Poetry Forum

Serenity Wintirs - all messages by user

9/8/2011 3:41:46 AM
Sanity	Escapes the mighty and the meek A single bough that’s bent to break And from the leaves the colors leak As frost moves in and phantoms speak Wisdoms sealed on yellowed pages Like stories told through out the ages Chipped like paint on window panes But perhaps pretend some truth remains Concealed and lost cliché aggressions Poised on the eve of pale September Steal away the dawn’s possessions Unveiled mysteries we won’t remember Gravity too soon defied Roots that lightning ripped away Forces that won’t be denied Have the power then to stay Playing wanton now at last As colors fade and seep The summer dissipates too fast But wakes fallen idols from their sleep And as those very colors die Cold makes a promise not to stay But beneath the shelter of the sky Their glory is washed away edited by Serenity Wintirs on 9/8/2011
9/8/2011 3:46:19 AM
quest for a classic	If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too: If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream---and not make dreams your master; If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim, If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same:. If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools; If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings, And never breathe a word about your loss: If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much: If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!
9/10/2011 4:23:55 AM
Love Is	platonic allegiance and virtual dementia crowd this room as life is washed away the agony is sweeter than coagulate decay burning sound and blinding noise fight the need to scream or give in and live the dream bloody towers, faltered steps to act out a purposed overthrow capacity for agony is quick to come and go while branding iron alone brings tears and moans of pure despair sit cold and silent on his lips a deadly, dreadful prayer in a room of rending, unending night on a bed of rope and steel amidst feverish dreams, cacophonies there is pain still left to feel the watchful, apathetic eyes stay vigilant from the start for agonies with no reprieve to a barely beating heart silence not so momentary when all is said and done depleted strength to fight the bullet hiding in his gun edited by Serenity Wintirs on 9/10/2011
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