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|09-30-2012, 03:39 PM||#101|
Join Date: Jan 2011
A poem from Greta's Diary in the novel, Beauty. For proper formatting, please use the Forum's Blue-X style. Thank you.
___________a sulfuric stench
__a steaming slurry of witless atrocity
________is gradually borne upon the wind
_______________like a moribund perfume
_____as if to say
__________yes my dear
__here I am
_____in spite of everything
_________________my dream awakens me
_______________dreams that sleep should be expected to spare
__ignore that tripe
__dredged up from some
_________I do suspect
____________that our lives leave us absolved
_____of living, and that our dreams lurch
_______misshapen, broken in the aftermath
____________one cannot be perfect
__on this imperfect world
___________it really is senseless to aspire
The first and greatest lie of every system of faith is that the Creator holds a scale of justice..
My novels (two here and a third on the way) - 740,000+ reads ( featuring God, Satan, and the Antichrist )
|10-02-2012, 01:08 AM||#102|
Guardian of the Snow
Join Date: Jan 2008
Clairice don't worry about 'having neglected this thread.' It has given me a place to express some items in poetry (such as they are).
I found this one in a book on the American Civil War - and given that our forces in Afghanistan lost the 2000th soldier recently, it seemed poignent enough to post...
Only One Killed by Julia L Keyes
Only one killed - in company B
'Twas a trifle loss - only one man.
A change of the bold and dashing Lee -
While merry enough it was to see,
- the enemy as he ran.
Only one killed on our side -
Once more in the field they turn.
Quietly now the horsemen ride -
And pause by the form of the one who died.
So bravely as now we learn,
Their grief for a comrade loved and true,
For a time was unconcealed;
They saw the bullet pierce him through;
That his pain was brief - ah! very few
Die thus on the battlefield.
The news had gone to his home, afar -
of the short and gallant fight,
Of the noble deeds of the young La Var,
Whose life went out as a falling star,
In the skirmish of that night.
"Only one killed, it was my son!"
The widowed mother cried.
She turned to clasp but the sinking one,
Who heard not the words of the victory won,
But of him who bravely died,
Ah! death to her was a sweet relief.
The bride of but a single year,
Oh! would she might, with her weight of grief,
Lie down in the dust, with the autum leaf,
Now trodden and brown and sere!
But no, she must beat through coming life,
Her burden of silent woe,
the aged mother and youthful wife,
Muyst live through a nation's bloody strife,
Sighing and waiting to go,
Whee the loved are meeting beyond the stars,
Are meeting no more to part,
They can smile once more through the crystal bars -
Where never more will the woe of wars,
O'ershadow the lovers heart.
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