Best Wert Poems
All Hallows' Eve Black Mass Incantation
We Pray in The Name of Our Father Lucifer,
Which wert in Heaven:
Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
October 5, 2014 (Narrative Incantation)
Ride, ride, ride thou figure from the East
In thy curse hath many a mother wept
On thy brow the furrows of distant steppes
Yield unto a steely mask of doom
Destruction follows in thy path and yet
Methinks I spy a flicker of regret
Extinguish it lest humanity engulf it betimes
As distant lands fall under your encompassing sway.
A fire burns, a coward trembles in his tent
What's won is rent from hands too numb to feel
The surging, coursing power of thy grip
Let slip thine enemies, let thy repute
Incite counsel of war then savor the fruit
Of a thousand-footed gathering of days
The purpled way, the jewel-encrusted chalice
Of wine claret. Drink to your heart's content.
If I were thou and thou wert I my friend
I should not pause to see the ground below
For lonely be the lofty heights, perpend:
Far art faren, far remains to go
Nor bride, nor bairn, nor comfort in repose
Hath sped thee on thy way from whence we ride
The rudest nutriments, the barest clothes
Sans bed, sans friend, sans tout, bare ground thou lie'.
Now polished steel glistens, mirrors gray
The slanting dome of sky's inverted bowl
Oiled leather on black courser's velvet skin
And restless hooves an inch in sodden loam
A leathern mask, five halberds thus skyward
Stand, barren hillock's strange reeds
Sprouting in the wind-swept smoke
Of morning's hasty decampment. Thus proceed
These men unto a destiny untold.
Of Indus, Asia, Europe, northern climes
Of snow, of sand and vine, the watery strand
I sing. Dismount and pluck the crocus sweet
But brief, then crush beneath thy heel. Spur on!
Ghengis Khan!
Of Afrique dark and thrice-looted Rome
Thy story-tellers may rhyme and make song.
Home, home rider from the East return
Scorch the earth and burn to cindered ash
Laugh with all the mirth thy new-found freedom
Might yield unto thy solitary path
Unlearn the lessons civil, richness hath
Bone and marrow, thew and sinew softened
Thy courser turn the sod, horizon calls
Spur on! Sing thy song, thy name live on
Ghengis Khan
“The Dream”
there were dreams
some lived them
others dreamt them
silently lying in their
grave chairs waiting
patiently for the
Angel to call
there were dreams
beautiful dreams
others took delight
in smashing their shine
to ash, treading on them
like they were just ...
dreams
there were dreams
that the warriors
took up again
and planted
firmly in the middle
of reality, theirs,
were the dreams
that breathed
and lived again
theirs were the dreams
that grabbed the poetry
ran with it in diverse directions
in all that others could not see
these were the ones
who saw the truth in dreams
and lived a life of love
doused in passion living
honest victory
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.
Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
In the golden lightning
Of the sunken sun,
O'er which clouds are bright'ning,
Thou dost float and run;
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun..."
Roca Vecchia, Puglia, Italy
Grotta della Poesia, "The Cave of Poetry", Puglia, Italy
Tis torture and not mercy. Heaven is here!
Painfully in reach and yet no power is apt to attain thee.
What shall then quell passions pursuit?
Oh heart that yearns for thee alas, such arduous love aroused.
Thou oh love alone, can satisfy mine soul’s longing.
Mine heart's own song could not yet free itself from the depths of mine desire for thee.
Every hope is but vain indeed.
I muse at thy enchantments and with bated breath whisper thy name.
Tis torture true not to hold thee,or caress thy tender cheek with withered hand
False hearted thou wert and yet still thou whispered promised pleasure’s untrue
In silence and tears mine days spent with the bitter-sweet taste of heaven on mine lips
and arms that shall never forget.
Tis torture and not mercy, Heaven was here!
written by Lori McClure
Nothing can substitute death
for it is the final destination
and ere you last breath
crystal clear all your abberation.
Rest forever or birth to numb dizziness
at you part, you leave all harms and assaults
people most theist, called quick as bless
is perfused, to save them from life's thunderbolts
Long life of people swing as tombs
where none pay heed to temple and churches
who will pay heed to these pale living glooms
these clowns in whose core only money perches.
Flirt and dirt only thing hatching in heart
and society dwindles with values and morals
each thing lost as perfect human you never wert
lacking basic emphaty but adorned with quarrels.
AKASH SANGWAN
The sun in splendid majesty departs
To drape his train across the evening sky,
Mere candlelight next to the vivid spark
Struck from one glance from thy once azure eyes.
Both man and nature music doth compose
On instrument of orchestra and trees,
But all of heavens hymns I might transpose
And never match was tender speech from thee.
Such beauteous things to worship and to love
Once lived about the temple of thy grace,
Thy body was the substance of my dreams
Where'er thou wert was made a lovely place
So once a garden in a garden stood
Til time and season stole its bright lifeblood..
Love's Compass Rose
( Valentine Poem 2018)
From the East we set out,
Gathering steam;
A rising sun ignites
The birth of the dream,
Celestial fire lights
The path of youthful love,
Finding its way upon
The blinding heights
Of Spring's unbounded passions.
Heedless we, by days and nights
Of Destiny or Destination.
Then moved by Nature's own determination,
To the South we turned
Our yet-young steps,
Down to where the long Summer burned,
Bloomed, and its tendrils crept
Alongside all the way,
Sometimes caught
Sometimes slowed our tread -
Yet still we strode, all down the day
Arm weaved in arm
We held each other sway
Until the Summer gave us all Her best.
Then we turned us to the West;
Where now we wend our careful way
Through the land of gold and red
Where the taste of cold hangs in the day
And what is said and left unsaid
Colors all the cooling air
Drawing us nearer, step by step
To the silent North
As it paints the frostlines in our hair.
Now I would not wish to be a boy again;
Thou art now to me more passing fair
Then thou wert to me before, and so...
In the end it's to the North we go,
Up high above, to the silent land
Where the diamonds of the sky shine true
Where together we shall stop and stand
Thee with me, I with you
Reviewing all the good things we've done,
Then call it good, as the night comes down
To wrap us in its starry arms.
In this ending we have won
The rewards of patient labor.
The Winter of the North will welcome us at last
As the present is the only child of the past
So goes the Circle, 'round and 'round.
We go around Love's Compass Rose,
With some things lost, others found,
Wondering at the things we chose
To keep or cast aside.
When it's done, the time spent
If it was well done, there may be more,
There may be more betide;
We may be given to go 'round again,
To meet my Joy, my Wife, my Pride -
Somewhere South of Seventeen.
Some people say
almost every day,
That love is a treat,
but thou art a cheat;
You love me not
they swear with God.
One even pinched his nose
but still, I say thou art my rose;
But if thou prove’st me wrong,
after I wrote in my summer song
That thou art the only one
who doth bring me joy and fun
And attest to me thou wert satire,
sorrowfully from love I will retire.
1
O, e’er she cometh and calleth me from the barren wolds whereupon lieth the first palpitation of the laconic exchange of bashful glances;
O, whensoe’er thy dulcet voice wafteth o’er the hummock, and thy throat trilleth for none but me, mine eccentric euphoria is celebrated by nature;
O, in the untrodden tryst wouldst thou palliate the passion of mine? I pray you, do love me, fair damsel, only because I really love thee.
2
Prithee, my ladie, my beautie, tell me wouldst thou fain love me? Knowest thou I am fain to gain thee, and hope I thou art so. Once hither thou camest and didst canoodle me, wert thou fearless and didst enrapture me. Thou , undaunted, snuggle’dst, kiss’dst , embrace’dst a swain. E’er thou wast fain to have me lain on the lovers’ crimson bed. And when dost thou bestow upon me the ancient ecstasy, and sleek is the cheek of my kingly belle, feel I relieved i’th’ glaring tryst, my sweet love !
I loved that day which blest its night
With antediluvian might,
Of ours flourishing souls in joy
That some divine being must deploy.
It was a lithe nocturnal wood,
‘Midst whose darkening core there stood
A tiny cottage, ancient as the Moon.
Whence we then heard the leaves to croon.
Lagoon! a lustrous lagoon saw we!
Beside the trees, serried in glee,
And our small home– its lovely limit
Never saw this oneness split.
‘Twas morning then, but now the murk
Embraced two lovely hearts, and hark !
The crickets, ever hidden did hurl
Their doleful screech from many a knurl.
Above a couple at peace in a nest
Did murmur private words , as if lest
None could overhear their sound,
None could intrude their world from ‘round.
Then thou closer, closer wert,
I dwelt, exulted, on thy sinless heart.
And our gay mutters were no louder
Than theirs who loved the voice of amour.
A luscious smile as thou didst pour
On night’s abundant beauty store,
Perhaps He lavished for lovers’ sake
Another world that we could make.
Fake! ‘Twas fake for it wouldn’t last,
As that unseen joy glided fast
Towards a sunny dullness again;
No mystic love there did we regain !
Wow another year has come and gone
What a year it has been
So many things we wouldn’t change,
yet so many we would
As the new year approaches we all will set goals for ourselves
and our family’s too
As we do this let us remember the true meaning of Christmas
Let us not forget that if it wert for Our Lord Jesus Christ we wouldn’t be blest with the many
things we have today
So with this let us celebrate the ultimate birth, the birth of Gods sun
Let us all decorate with bright vibrant coolers, sing his praises and give of ourselves in his
honor
Let us all stop, be still and think of those not with there family’s this year
Let us open or hearts to those less fortunate than us
Let us all say a prayer for our neighbors, family, and friends for there safety in the coming
year
As we go forth in the following year let us all carry Gods love and pass it around to each and
every one we meet
"Tripping the Light Fantastic"
Dance?
She said,
romancing
the lost agenda
You’re so
left
sold
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.”
sold
soled
souled
O’ why wert thou so beautiful,
But not a love so true?
Thus now doth reign the darkness
From mere the thought of you!
Why hath love brought this madness,
A death without thy kiss?
For thy touch I’ve linger onward,
As yearn I do for this!
Thou have given love unto me,
Then taken love away;
Thus I now must weather long
A storm of grave dismay!
O’ why wert thou so beautiful,
Heaven unto mine eye?
But now thy heart hath darkened,
As yet I know not why!
O’ why wert thou once so kindly,
As yet the memory teems?
Thou wert an angel, nay, a goddess,
That occupied my dreams!
O’ thou art painfully still so beautiful,
Yet I wish thee near,
But now thy words have hardened,
A curse upon mine ear!
Ancient Greek and Roman Epigrams I
Wall, we're astonished that you haven't collapsed,
since you're holding up verses so prolapsed!
Ancient Roman graffiti, translation by Michael R. Burch
You begrudge men your virginity?
Why? To what purpose?
You will find no one to embrace you in the grave.
The joys of love are for the living.
But in Acheron, dear virgin,
we shall all lie dust and ashes.
—Asclepiades of Samos, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Let me live with joy today, since tomorrow is unforeseeable.
?Michael R Burch, after Palladas of Alexandria
Now his voice is prisoned in the silent pathways of the night:
his owner’s faithful Maltese...
but will he still bark again, on sight?
?Michael R Burch, after Tymnes
Poor partridge, poor partridge, lately migrated from the rocks;
our cat bit off your unlucky head; my offended heart still balks!
I put you back together again and buried you, so unsightly!
May the dark earth cover you heavily: heavily, not lightly...
so she shan’t get at you again!
?Michael R Burch, after Agathias
Hunter partridge,
we no longer hear your echoing cry
along the forest's dappled feeding ground
where, in times gone by,
you would decoy speckled kinsfolk to their doom,
luring them on,
for now you too have gone
down the dark path to Acheron.
?Michael R Burch, after Simmias
Wert thou, O Artemis,
overbusy with thy beast-slaying hounds
when the Beast embraced me?
?Michael R Burch, after Diodorus of Sardis
Dead as you are, though you lie as
still as cold stone, huntress Lycas,
my great Thessalonian hound,
the wild beasts still fear your white bones;
craggy Pelion remembers your valor,
splendid Ossa, the way you would bound
and bay at the moon for its whiteness
as below we heard valleys resound.
And how brightly with joy you would leap and run
the strange lonely peaks of high Cithaeron!
?Michael R Burch, after Simonides
Keywords/Tags: ancient, Greek, epigram, epigrams, epitaph, epitaphs, translations, elegy, elegies, eulogy, eulogies, death, grave, funeral, lament, mourning, loss, pain, bereavement
Not long I need to let mine heart to shrink
From thine earnest appeal wherein did sink
And firm beneath its heav’nly charm it live
With glorious joyance thence loth to upheave.
So gently thou this time me importune
That any keener soul of love must croon,
But see how alters brisk one’s erstwhile dearest
And heedeth not entreaties that thou makest.
Mayst thou complain I furnish this with art
Of garrulity to reproach, than thou wert,
Thee for thy ways capricious unto me,
As my sweet fury ne’er can I show thee.
Yet cautious I whisper to realms inmost,
Retrieve the passions though alone we boast.