserably fantasize.
This burden, this weight, it was all a huge mistake. Finally with a stumble you fall, and now you've lost it all.
Shivering from ear to ear I pull you close, and hold you near.
"This can't go away I say, but know that's ok." "Darkness hides your light but sadness is not your solo fight."
"I will be your legs, arms, and mind, but the heart is ever true, by that I mean only you."
"I can not take the weight I can only be your brace, the helping hand towards your true fate"

‎"What if time passed me by? What if i idolized? Would there be a me and you? Baby please say its true! Hope and pain i never gain. Love and hate just stay the same. Believe in me, ill believe in you and well try to make it through."

"What to be? What to say? Is this truly me? I stumble and fall in this piercing light that reveals my fucked up mind. True nature of my misdeeds shrouded in this corrupted mystery. Yet I still withstand this unrelenting pain caused by never ending games. Tears stream from these crusty eyes as my smile hides what I truly despise. What is right? And what is sane? Should I remain the same? Always carrying this pain, letting it over-clock my brain. Or should I attempt to change and live in misery and shame. Neither a choice that appeals but isn't that how life is suppose to feel? Shouldn't despair fill my lungs, while I continue to breath in with care, till someone clears this retched air."


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Areku99

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re: Poetry

Something I wrote after Gai informed us of the Stanley Cup rioting which, if I am correct, is ongoing as I post this.

Animalia,
Inexplicable,
Fun things turned to whole lives gone,
Makes me want an iron rule

Innocence sadly lost,
Never fear to spill the blood
A grim battle so brutal, fought.
Take one faction, kill them good.

Could have well been ten times worse,
Even though I hate the aggressor
Lucky them I've only words,
Maybe before I get strong the bastards can learn.


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Areku99

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re: Poetry

What is a shield?
Worthless off the battlefield,
The field of the Earth,
Field of our birth.

Cancer consumption
Hellish presumption
Gavel falls before trial begins
Where needing that trial itself is a sin

Toil the land,
Timing the sand,
Making the clock work,
Making our souls hurt.

Psychotic labyrinth,
Sever and twist,
Examine the world
See the hellfire unfurled

Thoughts that scatter,
Words that matter,
Hate of the planet,
I don’t understand it.


Last edited by Areku99 on July 5, 2011 2:47 pm; edited 1 time in total


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Dread_walk

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re: Poetry

Haikus can be fun
But sometimes they make no sense
Refrigerator


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Areku99

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re: Poetry

I was watching the news, and looking at the sordid state of our country; fiscally and morally. Then I thought of our soldiers and their sacrifices. Then I wrote this.

FREELY GIVEN

The legions that stand
To save broken lands
That make it their cause
At such human cost.

Society in ruins,
An eagle’s pride bruised,
Decaying itself,
With off-balance wealth

Then comes forth the light
Of the land through the night
That sees not the cracks
In this once-perfect glass

They care not of the scars
Borne within our hearts
They see what we were
Perfect, secure.

A soldier’s sacrifice is freely given,
So that we may keep on living
But never have we deserved that less
Than now, as this unkempt mess.


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Nolan.Sumar

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re: Voyager's Tea Poem

I'm not much of a poet myself, but this is one I memorized when I was little. It came down from my boyscout master, who learned it from someone who apparently had known some actual people who had been voyagers: fur traders in the great lakes. Hence the name. I defined a few terms just in case.

From the faucets on the fountain to the bottles on the bar I've tried many fancy gargles[0], most as many as there are, but the drink that's first and foremost if you leave it up to me is a scalding can of swamp juice: ashes, soot, and tea.

On the takeoff of the portage[1] when a man is damp with toil, heat and dear flies are forgotten when the tea comes to the boil
And on the frozen winter muskeg[2] when the snow hath hid the trail, hope and strength and courage great him with the bubbling of the pail.

Propped with rocks beside the portage, jabbed into the forest mold, smoked and scorched 10,000 tea sticks[3] mark the campfires of the bold. Now other drinks may suit the townsman, due to flirt with now and then, but the silent places witness that tea's the drink that's drunk by men.

[0] Beverages.

[1] Portaging is when you carry a boat over land, usually to avoid a particularly dangerous piece of river.

[2] I actually didn't know the meaning of this word myself (I just memorized it) until I looked it up. According to Wikipedia it's a type of acidic boggy soil.

[3] the pot of tea would hang off of a stick so as to allow you to boil it over a fire.
Namluck

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re: Poetry

If I only knew,
How to write a damn haiku,
I'd write one for you.


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AstralProjection

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re: Poetry

Oooh, awesome thread. I have literally hundreds of poems, many from a book of poetry I self-published. I posted some samples when I first joined but I think the thread no longer existed.

Really great stuff here from everyone, I love reading what other people write. Keep it coming! : )

I'll try to pick some stuff out and post it here again. I won't go through everything because I might crash the forums, but I'll add stuff periodically.

Here's the most recent thing I wrote, in response to a friend's death.

_____________________________________________________________________________

Will You Watch The Sun
By Anthony C. Volpe

Will you watch the Sun rise tomorrow?
I’ll try to wake to watch it too,
I’ll try to find the strength and courage,
To watch it kiss our skies of blue,
Just one more time, tomorrow,
No matter what else I do,
I’ll watch it rise, tomorrow,
For the first time without you.

I could see the look within your eyes,
The same one echoed in my soul,
You were frightened, as was I,
For your next chapter to be told,
I cried, I begged, I pleaded you,
Not to leave me alone here in the cold,
And I’m sorry, I know you had no choice,
But to let everything unfold.

Will you watch the Sun rise tomorrow,
Wherever you may wake?
Will it be shady there, and peaceful,
Beside some lost, secluded lake?
Will you even remember me,
As your next voyage, you undertake?
I wonder, and I believe you will,
For this love I can’t forsake.

Our time together seemed so short,
It seemed to flutter quickly by,
Like pollen on the breeze of life,
Chased by dancing butterflies,
You drifted by, and I fell in love,
And you returned it in your eyes,
And it still was there, in both our hearts,
When you breathed your final sigh.

So please, watch the Sun tomorrow,
Watch it triumphantly ascend,
Wherever you may watch it from,
Wherever it is that journeys end,
I’ll paint you a picture,
I hope to someday your way send,
To far off places we always dreamed of,
Just around that river bend.

It seems you got there early,
And its not the same here without you,
I’ve spent so many hours crying now,
And still can’t believe it’s true,
Yet perhaps I’m being selfish,
For you’re somewhere beautiful and new,
And I’m sure when I catch up, someday,
I’ll have no trouble finding you.

Please my friend, just one more time,
Join me at the dawn,
That quiet stretch of morning that tells us,
When the night is finally gone,
It seemed to last so long today,
That I’ve prayed for it to end,
You see, my life is that much darker,
Without such a dear and perfect friend.

I’ll watch the Sun rise tomorrow,
And every day until it’s my turn,
When the boat arrives, at familiar shores,
To take me away to where I’ve yearned,
To depart, to join you there,
To, all the answers, finally learn,
I know you’ll watch it there, too, tomorrow,
That light that, never-ending, burns.


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AstralProjection

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re: Poetry

The Drums of War
By Anthony C. Volpe

Thunder in the distance,
And fires in the air,
Shadows creeping ever closer,
With fury hidden in their stares.

A deep and steady rumbling,
Now comes for them this day,
As the drums of war beat faster,
And they’re thrown into the fray.

Let begin the drums of war,
Let them shake the ground,
Let our enemies shake with it,
As they learn to fear this sound,

Let begin the drums of war,
Let the beat within be found,
Let that wild rage run free,
As a new king this eve is crowned.

The wars of men offer no choices-
As generals stoke their pride,
And nations fulfill ambitions,
It’s the soldiers who must die,

They’re never given voices,
As they pay the final toll,
‘Save that deep and steady rumbling,
That across the fields now rolls.

The heartbeat of the mighty,
Of the warriors now forgot,
Lends foundation to its rhythm,
And great power to a thought,
Or a cause, or a religion,
Or a belief for which we’d die,
Carried into battle upon
This tune that splits the sky.

A rustle beneath the treetops,
A sharpness to your breath,
Herald the great dance’s coming,
Where we dance for life and death,

A banner on the hilltops,
An evening without rest,
And the drums replace the heartbeats,
Where arrows have pierced a breast.

Let begin the drums of war,
That fashion battlefields from farms,
And carry us to their encampments,
Before the scouts raise the alarm.

Let begin the drums of war,
Let them strengthen this warrior’s arm,
While that rhythm beats inside our hearts,
We’ll never come to harm,

A blade within the darkness,
And a red field freshly dyed,
So far away from doorsteps,
Where the widows soon will cry,

A life amid the starkness,
Of a gray and bloodstained day,
A pulse that keeps us moving,
While our lips silently pray,

A furor seldom equaled,
In the thrill of this melee,
Shall bring crashing to their knees,
The fools who stand upon our way.

So let the drums of war ring out,
Across the lands where we now stride,
And in the caverns of our chests,
Let them echo deep inside,
Let them give us courage,
To protect this land where we reside,
As we meet fate with thunder in our hearts
And fire in our eyes.


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AstralProjection

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re: Poetry

Here's one of my all time favorites:
_________________________________________________-

Words
By Anthony C. Volpe

Words, beautiful words,
That fill the vastness of the mind,
That give us meaning,
Give us purpose,
Fatefully entwined
With the actions of our heroes
And the grace of the divine,
Leading us onward,
Ever faster,
Toward the peace we wish to find.

Words, beautiful words,
That move the masses like the seas,
That cut far deeper
Than coldest steel,
That shape our earnest pleas
In the blackness of the evening
As they’re whispered to the breeze,
Ringing out now
Through the countryside,
As we pray on bended knees.

Words, beautiful words,
Let their message travel clear,
Be not silenced,
Be not forgotten
When perfect idea first appears,
Forged in hidden furnaces,
Borne on the voices of our seers,
Outlasting wrongs,
Outlasting tyrants,
Breaking the bonds we’ve cast in fear.

Words, beautiful words,
Let them steal away your breath,
Remember those
Who had the courage
To let them fly on pain of death,
Who, before their final moments
The silence boldly cleft,
Knowing that words
can live forever,
When wielded by a speaker deft.

Words, beautiful words,
Even when used for cause uncouth,
You’ve crafted lies,
But crafted justice,
And you’ve clung fiercely the truth,
Wherever inspiration strikes
We find you fighting nail and tooth,
And I can see you
Twinkling brightly,
In the dreaming of our youth.

Words, beautiful words,
That can hold all that we have known,
Both the fury,
And the boundless hope,
Our experience has grown,
Words that lie unread rest quietly,
As seedlings wisely sewn,
To guide a child’s hand,
Ever gently,
Through skies already flown.

Words, beautiful words,
That can bring whole worlds crashing down,
Or build a new beginning
Carefully,
To tower far above the ground,
Be my tool now,
Be my weapon,
Be the sanctuary I have found,
And let this fresh tomorrow dawn
To freedom's booming sound.

Words, beautiful words,
That my heart has oft adored,
Cleave swiftly
Through deception,
My gleaming, righteous sword,
Flow nobly from my fountain pen
As from this poet’s heart you pour,
And promise with me
The revolution
That the future holds in store.


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AstralProjection

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re: Poetry

Here's one for anyone that's ever had to leave someone behind.
______________________________________________________________

I’ll Never Forget

I’ll never forget, I promised you, as I turned and walked away,
Not once, not one instant, shall those memories fade to gray.
The sun is setting softly now, but with hopeful eyes I pray
That in each of our tomorrows, its light will rain upon our ways.

I’ll never forget the way the wind would whisper in my ear,
When I’d stand atop the hillside on some distant evening clear.
Sweet nothings, and a dream or two, passersby would chance to hear,
For I’d return some days, smiling quietly, as year chased after year.

I’ll never forget, I vowed one night, and you must do the same.
I certainly left not for fortune, or for a fool’s envisaged fame.
Life just ebbs and flows my friend, in an endless cosmic game,
And I’ll come wand’ring back to you someday, as a moth unto a flame.

I’ll never forget the raindrops cascading down my face,
In summer nights departed, in that far off, perfect place.
I wander back to find them, by and by, and perhaps a little grace,
But my path always leads me back to you, with ever faster pace.

I’ll never forget the way a perfect tear formed in my eye,
While my feet did what my heart cannot, and turned away to fly,
But I promised you, I won’t forget, and you mustn’t wonder why,
Just look to the east, some far off morning, in some perfect, far off sky.

Just as tides and lives must ebb and flow, so too, my dear, must I,
Just as the wind forever blows, through the tops of mountains high,
Just as the world spins on endlessly, I’ll always feel compelled to try,
But I’ll always journey back to you, that flawless vision in my mind.


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AstralProjection

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re: Poetry

Here's another one, I used to write a lot of epic poetry, this was an attempt at mixing more modern (old west) themes with epic length and style.

_______________________________________________________________________

The Redeemer
By Anthony C. Volpe

The lights were dim, that Winter eve,
In the cottage where he took his rest,
The chance was slim, that he'd believe,
And that his heart would pass the test,

The candles flickered in the darkness,
Whispering names of companions lost,
The landscape waxed in its utter starkness,
As if inquiring to him, "At what cost?"

The lights were dim, some Winter eve,
And his resolve gradually waned,
But there would be other nights to grieve,
And other hands and souls freed of stain.

The past dripped over his drowsy eyes,
And transfigured memory into the moment,
And his world became a morass of mournful cries,
As he sought out some form of atonement.

He questioned why he must relive,
The doings of days long since gone by,
And questioned what else he had to give,
As crystal tears formed in bloodshot eyes,

Figures were cast upon a blanket of midnight,
Reenacting doings impossible to flee,
Silhouettes were painted by the moonlight,
Of the noose and the ancient, gnarled tree,

A shadow slumped over a saddle, high,
And another felled upon the ground,
Silently watching the end draw nigh,
As heartbeats slowly dwindled down.

He was only a child, in those days,
And perhaps that's why it all transpired,
And moonlit gold works in mysterious ways,
To mask consequences great and dire.

The mayor flashed his gilded remuneration,
And the glint stole his eye and heart away,
And though just a boy, filled with trepidation,
He agreed to hunt down those riders that dreary day-

A daughter lost, a friend betrayed,
And a bleeding golden crown,
A hangman's rope, and a debt to be repaid,
When their bodies tumbled down.

Not knowing his friend rode off that night,
With the mayor's beautiful young child,
He steeled his spirit for a vicious fight,
And set after the hooded outlaws in the wilds.

Believing that glory rode a stallion,
Fully armored for a war,
He rode off, a one-man battalion,
Ignorant of the evil that lay in store.

He arrived after long days and nights,
Spent riding his harried quarry down,
But there was only one thing set in his sights,
And it was neither legend, nor renown.

In the shadow of the hangman's hill,
The riders made their final stand,
In a test of reflex, and a test of will,
Witnessed by the silent, cold grassland.

Holsters emptied, barrels smoked,
Blood stained the pure, white snow,
Fires of passion, no longer stoked,
Extinguished with those fatal blows.

On that spot below the oak's boughs that day,
He pulled back the riders' hoods,
And after gazing upon the truth he prayed,
For he finally understood.

Kneeling below the hangman's noose,
In the frozen, pale moonlight,
A bitter cry of anguish loosed,
And a pair of ravens perched in sight.

There would be no glory beneath the sky's steely gray,
And no more fire in their eyes,
And no one but the ravens would hear the hunter pray,
Or hear his spirit slowly die.

There beside the tree that eve,
He dug two shallow graves,
And carved simply the words "Never Believe",
Into a sturdy oaken stave.

He drove the post into the ground,
As frozen tears ever downward traced,
And for a moment, nothing made a sound,
As he mounted up, and left that place.

He returned to the mayor, at a mournful pace,
Countenance stained by sorrow's touch,
With fury lurking beneath his harrowed face,
Fists turning white as snow as he clutched,

His pistol's grip, chambers emptied now,
All save that final shot,
But if that was all that fate would allow,
He swore to waste it not.

The mayor sat by a roaring fire,
A glass of brandy resting in his hand,
The hunter entered, heart consumed with ire,
With his gun at its command.

That final shot rang out through the dark,
Through the moonlight, and the snow,
Beyond the roamings of the meadowlark,
Ere the west wind sadly blows.

Slumped over in his bloodstained chair,
That vitriolic man breathed his last,
And the hunter claimed his gold, in the fire's glare,
For the completion of his task.

Off into the midnight horizon's grays and blacks,
He set, never to return,
To be forever tortured, forever wracked,
By grief and grim concern,

And as his memories cruelly revisited him,
His hand still clutched that purse,
And though now the gold seemed dull and dim,
Inside each piece still burned that curse,

He never had spent a single coin,
To remind himself of the terrible cost,
Of an action taken, when by greed enjoined,
And of a man's humanity now lost.

So there he sat, only somewhat aware,
Absorbed within his own doleful past,
Soul drug into the night, in the winter bared,
As a hatchet, in frost adorned iron cast.

The hunter's eyes then slowly shifted,
Caught by a different kind of gleam,
And in the candlelight his spirits gently lifted,
Despite how deep the darkness seemed.

Those tiny points of radiance, they grew,
And bled through shadows thick and dour,
And somewhere inside himself he knew,
His soul depended on the light that fateful hour.

His left hand still grasped his bounty gold,
Even as his other gripped a candle tight,
And his story, daily by guilt retold,
He now endeavored to set aright.

Stepping through his wooden door,
Into the darkness of the winter night,
He mounted his faithful steed once more,
And the creature's hooves took flight.

The hunter knew not where he rode,
In the black reaches of that mid-winter eve,
But the candle ever brightly glowed,
And his mount the darkness cleaved.

Following the light held in his hand,
The pair covered countless miles,
The flame danced, by the chill breeze fanned,
And the rider prayed in silence all the while.

When at last the candle's light went out,
They stood at a place he swore to ne'er again tread,
He stared at words once carved firm and devout,
Marking the place of rest of the familiar dead.

Beneath that same pale moon, amid that same land,
And by the same ancient, solemn oak,
He stepped down at his soul's certain demand,
In a different kind of moonshine soaked,

He cast the gold gained so long ago,
Upon the frozen ground where he stood that night,
And prayed for their souls and his own,
That they might find repose amid that endless white.

There is no winter longer, in all the tales of man,
Than a winter forever etched upon your soul,
But there is no power stronger, ever wielded in a hand,
Than the power to make right the days of old.

In the shadow of the hangman's hill,
The hunter took one final test,
A final contest of strength of will,
A last-ditch bid to finally rest.

It was neither steely resolve, nor nimble mind,
That would dispel his past's relentless wraiths,
It was a power of an entirely different kind,
The power of believing, of truest faith.

And all at once it burned inside him, strong,
For a vision suddenly caught his iron gaze,
Resting in his saddlebag, a rose, and a scripted song,
Recounting that mournful rider's days.

The authors of the tale, beyond all reason,
Were the couple below his feet, now gone,
Who had, ever since that night of treason,
Wished he might once more gaze upon the dawn.

And at the bottom of the parchment, in gold,
Was scribed only the word "Forgive",
And after seeing his story, so gracefully told,
He finally knew they wanted him to live.

And that was one thing he hadn't done,
Since the day he carved that stave,
And he upheld the rose, before the rising sun,
Then softly rested it upon their grave.

He ripped out that marking post, wrought in grief,
And placed a new one in its stead, that read,
"Rest in peace, Rest in your belief,
And honor those now dead".

As he climbed upon his horse's back once more,
And rode off into the warmth of a newborn dawn,
He thought of his days and nights, forevermore,
To be spent singing that woeful song.

Hangman's tree, into the horizon fade,
And come now, eternal hope's proud gleam,
And know now that this song hath been played,
That every soul can be redeemed.


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re: Poetry

I also write hip hop lyrics for musical projects with friends, and actually used to rap/freestyle a bit in my younger years..this is more in that vein. Before I started writing hip hop lyrics I wrote stream-of-consciousness slam poetry for a while. Here's one of my favorites I wrote in my head walking home from work, from Center City Philadelphia to South Philly. Maybe I'll share some of those old MP3's if I can find them, but there is bad language, that's why I never shared before : P
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But I Still Sang in Shadow
By Anthony C. Volpe

In the city rows,
Black obelisks stand far in the distance,
Towering above my existence,
In stoic, well mannered persistence,
It’s bliss then, that I’ve found,
Here in uniform lines
Carved from dusty ground,
With cacophonous sound,
Bells clang, joints creak all around,
Where I stand in sketched newspaper towns,
Left to sit on the street,
Faded in ancient sunlight’s heat,
Draped over the curb in mock defeat,
I bleat out lines
That dripped from yesterdays minds,
As temporal rivers wind
Through valleys carved by space
We left behind,
Undeveloped,
But still enveloped in the Shadow,
Row by row,
Buildings kissed with a dark flow,
Of nighttime hope,
Hidden from the merciless sun,
I’ve only just begun
To understand what makes this place one,
With the other worlds minds’ eyes have spun,
Unknown to show where lies come from,
But still I know things won’t be done
Quite like this again,
This manifesto I wrote on my back,
Each time the whip cracked,
I knew it’d mend,
Someday, Knew I’d send, someway,
A picture of this place to you,
Draped in blue that fell down from the sky,
Shaded true,
In Northern Lights like Neon signs
That just got flipped off,
Faded like firefly glows that turned soft
Against the night sky painted behind my loft,
In colors like fireworks we just shot off,
Screaming through the night,
Ascend like an angel,
Descend like a hawk,
Spend nights in danger,
Air thickens like smoky coughs,
An ever flowing river from God’s mouth,
Slowly winds south,
Through these painted wall waterfalls that I find out,
Dripped down from the sky
Like chandeliers with crystal balls,
Holding visions of future and the past,
Fashioned to last,
With imagery tied tight to minds to hold fast,
Unlike these unkempt dwellings hung at half mast,
With lights in the windows coming from eyes,
Hovered over soft sighs,
Whispered into the silken shadow,
As we’ve oft cried,
And tried, and prayed
For a new day
That might come,
After the rusty afternoon charred
Beneath crimson suns scarred
With sunspots these fields of bricks,
That hold up the prison bars,
We can’t see from tricks used to conceal,
The ways to escape and heal,
From the wounds left by perpendicular blackness,
That attacked this position I stood upon,
But I still sang, graceful like a swan song,
Long into the night as I walked on,
Lips silent, while my spirit talked on,
I still sang.


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