Long Wains Poems
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* Paid my heed my friends for the frost giants begin their march southwards,
* and their hounds of winter ,shall Slather and bay awaiting direction from their masters
* as then ,
* they fall upon us .
* Even the sun wains back at the feel and shadow of their March.
* Our brothers the oaks stand true ,
* as these giants now put breath upon them.
* And so it is ,
* the sacred grove now sent to slumber,
* until the giants and their hounds, call for retreat.
* The longest night approaches and no advance can be made in our labours,
* For the ground is now of stone and freezing fire ice .
* We shield their attack with fur cloaks , glowing hearths and summers blessed mead .
* Our friends, family and forgiven foes gather and give thanks to the old year and for its bounty.
* Calls for the sun to return and warmth for the soil ,
* echo amongst all present .
* In the coming born year may our land , wives , and beasts be fruitful.
* Now darkness is abound,
* but for this bastion of kindred folk , the hounds of winter now tearing at the door , scream their howling and send their cold and shrills, about this protected steading .
* Grandfather places his knowing hand upon a beam "The carved runes in this lintel shall keep the frost wolves from our door, since ages past, and so mote it be" .
* All nod and agree at this given truth.
* But
* Not but for the silver light of our lady would we know anywhere else existed this darkening , he exclaims ! .
* A drum starts to beat softly as the crones of this gathered tribe begin to chant .
* Our oldest tribe member steps forward, for on this night they will carry the youngest in their arms .
* Together it will be their honour to sing for the log of Yule to then be consumed by this ,
* our holy fire .
* As the longest night starts its ending and the folk kneel beside the sacred glow messages are shouted to those who have passed through the great veil .
* They hear our shouts of love and joy , they hear us call their names as we tell them , "all is well ".
* We send our gratitude ,thanks and blessings may they be,
* as we have been, on this longest of all nights
A scenic blue are ocean’s crested waves
with tufts of white that spill in feathered sprays
amidst the troughs and valleys of the sea.
Will time or tempest bring God back to me?
Horizons hold no hint of land or line
to separate the sea from the divine;
just miles of ragged waves that sway and dip
like drunken wains with surges of my ship.
I come alone upon a summer’s morn
to ride with tide and purpose where I’m borne,
to meet the sea at last on my own terms,
where poetry and savagery affirms.
No longer will I be the willing slave.
I’ll seize the day and vow that I’ll be brave
and know with salt and spray, I’ll come alive,
compelled by fate to awaken and survive.
I’ll listen for the seagulls in their play
while they send raucous greetings to the day.
All boasts of man the mighty sea dispels
like diamonds that sparkle on the swells.
No person lives who can command earth’s sea;
for it commands for all eternity.
All wagers with the fickle sea are fraught
with perils for each rough-hewn boat or yacht.
Brave fools with consternation venture out;
though hearts may pound and minds be full of doubt.
They promise to their god, they’ll be reborn
and keep the tryst that they had once forsworn.
Through life’s adventures we are filled with woes,
yet still set sail to where the sunset goes.
From heaven and the ancient deep, we’re barred;
while dreams peek through the portals, dimly-starred.
It is a fool who names fate’s course their own.
All folks set sail with winds and tides they're shown.
I’ll seek this blessed rage of order, quite composed
with all my inner demons now exposed.
Radiant are the words
that painted your existance
Shinning are the details
swept with lyrical rhymes
Brightly sewn were intentions
that bless us day and night
A tapestry of beauty
in heart shapes and designs
A glowing presence expressing love
made of it's own light
Hopes that peddle effortlessly
that never wains or tires
Happy and content
circleing it's beautiful fire
Sparks sparkling words of care
Rainbow colours here and there
Stars that twinkle in the night
small white unageable lights
That lights above the perfect night
Just before the perfect day
I like the way
you decorated my heart
I really can't discribe
this kind of art
Colours are made to
dazzle the eyes
But what you've given
also pleases the blind
Rhyme and rythem
do not account for the deaf
But lives feel those
certian depths
I stand in awe
of your beautiful delights
Close my eyes
and say good night
Form:
They grabbed the future by the reigns
Right outside the wedding gate
But alas with passing years
The age of old gets hard to take
Who knew that as of late
Memories would start to wain
Both of them still feel the love
But deep inside so much has changed
In the fog of her mind
She recognizes the familiar face
But as hard as she tries
She can't recall the familiar name
He takes her by her fragile hand
Comforts her with it's okay
You're still my girl, I'm still your man
And it will always be that way
He remembers well his wedding vow
All the promises that he made
And all that heaven will allow
Though they're both now old and gray
Over the years with so much
They held on tight to the love they saved
So at this time they'd have enough
For the likes of this day
Driven by valour he did walk tall
Alone in trench the past recalled
Any fear that was felt buried deep
His eyes are closing in final sleep.
So young to be lying in the mud
Dying alone and so much blood
His life not lived, all is undone
Never to know who lost or won.
Failing mind thinks of summer day
Joyfully laughing the hours away
With girl he loves her hair aflame
Breathless moment, lifeforce wains.
Silent prayer the end is nigh
Whoever said grown men don't cry?
Futile war lives thrown away
Battlefield dreams left to decay.
Tears of a Valiant Soldier
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
by:
Faraz Ajmal
03/07/2022
Written: October 27, 2023 For Ink Empress Contest
_____________________________________________
Under the diaphanous glow of the moon.
They rise sequentially to a delightful boon.
They have no feathers to adorn their skin.
They still sway quietly and love to spin.
Angels evolved with their comely wings.
Let our souls fly via shadow, amid springs.
Their dulcet grace shone, and they were brilliant.
A rule was argued until it was deemed resilient.
In their mellifluous flight, they blaze a path ahead.
To rise across the humdrum and the dread.
Embracing our true nature, our inner light
And embark on an endeavor that glows bright.
Heave-hoed hereof hallowed halls of heaven.
Their flaps hurled them forth, yet again leaven.
Their minds were furtive on the floor, twirling.
Sage sight scarlet-smeared saffron swirling.
On an arcane spring day, an eternal angel sings.
A world abyss carries empathy and peace strings.
Humming his tune all day over freshly cut hay
As the sun set down, the haycocks turned to clay.
Scorch my lips and quench my thirst.
I sense a schism and wish the wood had burnt
This cherub has no feathers in his wings.
Spouts anguish from inside, a burning ring.
Intense heat as they recover and renew.
Blaze floated and lower downward blew.
As a flock of birds drifting in the auric air.
Wisteria wains on white wings and stares.
If wings have been equated with plumage,
These angels provide us with a fresh triage.
Strong featherless wings are a sign of pride.
Challenge us to prevail utterly by their side.
Featherless angels are luminous and buoyant.
Seek their wise and keen support as clairvoyants.
They elevate us to eager heights on invisible wings.
Sending smiles to our faces as they fit past things.
They serve as a signal that we are all free to fly.
Despite challenges and tribulations, we rely
Their vitality is stored in the depths of the soul
A heavenly grasp, an aura of celestial stroll.
He's small, barely eight inches tall
but those little legs let him chase the ball.
It's his favorite past time much to my chagrin
but I do it for the pleasure in watching him.
He's quick, he's fast
thrilled to chase or catch the ball as it is cast.
Too soon my enthusiasm wains
and playing endlessly becomes a pain.
The snow man made totally of snow
plump, round and cold
can hold the battered ball so old
and pretend to get ready to throw.
My dog with such a tiny brain
never let's his joy falter or wain.
There he sits without bark
waiting patient for the game to start.
HARVEST
Day after day we are out in the sun
Collecting the harvest before it rains.
Day after day until daylight is done,
Scything the ripe hay to fill up the wains.
They say the fresh air is good for our health;
Far better that being cooped up inside.
But we say it’s good for the farmer’s wealth,
Using child labour, it can’t be denied.
All very well for the artist to say
What a beautiful country scene we make.
But we have no time to pose here all day,
Even though we deserve a well-earned break.
We have one more day to finish it all.
On Monday morning we go back to school