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?
Enough is as good as a feast.
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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?
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
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
Old English Rescue
My dearest love, my glory
The bearer of this note
Is but a trusted servant
Can read not what I wrote
But knows how much I love thee
And how on thee I dote
Tis folly you should think of me
A rouge and treacherous man
I pledge eternal love to thee
And I’ve a rescue plan
Thy father and thy brother
Pledge their full support
I sail with the morning tide
To thy prison port
The minions of my father
Care naught of what I do
For they too know of true love
And support my love of you
Clothe thee thus in black
On the morrow’s moonless night
The tower’s door will be unlocked
Thy guards not in thy sight
My servant then will guide thee
To our rendezvous
We’ll sail before the morning light
Together, just we two
Henceforth know my dearest
My prayers and thoughts are thine
And though it be a fortnight
Thy future lies with mine
Mdailey 3/5/12
What wondrous beauty lies within these eyes
Fairest creature in face and Divine form
Thy vision lovelier than summer skies
In thee, my true happiness now reborn
Lay with thine loving hand upon my heart
Breath of love whispered soft upon my cheek
Please, fear not that we shall be torn apart
For our love be strong, not shallow or weak
Hold my love close, keep it forever near
Clasped in thy sweet beauty, thy shining light
Draw upon its strength, to silence thy fear
To guide thee through shadows in darkened night
Oh beauty, until thou art mine once more
Remember my love be steadfast and pure