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[birdy51]

Deathless dreams die hard.
Mountains impossible to cross.
Become a mole-hill.

[Urist Mc Dwarf]

 A sacred note
Rings clear and pure
In a sacred place

A friend, a father, a healing prayer

Prompt: Fear

[TD1]

Fear:

Crippled, darkness
Panting
The hand, that reaches...
Closing
On the foot, my head
Hurts
Please, please, please
Why not...
Why stay? Please
Cold sweat. Breath.
Shivering limbs
Eyes darting in the
Ever enchroaching dark!

Why me, why me, why me?
I am forsaken, lost, abandoned
Nothing but dust! WHY ME?
Who am always last; yet
The feel of numbness comes,
So much a death-knell that I close
Cold, clammy hands about my ears.
Leave me! Hot, hot, press of tears
Lets me know the futility
As I fade, broken,
Into eternity.
I fear.

Hallowed:
All hallowed be, the mountains to the west
The Dryad of the wood, the stayer of the hand
Great bringer of the bounteous feast, that blest
A newer lease to life and living land.
The oak that spreads its green-touched boughs
Holds ever-blooming high the ancient creed -
We all in nature must prostrate and bow,
Aye even as the supple ever bending reed.
For river runs, the songbird sings refrain
Gently, the hallowed halls of nature claim
All of man's folly, to make right the stain,
Make whole the broken, trodden and the lame.
For we as man profane the temple, strip its wealth
But healthy, hallowed, it returns with stealth.

For tomorrow: Chained to a clock.

Thanks for the prompt! Two very different poems, that's good - practice! 

[birdy51]

Fear

Biting compression,
My mind, my heart, unravel,
I am but nothing.

Hallowed

Church bells in the yard,
Ring the requiem for me,
My soul, I give thee.

[birdy51]

Tick tock, goes the clock.
Ring ring, my heart starts to sing.
I, small bird, absurd.

Throwing a theme at the wall. Prompt... Politics!

[TD1]

((Arg! You wound me! Not politics... Nooooooo. ))


Tick, tick the clock sings
Toppling the highest of kings.
"Sleep now" its chime rings.

Or

All fettered to the earthly tide
Of silver, gleam and moon -
Oh come ye lost, confused and hurt!
There lies more sacred here a tune
Of time when mistletoe could pierce
A heart.

Oh Baldur fair-of-face, of Spring
Was named most beautiful of lords -
A joke! The chains of time were held
And at his fairest throat, they were a sword
To cut away the life blood. The bell of doom
Has knelled.

Now comes the winter of the age,
Our faces weep in time, but none
Can care, for times have swept
And we have wept before. No fun
Is had in tomb or hall, but death
Is kept.

This is the tune that we must sing -
It holds no merriment, but it is truth.
By horn and hare, the Valkyries and
Valhalla's far flung mystic roof
We'll sing no other, though our bones may turn
To sand.

Politics:

When men are thought to speak the truth,
Beware.

Look to the past, and see their motive

Live the present for their words

Keep note of every shifting eye,

Reveal no thoughts that they may hear

Let loose no rabble-rousing yell for them

They may be false while ringing true.

But most of all remember
When men are thought to speak the truth,
Beware.

For tomorrow: The Vikings

[birdy51]

((This is what happens when the prompts stop. ^.^))

Lizards wearing suits,
Planning the affairs world-wide,
Secretly, they plan.

[Tomasque]

 Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I hope the prompt isn't too old.

 Fear
You wait in the musty mists of that dark alleyway.  13
Plead with all your breath,  5
 smell the scent of death  5
but the good and twisted gods ignore you as you pray.  13

The mossy cobbles hide the sound of coming feet,  12
 he is here he is here  6
but you can feel him near.  6
He comes in from behind you; Nowhere to retreat.  12

He taps you softly on your shivering back,  11
and gives you a brittle smile:  7
"I've waited for this a while."  7
 no one can ever escape the man in black...  11

You say, "I need more time before I go!"  10
His reply is a wider grin,  8
 ...nor pact with that cheshire of sin  8
and as it grows, you know the answer's 'no.'  10

Your lips quiver, his lips quiver back.  9
Then, stitches rip as smile tears the skin;  9
Old scars open up to let you in.  9
 all who live know: fear the man in black  9

[TD1]

Johnny Cash would be insulted!

I think that one was good, just a small problem I had - the first and last lines of the first stanza. The first line may intentionally be Trochaic, in which case that's fine, but the last one doesn't flow - maybe "Both good and twisted gods alike ignore you as you pray" or something?

[Tomasque]

Johnny Cash would be insulted!

I think that one was good, just a small problem I had - the first and last lines of the first stanza. The first line may intentionally be Trochaic, in which case that's fine, but the last one doesn't flow - maybe "Both good and twisted gods alike ignore you as you pray" or something?

Thank you for the compliment, and the correction. That line was bothering me, too!

[TD1]

We come over the heaving seas
See now our shields, and hear our cries?
Our blades that hacked man's cities
Have no respect for he who dies.
The gold we claim has life-blood's stain,
Our homes are far away.
We are barbarians, there is no doubt
Unfit to walk in light of day.
Hear we who raise that Viking shout?
We come from far away
To loot your cities of their wealth
And claim your bodies for the clay.

Then we go home, and raise our barns
Take out our tools, give kisses to our loves
And keep the cattle on our farms.

For tomorrow: Food

[Urist Mc Dwarf]

 I look
I search
I starve
I see a meal
In a diner
With valets
And maître d's
I see it
Thrown away
Half eaten
I pounce, and feed
On what others throw away
But it is food
And I will live another day

Another Prompt: You favorite smell

[TD1]

Food:

Why seek we so to glut our souls
On apples, oranges and pears
On grains and meats and sweets
On fierce-eyed buffalo, running hares?
Why harbour enmity towards the small
The weak and helpless which we herd?
Christ, I have been a farmer and cared
For many a calf until I placed its neck
Upon the carving-block.
Doubtless it made a wondrous snack.

I have killed so I may live, and I have
Eaten of flesh and liked the taste.
Were I more of a man, I'd say
"No more of this, all life is held as waste
When set upon the table."
But I have no will in me to do so,
And so beside the orange and the pear
I eat the buffalo, catch the hare.
Where ends their blood and starts my own?
I know not, and how to clean them is unknown.

Favourite smell:

Smell them in the hedges
Where wheels the tumbled briar
The cottagers and villagers
Love to smell them too
Honeysuckle suckled upon
Morning and midnight's dew.
Many a walk down country lane
Has held that smell and been,
More than mere stretch of journey
But a hall of incense for a King.
See them within the hedge,
The winding briar's friend.
I walk these ways so I may look
Where Lords and Kingdoms end -
Here reigns supreme, as in a dream
The scent of summer strained for me.

For tomorrow: An angry person.

[TD1]

There is something red
About the pain,
Something that starts
To work within the head
Then reaches outward
To consume the soul
Nothing salvaged,
Dark as coal.

There is something red
In anger, something dead
In it, something hated
And detested, yet disturbingly
Refreshing.
---

Apologies for lack of quality. I've got a really annoying headache.

For tomorrow: Mental Illness.

[birdy51]

Forsake fiery tongues,
That which burns the human soul,
Anger is no friend.