Hard-chromed and brutally alloyed
he fed the scrapyard hurricane.
Melting the metal, his brawn enjoyed
the splash of sweat cooling the pain.
The weight of the world discarded
at the foot of his furnace lit,
he struggled to make soon parted
its history, hard and fast writ …
… in twisted iron and mangled steel.
Stoking the fire, hellishly hot,
a cauldron of memories once real,
he freed the souls of things forgot.
Unthicked by his lethean flame,
smelted loose of its heavy years,
the once gritty metal flowed tame,
shiny new without smiles or tears.
Categories:
lethean, extended metaphor, loss, power,
Form: Quatrain
By: rontwigger
Never make believe that you do not see
That monstrous elephant in the room.
So you would be cleared in your doom,
Spread the sick beans of someone you'd never be.
Fuel not the system of, for and by the few
For you know it triggers so much pangs,
Pangs that are the offshoots of their angst
Would never ever be in your court I knew.
Keep calm in your fight against the enormous one
To be the epic victor of the world's history.
By not embracing the attitude of mercury,
You've subdued your foolish fears 'til the end's done.
Now, it's high time to take the elephant out.
In Hades where Lethean waters abound.
And have him drink until oblivion is found
While garbing his ivory tusk and trunked snout.
Categories:
lethean, symbolism,
Form: Rhyme
WHEN and WHERE
by: rontwigger
Oh, tell me where and when
We may see each other again.
The time sashayed fast
Amidst the universe so vast.
At the disco party when you were fourteen
While I was your beau at seventeen
Three years a gap would never deny
That my love would never fly to distant sky.
Too long I have waited for this moment
Now your age has almost trippled and went
Too long I have longed for you my star
Not a sign of old age nor a visage of war.
Come and let's commune forevermore
And drink some Lethean water to abhor
The past that dragged us down to the pit
And take a vow that history will never repeat.
Categories:
lethean, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme
The bottles of gin are all empty,
The pipes have long since been lit:
Where is the Lethean water that can truly make me forget?
Where is the perfect opiate that can stem the tide of regret?
You were the colour in autumn,
You were the light in the lamp-
Your caravan moves on without me, taking the goods from the camp.
Now I am left here, forgotten: a gypsy, a wretch, a tramp.
Categories:
lethean, loss,
Form: Elegy