Old English Poems | Examples

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My defeat

The darkness is all I see. I have given into the darkness.

My isolation is my defeat. My defiance is not me trying to be rude when I say this I get shunned. To be throned is to be above everyone else to be understood is to be put down.

My isolation is my defeat. My darkness understands my silence and my depression. We smile as if we are one. I am tired of smiling and laughing.

My isolation is my defeat. My darkness is part of me. My dreams are not what they may seem.

My isolation is my defeat. I am strong and brave for everyone else because I do not know anything else. stand up for thyself and get told not to backtalk shunned into the darkness once again.

My isolation is my defeat. Can I trust thyself? Stay quiet and don't backtalk to thy mother or father. Isn't that how a conversation works? stay strong for thy younger siblings. Be the one Thy friends come to when they have a problem but as I listen I realize thy friends would not listen back if I had a problem.

Isolation is my defeat.

Premium Member Ansuz Bestoweth Thy Poem of Runes

Fehu bestoweth golden hope
Uruz doth endure battles through strength
Thurisaz provoketh strife and guardeth my rose
Whilst Anuz communicates with divine length

Raidho pursueth journeys of measured rhythm
Kenaz illuminates creative spiritual knowledge
Gebo granteth gifts as infinitum
As Wunjo doth harness harmony in a college

Hagalaz transformeth with tempests and chaos
Nauthiz, by resistance, takes constraint
Isa blossoms in stillness, as iciness plays on
Yet, Jera rewardeth cycles of harvest in haste

Eihwaz endureth death, resilience, and rebirth
Perthro revealeth mystery and knowledge
Algiz defendeth with steadfast and mighty girth 
So, Sowilo shineth in sunny sparks of voltage 

Tiwaz upholdeth justice, making a leader
Berkano bringeth fertility with new beginnings
Ehwaz uniteth partners and team seekers
For Mannaz exalteth communal incentives 

Laguz floweth as a stream to raise intuition
Ingwaz concealeth fertile power and energy
Dagaz breaketh visions from night imprisoned
Whilst Othala preserveth heritage in memories

Premium Member I'll Never Break Your Heart 'With kind apology to Robert Burns'

Scarce thought held I for angel's hearts, though oft touched by their wings.
Sure the mind stays fixed from mortal parts, while to you an angel sings.
Then light pours down from heaven above, through virgin forest crown.
And long last seen through haloed love, the weary heart lays down.
And long last seen through haloed love, the weary heart lays down.

Chorus:

		I'll never break your heart.
		I'll hold it as the fragile rose, whose petals ne'er shall part.
		I'll never break my vow.
		I'll hold fast 'gainst the ebb and flow, as strong then e'en as now.
		I never will break down.
		While crimson'd cataract course these veins, I'll stand upon my ground.
		While crimson'd cataract course these veins, I'll stand upon my ground.

Red lips told me, "'Twill break my heart, if ever you take your leave.
Should worldly 'fairs tear us apart, fair Heaven forever would grieve."
Then place your trust alone in God, ne'er mindful of the rest.
While angels tread that hallowed sod, to you my love is blest.
While angels tread that hallowed sod, to you my love is blest.

CHORUS

And I never will break your heart.


An Immortal's Prophecy

The stench of endless days clings to my name;
My folly, like a rust, but stings not him.
A meek heart paid for by relentless blame,
Youth’s bitter wine- a draught forever grim.

Past twilights reel in cadences untrue,
I fall, a penitent within the flame;
Bound to repentance- ash where roses grew,
My voice, the echo of a sullied name.

O sickle, strike the valleys we once promised,
Lay low the ghosts that haunt my dwindled shore.
Let golden breaths on iron fleece be kissed,
And singe the thought that kept me wanting more.

So let the world unspool what once I wore,
That even ruin might return me pure.

I Cannot Sea

A life unto of ebb & flow
The Masters seated down below
Or high above
I cannot tell
Heaven may beholden hell

My heart cries out
but I think I died
It doesn’t pound that it did before
For where I am, I am not to sure

I did not bleed, I did not scorn
Where did this rath come forlorn

I thought I’d paved the way to free
Yet here I am, alone - 

I cannot sea

Except a fair few off light that dwindles
I’m thwarted & it pains me so
To just feel pain and so much woe

I cannot sea

Am I on a boat, Am I on a yacht
These memories that not be forgot

I think I know what’s happening here
It is my turn to take the steer
I never wanted it this way
But now I’m steering all the way

Until the next one, next from me
Beholds from not is from the sea
That dwindling light, passage unclear
The ebb & flow is so near
It may be your time soon to come
That pounding heart that is now done

I cannot sea
Can you see?

An Old English Proverb

Enough is as good as a feast.


To What Shall I Liken Thee?

Shall I liken thee to a sunrise?
Thou art the sunrise of a fall morning's glow.
Thou art the oaken breeze that bids you "hello."
Shall this describe to what I liken thee? No.

Shall I liken thee to a sunset?
Thou art a gold sunset, from the hills only seen,
To orange ribbon atop the city's crystal beam,
Reflecting heavenly diamonds, infinite gleam.

But no, this shall not be to what I liken thee.
For words fail to describe what thou meanest to me.

Athelstan King of Albion

when Merlin 
knelte to Æthelstan
he bid'th wealthe
acrosse the lande
an' lo thy King
giveth his hande
presidin' o'er all Albion

from Alfred
in whose shadowe ran
emerg'd the court
of Æthelstan 
an' on to rule
the state-ly man
for all the souls of Albion

Tale of Woe

Thy young maiden,
Peck her Lily flower a shake. 
A brittle sound of break,
Sobbing till tears make.
 
Bare feet on wet grass. 
Alas, her life, soon ‘twill pass.

Grace of Ones Own

Many of word from mouth and quill 
Non too sacred than mind still
Look unto ones deepest of eyes
One cannot see whats hiden inside
A wiseman once told I
Never utter what thy thoughts hide
For one has thy power to behold
Power of stories untold
From enemies we may fight
To thy dear beloved wife
Nor thy fellow countryman 
To thy one trusted hand
Not a single soul doth hear
thy mind doth keep so dear

Old English Church

Ways to pep up the pulpit and pew,
gave way to ennui.
The clergy went away to get help
and never came back.

Eventually, thundering sky's cracked 
stone, spire, and gable;
neglect and cold winds
nibbled at sculptured arch and buttress.

Where once was a stained-glass light,
weeds and tree-bones reach.
Where once cassocks swept
mice now nest
while above, priestly owls perch.

Eventually, walls crumbled
into niche and cranny.
Amid the spacy ruin
Jackdaws laid their speckled eggs -
angels fan danced by moonlight.

Epic

The blade buried     beneath the burning.
Old hopes lost, back    in the lash of battle.
One man walks      along the winded mount,
Turning slowly,      the sun-silvered seas
Draw his heart     horizon-ward, his eyes
Focus in search     of the lone fluttering sail,
The boat that bears     his bloodied King
Away from heavy war     forged ruin and waste,
Across the widening      waters. Taken to
The healing houses     of the Holy Isle.
Once flowing banners     torn down, bitter flood
Of his enemies' hate     hastening to undo
The loyal legacy.     One still loves.
His fate not to     fight hard, and fall
At the side of     his sovereign Lord.
Ordered and honoured     to keep heart-hope alive.
Over gorse crowned cliffs     he carries away
The heavy stewardship    of the infant prince.
His ward now to     watch and rear, until
His time is full ready     to revenge his father's fall.

Old English Lovemaking

Thou didst not make me come
I came of my own accord
now you tell me that you're bored
how can I improve on my sweet Lord

Thou art a ruffian - unskilled in the
art of lovemaking, no tantric sex
more like Titanic with a hex
I always know what's coming next

Who wrote my script and said that:
I wouldst love you no matter what?
maybe it was you more likely than not
I must be thankful, pretend at what I've got

Now thou art coming again - never mind my pain
Why is it that my loss has to be your gain?

Grace Thou Love Nary Forlorn----Old English

Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Tread cobbled path of wandering heart;
She speaks in moonlight spirit,
Thine treasure chest come undune,
'Till I lose mine feathers,
Frozen by her sole divinity;
She, found to mine lost,
Twixt these street exile redefined by her golden glory,
pounding on my chamber door;
I must forego the counsel of my twisted devils,
Rise from lay 'pon this brow beaten soul;
Swell into her wonder... lift love anew!
Heaven restore mine black gloom;
Her grace, she moves in poetry,
Spilleth' over, soothing matrimony.


~JSLambert                                      

                                                                             ©    PoeTTreeZ Publishing

The Wicked Deceiver Written In Old English

Art thou the wicked deceiver- who cometh dawn or dusk
Dweller in the heavens- who wrought scorn unto thy Creator 
Cast aloft- becoming caddish as cag-mag- a drab locked away in Bridewell’s gaole
Grinder seeker- who stood a midst the knowledge tree and offered nary but one
One bite will make thee greater than He- one taste shall wit thy mind 
Maker of gray betwixt black and white-a savory eater of men’s souls
Syllan thy lies for the Christ did rise for thou shalt tarry no more

Mote thy forkth tongue- shake-down thee to ever more hell
 Henceforth to dwell ever the more ye will- in mere of fiery waters
Waiter of the wittle of Good and Evil- Forsooth! Forsooth! Thy dream
Dost not the coddish fear and tremble while thou holdth Bilbo high
Hearth lay thy saber- blood stained pudhly with the souls of mankind 
Monstrous shadowed deceiver- no longer doth the grave highly boast 
Beautifully bequeath a love of mankind- a son of David- the Christ did rise
Resist not the righteous-the judge of Adam sits at the Creator’s right side
And thy kingdom shall tarry no more-no more
And Thy kingdom shall tarry no more

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