I heard of lands both far and near
where wealth beyond tale can conceive.
With rivers deep and mountains sheer
for the brave to challenge and reave.
I heard of them and I believe
this call that moves me to explore.
I should follow my heart and weave
the path where none has gone before.
Through legends spread by foe and peer,
my head and heart do wish me leave
the comforts of my home so dear
to seek the thrills that I perceive.
The first to achieve and retrieve
power and fame I can’t ignore,
the tug on the conqueror’s sleeve,
the path where none has gone before.
I’m confident in what I hear,
stand ready with sword, shield, and greave.
No time for mortal dread nor tear.
No time to cause angst or aggrieve
the loss of friend or kin bereave.
I sail to explore a new shore
and swear on death I will not leave
the path where none has gone before.
I seek your audience and ear
to beg, my dear Prince; I implore
your blessing, funds, and ships to steer
the path where none has gone before.
Comes a time when to strike or to feint
and let go the cudgel but know not which.
All that I know from my own complaint
is that life can be a bastard sonofabit*h
Comes a time when strength is not to fight
and forgiveness not for saints and martyrs,
when soil grown sour and the vine in blight
reap the fruit of the sins of the fathers.
Let go the past, it will not save you,
live and forget when all steadfastness is done.
It is a far far better thing we do
when all is right between Father and Son.
Comes a time when our conceit is to wait
with much to deem but nothing to say,
but it’s always too soon before it’s too late
when all that is given us is taken away.
Comes a time to forgive, not aggrieve
lest all that remains is a bitter chide,
but truly he that gives will richly receive
and he that stumbles suffer his pride.
Let go the past, it will not free you,
live and forget when all steadfastness is done.
It is a far far better thing we do
when all is right between Father and Son.
Written: October 2007
We supplicate her when we mourn
She is the rose and we the thorn
to those who sorrowfully grieve
alone, bewildered and forlorn
She offers sinners a reprieve
and comforts sad hearts that aggrieve
Lifts us up when we're feeling down
In her we must deeply believe
She can remove a worried frown
Rescue us when we start to drown
Grant us the courage to endure
A saving grace without a crown
Humbly, do we pray to ensure
our faith is virtuous and pure
This Christian virtue we should seek
For hope we pray. God, we adjure
He blesses the modest and meek
who are weary, fragile and weak
But with hope as a dividend
our lives will no longer look bleak
On our Lord's love we can depend
Hope He provides as a godsend
to ease fears and anxieties
God is our Father and our Friend
With irascible words, she continues to bemoan
Writing about poets with whom she picks a bone
Chastising those who like to compete in contests
She's infected with hate, like a pustulant abscess
Her bitter sarcasm abounds for quite a few poets
Shaming their competitiveness, then she blows it
She adds POTD beside her poem title when chosen
but her attitude is not what I would call ambrosian
Her "truth" is not what all of us choose to believe
It's so sad that she tries to offend us and aggrieve
She doth protest too much, and it's unbecoming
She's muddying the site with so much chumming
Many of us write what lies deep within our hearts
But we're not what she calls arrogant or up-starts.
We don't need our wrists slapped, like she has said
Leeches try to draw blood. We don't need to be bled.
Sheeple
Written: by Tom Wright
10-27-2019
Social media has made bullies,
of many good people.
Some hide behind this curtain,
until they become sheeple.
Comments are often made,
that wouldn’t be said to your face.
Things that are untrue,
in an attempt to debase.
This causes distrust,
we don’t know what to believe.
Too many things seem fake,
by those who aggrieve.
Those partaking are cowards,
hiding behind a curtain.
“what goes around, comes around,”
an idiom that’s certain.
A tune echoes from a room.
Makes me think of them and I.
Absence, my aggrieve.
A tune plays from a room.
Makes me think of him and I.
Absence, my yearning is against.
A tune heard from a room.
Makes me think of me.
Absence of my happiness.
Venetians masqueraded themselves to hide their identity;
their vagueness was allowed openly,
"Be a Casanova, a Shakespeare, a Hamlet :
all are welcome to join the banquet!"
" Keep your masks on, or you'll be asked to leave;
it's the Dodge's order: you must comply to enter!"
the doorman solemny speaks scratching his fussy hair;
he hears a mocking laughter to make his mood aggrieve.
"Dames can freely talk to their admirers,
whispers are allowed as long as they are sexually discreet;
they will charm you with their words...
while the Venetian's fogy moon adds splendor and conceal much deceit!"
"Must I remind all to keep your incognito for a stupendous carnival night;
walk on semidark bridges, follow moonbeams as if they were jewels!"
And the austere doorman continues becoming lenient to strict rules,
"Leave nothing to the imagination,be anything you desire: it's your right"
Howl of fierce storm in despair solitude
Hark against fear, joy aggrieve attitude,
Worst for hope that strikes deep wound left unkind
Was a treacherous path, roots branched unbind.
Pain surest agony, death air sung end
Passion of glory in mind thath not send.
Strike with sword, capturing unseen shadows.
Shots! Untamed anger amidst still meadows.
Fast as lightning flash, struck on poor unloved
Fist and grind twined, regrets fury beloved.
Accord ignored to punish soul in hell,
Alone wept warrior, quest raged, bade farewell.
Alas, gone is moment! Memory lost:
Blood glowed willow Valle', lament inflict host.
Videogames all about crime or war,
Quite often are full of blood, guts and gore,
And people are worried that you may find,
That violent games can alter the mind,
Moulding our children, so young and naive,
Into creatures intent to abuse and aggrieve,
But in today’s world there’s worse violence and fights,
Than those contained within bits and in bytes,
No one is harmed in digital wars,
There’s no loss of life in the Cyber Corps,
And if you’d spend an hour of your time,
Researching cases of Nintendo fuelled crime,
You’d have to admit there are far more reports,
Of people injured whilst playing Wii Sports!
Gilded streams tapestry weave
Frothy dew doth pageant aggrieve
Brimming bough wrapped in embroidered sleeve
Withering grass to the denuded soil doth cleave
Translucent sickles glimmer on each availing eve
Bristling ice pelets bleary-eyed cisterns do heave
Mercurial splendor doth summer's monotony relieve
Chilled masses do body's warm circulation deceive
No sooner is man's name penned
On life's great sandy shore;
Until waves of life come pounding
And it exists no more.
It's washed back to which it came
To eternal aggrieve or rest.
Make the steps you're taking count
Each day give God your best.
I suppose for me,
Love, was never to be.
I have prayed to believe!
Each time, leaving me to aggrieve.
Left to love only me,
My aching heart to bleed.
Some days, when I awake,
Upward I drag, for other’s sake.
Each dreary day, but a remake,
Creating the same, dreary heartbreak.
A make believe love, my mind will bake,
By day’s end, to realize it is all just a fake.
One night, when I’m drunk,
I will work up the *****,
Placing my gun to my head, like a punk.
Until then, I’ll go through the motions,
Applying dye and anti-aging potions.
I’ll smile, and say, Have a great day!
I’m doing great!, to them I lie and relay.
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