The End of the Feud
The revellers came to Castle Krag
And whirled in through the hall,
Into the lavish ballroom with
The Lord of Donegal,
He came with his wife and mistresses,
A merry, laughing crew,
To answer the call by Castle Krag
To end their ancient feud!
For there by the central pillars stood
The Baron, John FitzHugh,
A smile on the ravaged, bitter lips
That his enemies once knew,
He was of a mind to end it all,
The bitterness, the strife,
And even smiled at the courtesan
That he'd asked to make his wife.
She'd laughed, and fluttered her fan at him,
'I don't think so, my lord.
I'd rather share in the favours of
The Lord of Donegal! '
And so she had joined the mistresses
Of his neighbour, and his foe,
The family of O'Donnell with
Their feud of long ago.
So long ago it was lost in time,
The generations passed,
But none of the bitterness had gone,
Some things were meant to last,
The wife of the Second Baron
Had absconded in the night,
With the heir to the Lord of Donegal,
He'd not put up a fight.
The Seventh Baron, John FitzHugh,
Now strolled around the floor,
Intent on greeting guests as he
Had never done before,
'There's wine and ale a-plenty,
We have venison and game,
Let's make it the sort of party that
Goes down in the Hall of Fame! '
The orchestra struck up a tune,
The ladies whirled their fans,
And strutted with their bustles,
Tripped the floor and waved their hands,
Loosened off the stays that held
Confining every breast,
As bodices then fell apart,
Revealing all the rest.
The wine was flowing freely, you
Could see it in their eyes,
These revellers, who'd come to gloat,
The man they'd ostracized,
They laughed and chattered freely
Lurched and fell in revelry,
The Lord of Donegal was drunk,
And sat with Alice Leigh.
The Baron looked at Alice and
She stared him in the eyes,
'Is what you see acceptable, my lord,
Are you surprised? '
She placed the Lord of Donegal's
Right hand upon her breast,
As all the while the Baron stood,
Most pale, and quite distressed.
But out beyond the oaken doors
The masons were at work,
Building a solid wall of stone
That no-one could disturb,
While others filled the windows with
Their mortar and their lime,
And slate of seven inches thick
From Donegal's own mine.
By midnight John FitzHugh had gone,
Was nowhere to be seen,
The revellers were drunk as dogs
And thought to leave the scene,
Whereon the baron, he appeared
On some high balcony,
Within the ballroom's gothic dome
He called to the company.
'I trust you have enjoyed the fare
I've given you this night,
What's left, you'd better make it last,
There's nothing else in sight!
You may as well just party on,
There's nowhere left to go,
The ballroom, your last resting place,
Fit for my ancient foe! '
They rushed the doors, they found the wall,
They tried each window pane,
They looked for any exit but
Their search was quite in vain,
The ballroom was a prison with
No doors, and yet no bars,
They milled around the empty room
And stared up at the stars.
'And now for you, a final treat, '
The baron bellowed down,
'My Lord of Donegal, I hear
You thought to wear the crown,
I have some things to crown you with,
Suspended in this sheet...'
He tugged a cord, it opened up
And billowed at his feet.
The cockroaches that he had bred
In dungeons, dark and warm,
Were loosed from that suspended sheet
And fell there, in a swarm, ,
A million crawling roaches that
Festooned the ladies hair,
Crawled in and out of bodices
To screams of pure despair.
And then the lights went down, and they
Were screaming in their need,
As all those crawling roaches found
New places they could breed,
And Baron John FitzHugh went out
And thought to come back late,
The screams he'd heard were more than
Quite enough, to feed his hate.
* * * * * * *
A week went by, he took an axe
And smashed that masonry,
Remorse had come upon him and
He thought of Alice Leigh,
'If only God has spared her, I'll repent, '
He prayed aloud,
But all was silent in that room,
Each corpse would need a shroud.
And then the slightest movement by
The pillars in the hall,
Had caught his eye, he gave a sigh
And felt that he might fall,
For Alice Leigh was propped upright
And stared and stared at him,
'I love you still, ' he groaned, 'my dear,
Why did you go with him? '
He waited for her answer, she
Had still not made a move,
She stood there in the darkness, like
Some beauty from the Louvre,
But then her lips had parted and
His heart stopped, in despair,
As roaches poured from her eyes and mouth
And crawled all through her hair!
12 January 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Castle of Lost in Time
The Castle that stood in the farmer's field
Was a grey and battered shrine,
As kids we'd clamber the battlements
And imagine a former time,
When Norman soldiers stood at the heights,
Looked down on the Saxon serfs,
Who paid their tax to the Baron there
When the Normans ruled the earth!
And I'd be Baron Fitzwulf up there,
While Craig would be Robin Hood,
Our histories would be twisted there,
We'd mix and match what we could.
A hundred years was a slip of time
To pray for my own soul's sake,
When I was Thomas A'Becket, and
He was Sir Francis Drake.
The walls were battered and falling down
Had been since the Cromwell siege,
When Charles had fled with his standard, said
No longer to be ‘My Liege! '
The cannon had ripped through the southern wall
Had brought the portcullis down,
And the Roundheads, ferried across the moat
Had slain every man they found!
But ivy clung to the stubborn stone,
And climbed right up to the tower,
Where knights once practised their courtly love
Grew the strangest sort of flower,
Its petals red in the morning sun
With a heart of gold within,
‘They'd pluck it up on their lances there, '
Said Craig, ‘for Ann Boleyn! '
Above our heads was a fireplace
Set high in the ancient wall,
The beams long gone where a floor belonged,
There'd once been a stately hall,
Where Dames had danced in their silken gowns
And knights had cast in their lots,
Had drawn up the Magna Carta there
For the shame of John the fox!
But Farmer Giles was a bitter man
And he'd chase us over the brook,
Whenever he showed in the Castle grounds,
No matter what time it took,
He even managed to fence it off
But we'd scale the fence with glee,
And play to our hearts content, with him
Away where he couldn't see!
One night, we carried our sleeping bags
And stole through the darkening night,
I was the Duke of Marlborough
And Craig was Sir Hugh De'Spight,
We made our way through the ruins, found
A nook, we could safely sleep,
‘We'll wait ‘til the morning light, ' I said,
‘Then we'll play the Lord of the Keep! '
We woke as the Moon beamed overhead
Peeked out through a glowering cloud,
I could hear the strains of a harpsichord
The murmured sounds of a crowd,
A man that looked like a villainous lord
Appeared, not saying a word,
We scrambled out of our sleeping bags
As he drew out a wicked sword!
Then Craig took off with a yell, and I
Flew over the slated floor,
We jumped down into a passageway
That hadn't been there before,
The walls were damp with an evil stain
And brands that flickered the way,
Along to the castle dungeons, filled
With chains, and a smell - Decay!
And there in a tiny cell we saw,
Most rivetting sight of all,
The skull of a grinning skeleton,
Chained fast to the dungeon wall,
The bones were covered in cobwebs
But he'd scrawled in dust on the floor,
‘Pray God to smite all mine enemies,
The Devil will take them all! '
We heard the clanking of chains along
The darkened passageway,
And like a shroud in a shimmering cloud
Was a soldier, dressed in grey,
His stare was that of a madman, crazed
The fires of hell in his eyes,
As he seized the haft of a burning brand
He looked like the Farmer, Giles!
I ran clean through the spectre, thought
That Craig was coming behind,
Cleared the end of the tunnel, leapt
Back up in a single bound,
I didn't stop for a backward glance
I ran with a sense of doom,
Away from the Castle of Lost in Time
To the safety of my room.
I never saw Craig, my friend again,
They scoured the countryside,
Ravaged the ancient Castle grounds,
Questioned me ‘til I cried!
They found him dead in the dungeon
Chained, and lying against the wall,
A piece of flint in a bloodied hand
That had scraped in a childish scrawl:
‘May the Devil smite him, through and through,
Mine enemy, Sir Giles FitzHugh! '
20 August,2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cold Iron
Gold is for the mistress -- silver for the maid --
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.
"Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of them all."
So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
"Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- shall be master of you all!"
Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along;
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron -- Cold Iron -- was master of it all!
Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)
"What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?"
"Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all."
Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown --
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.
"As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"
Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)
"Here is Bread and here is Wine -- sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall
How Iron -- Cold Iron -- can be master of men all!"
He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and brake the Bread,
With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:
"See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,
Show Iron -- Cold Iron -- to be master of men all."
"Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.
Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
I forgive thy treason -- I redeem thy fall --
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"
Crowns are for the valiant -- sceptres for the bold!
Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.
"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all!
Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Baron / Blue Max
The son of a major, Prussian nobleman
His name bestowed by a holy Roman
The war broke out, and looked to the air
24 hours of training he was there
100 miles an hour, top speed his plane would fly
and if he flew behind you, you know you're sure to die
Eighty kills, that are confirmed
While other pilots have so much more to learn
Red Baron! Blue Max! The albatross flies high
Red Baron! Blue Max! He's got you in his sights
The Red-Battle Flyer
Roll right fire
He sees no faces
The ace of aces
His British quarry flew a reckless flight
A shot from the ground took the red baron's life
He flew with honor, he flew with pride
In 1918, The battle flyer died
Chorus
The red baron...Blue max!
The albatross flies high
The red baron...Blue max!
He's got you in his sight!
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lovers Prayer
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Just wanna be with my love tonight
I dont want no jive artists calling me on the telephone
Dont wanna watch the carson show all alone
I just wanna lay back, take my rest
With the one I loves head resting on my chest
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Just wanna be with my love tonight
And I dont want my best friends even coming round
cos if they do I might put em down
Carsons over and the lights way down low
And all I got, I got a heart full of soul
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
I said, lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
I said, lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Just wanna be with my love tonight
And its a lovers prayer, oh yes it is
Takes a little time, takes a little care, yeah, yeah, yeah
And when it gets way on in the midnight hour
I just wanna play my guitar
I just wanna see you smile, touch your face
Be with you in my own place
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
I said, lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Lord, lord, lord, lord, lord
Just wanna be with my love tonight
Just wanna be with my love tonight
Just wanna be with my love tonight
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From a distance
From a distance Lord I followed You
as I wondered what the crowd would do.
Keeping silent I walked by myself.
There undetected I moved with stealth.
In the distance You were on Your own
before the Sanhedrin all alone.
By the fireside I stood keeping warm
leaving You alone to face the storm.
Then, 'You're one of them' I heard her say
so I turned my head and looked away.
'I don't know this man' out loud I said
and cursing denied my Lord instead.
Far from You my Lord I swore out loud
unable now to hide in the crowd.
With oaths and curses as I stood there
three times denying they heard me swear.
Your eyes met mine in the distance Lord
they spoke much louder than any word.
For the way, Lord that You looked at me
convicted me of my hypocrisy.
I felt so ashamed of what I'd done
and into the distance tried to run.
Though I wept and sobbed deep tears of grief
I was unable to find any relief.
In the distance as You climbed the hill
I kept myself hidden there until
You were led away and crucified.
The Lord I'd forsaken and denied.
'Too late' I thought as I saw You die.
'Too late to say sorry' was my cry.
So I left behind that shameful cross
and went back to fishing feeling my loss.
All through the night I was toiling there
as the dawn rose I looked in despair.
Then a voice called out loud from the shore
'On the other side you'll catch much more.'
On the other side we filled our net.
So many fish I'll never forget.
'It is the Lord' I heard someone say.
I leapt out of the boat straight away.
To be close to You was my desire
swimming to join You there by the fire.
The others joined with us at the meal
their wonder unable to conceal.
Three times You asked me if I loved You.
Three times I said 'Lord, You know I do.'
I thought as we dined by the sea shore
'I'll not keep my distance any more.'
The Lady in the Tower
Some years long since, though best forgot
I travelled to a country squire,
I'd not seen him since Grammar School
We'd shared those years of learning, dire!
But as young men we'd grown apart
For he had titles, grounds to claim
While I was just a journeyman,
My friend, his name was Daniel Crane.
He owned most of the Bailiwick
And lived alone in quiet content,
His home was known as Motte House
The moat as dry as tongues in Lent,
The carriage took me to his step
Where he had waited long for me,
And we had laughed in merriment
Old friends, to see how changed were we.
The house, a rambling Tudor style
Had more rooms than a grand hotel,
He showed me to a guest room, then
Went down and rang the dinner bell.
I laughed to see the platter laid
By his own hand, the cook had left,
We dined on beef, potatoes mashed,
And drenched down with some vinaigrette.
For wine, he favoured Hock at first
Then claret, we disposed of that,
So when the plates were empty, he
Went down to fetch the Port, a vat!
We tapped it off, grew merrier
Stormed up and down the ancient hall
Reciting verse, our favourite
'Childe Harold' was the first recalled.
For Byron was in London then,
A lion, there at Holland House,
With Lady Caro William
His scandals multiplied so fast,
We roared at passages of verse
Assailing poor virginity,
And drank his health, that he'd be worse
We felt our consanguinity.
'You have not married yet, I see, '
I mentioned to my friend at last,
He shook his head, looked moody,
And I hastened then to fill his glass.
By midnight, with a looser tongue
He told me what had caused his pain
And I grew troubled as he spoke
His darkness then, did Daniel Crane.
Up on the hill a castle stood
With crenellated towers and keep,
We looked up from the balcony
To see it grim, and dark and bleak,
A light shone in the topmost tower
A faint but flickered candlelight,
'It's there the girl that once I loved
Is locked and chained, kept out of sight.'
I held my breath at this, and saw
A glint of tear at either eye,
He turned to go inside, his face
Averted, though I heard him sigh;
'The Baron Fitzwulf mutters there,
As crazy as a lord may be,
He has the syphilis, I heard,
His line, back to infinity.'
'His daughter Joan, I played with once
When still a child, ' - (I barely stirred) ,
'Played 'catch' out in the summer months
Among the butterflies, and birds;
She'd laugh and chase me for a kiss,
A forward wench, she led the play,
Got down and lent her body there
We'd tumble in the new mown hay.'
'But she was just turned seventeen
Her mother died, brought on her cares,
They say the Baron pushed her there,
She tumbled down a flight of stairs.
Her neck was broken, instant death,
And Joan distraught beyond belief,
I showed up at the funeral,
And once they'd gone, I laid a wreath.'
'I never saw my Joan again,
They said she raved, had gone insane,
Some doctor they had brought for her
Said it was humours of the brain.
He locked her in that dingy tower
The one they call the Battle Keep,
I often hear her cry out loud
On nights I find it hard to sleep.'
I'd been there just a week, and then
I heard a piercing cry one night
Like all the demons fled from hell
Pursued her in the candlelight,
'You can't go on like this, ' I said,
As Daniel tore his hair, and cried;
'My God, I can't! ' he said, and then
'I'll free her first, make her my bride! '
One night the moon went in behind
A stormcloud, and the rain came down,
We donned our coats, and took some tools
And walked across the rolling down.
The Castle stood, its shadow formed
An inky blackness, lost to sight,
And there we found the servants' door
And gained admittance in the night.
The stairway was of rotted stone,
One foot askance and we were lost,
We mounted slowly up the keep
The prize above would pay the cost;
The door was triple locked and barred,
We cut the chain and burst the lock,
When from within we heard a growl
Like some dread beast, chained to a rock.
The door flew wide, and in he went
His arms outstretched to claim his love,
I caught a glimpse of her, untamed,
She flew at him, arms raised above,
But then she slashed and tore at him
And screamed her hatred in his face,
'If not for you, my mother dear
Would still be living in this place! '
She ripped his throat wide open then,
He fell, and bled all on the floor,
I caught and bound her in the chain
We'd taken from the prison door;
The Baron came, and tore his hair
'I thought that it might come to this!
I saved her from the hangman when
She pushed her mother down the stairs.'
There was no saving her again,
The magistrates took her away
I stood and watched at Newgate when
They launched her to eternity;
Her mother had forbade the match,
Joan pushed her then, in rage and pain,
And blamed him then; he never knew,
My friend who loved her, Daniel Crane.
5 May 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Twin with the Purple Heart
One of the girls had unblemished skin,
One had a purple mark,
But for the stain on her shoulder there
You couldn't tell them apart.
While Jane was born at quarter to three
Joan was at ten to four,
Jane was destined for wealth and fame,
While Joan would be always poor!
As Joan had cried, the mother died,
The bombers were over the town,
The hospital where the daughters lay
Was hit, came tumbling down.
An aunt took Jane, and headed north,
A nurse took Joan due west,
So one was raised in a simple home,
The other had only the best.
The Marchioness of Huntingdon,
The title was left to Jane,
Along with a hundred thousand pounds,
A manor with moat, and game,
She'd heard that she had a twin out there
But lost in the war at the start,
She'd looked in vain, but the daughter Jane
Was the twin with the purple heart.
Her aunt had said, it marked her out,
The first born, and the heir,
To claim the entire inheritance,
Her sister had no share,
So Jane had put Joan out of her mind,
Grew arrogant, and vain,
If Joan turned up on her doorstep she
Would say that she had no claim!
She fell in love with a nobleman,
Impoverished though he was,
And he had envied the fortune that
His forebears long had lost,
He'd been betrothed to a simple girl
But said to return the ring,
A Baron wed to a Marchioness
Was a more exciting thing!
They wed in the Spring in a stately home,
His spurned ex-love had cried,
She kept the newspaper cuttings of
The bridegroom and the bride,
She swore she'd get her revenge one day,
That this was not the end,
And then the Baron had called on her,
Asked her to be his friend!
It seemed that Jane had worn him down,
Had cut him to the quick,
By keeping the Baron penniless,
She ruled, she held the stick!
He said that he wished that he'd stuck with her,
Had kept her for his own,
'The likeness is quite remarkable! '
He said to the grieving Joan.
They schemed, and then they hatched a plot,
She bought some purple dye,
Tried it out on her shoulder, drew
A heart, and he told her why:
'For you could pass for the Baroness,
I can't tell you apart,
To me it's plain, you could take her name
As the twin with the purple heart! '
So Joan turned up on the doorstep then,
And Jane was taken aback!
'If I didn't know much better, I
Would swear you're the twin I lack.'
They talked and compared the lives they'd led,
And Jane became afraid,
'Of course, there is no inheritance,
But we need a downstairs maid! '
So Joan moved in, and lived downstairs,
The kitchen became her home,
The Baron, he ignored her, played
The game that he'd planned with Joan.
While Jane was autocratic,
Treated Joan as the family shame,
With nothing of sister love to spare
While the plotters played their game.
While Joan was inking her shoulder, Jane
Came marching into her room,
'You want to look like your sister, well,
That's sweet, ' and laughed in the gloom.
'Let's see how much we can fool him,
Wear my clothes and wait outside,
He's taking me on an outing,
Over there, by the riverside!
Joan dressed herself as Jane and went,
She thought it a joke supreme,
She'd be able to spend some time with him
While Jane thought it a scream,
The purple heart by her halter top
Reflected the summer sun,
While the Baron drove, not saying a word
As his world became undone.
He left her there in the water, drove
Back home, and he strode right in,
'My God, but you should have seen her! '
He began, as she walked to him.
He wet his finger and rubbed the heart,
Then paled, as she started to laugh,
'You can rub and rub 'til eternity,
I'm the twin with the purple heart! '
26 February 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Castle in the Marsh
The Castle out in the marshes ruled
The serfs with an iron rod,
The yeomen, hidden in cottages,
Were careful where they trod,
The soldiers poured from the Castle walls
And rode the peasants down,
They stole the women they caught abroad
And returned to the Castle grounds.
There was only a single causeway that
Was guarded, night and day,
Many a father came to grief
When crossing the moat, to pay,
To save his daughter from certain shame,
A fate that, worse than death,
Was tearing the heart from Amber Vale
As the mothers mourned, distressed.
The Baron, Ralph Fitzherbert held
His acres from the King,
(That William, known as Rufus, who
Would hunt most anything) ,
He was known as ‘Baron Slaughter'
For he murdered them at will,
He burdened them all with taxes,
Raped and pillaged, and then he'd kill.
The women held in the Castle Keep
Were set to work, and raped,
They scrubbed in the kitchen galley, cooked
The food, and cleaned the grate,
Two of their number were trusted to
Go out in the misty marsh,
Collecting the herbs and mushrooms for
The Captain of the Guard.
But Aethelflaed had been pregnant with
Fitzherbert's only son,
She came to term in the August and
She hated everyone:
‘The boy's as good as a Norman, I'm
The wife of a Saxon squire, '
She wept, and then she had strangled it,
Throwing it in the fire!
Fitzherbert ranted all day long,
Lamenting what she'd done,
‘I should have known that a Saxon whore's
Not fit to bear my son! '
He stripped and flayed ‘til the flesh had peeled,
‘Til he thought that his arm would tire,
Then dragged her over the hearth, and placed
Her hands in the blazing fire!
They hung her naked from a tree
As the villagers came to wail,
Then rode and murdered her husband there
In the village of Amber Vale,
The women held in the Castle wept
At the Normans' cruelty,
They'd whisper: ‘That was Aethelflaed,
But it might as well be me! '
The Baron held a feast that night
And they drank of their Norman wine,
From casks brought in from Normandy
But opened before they dined,
By midnight they were vomiting
Were helpless, caught in a trance,
From the berries of deadly nightshade squeezed
As the women began to dance.
They lopped off every soldier's head
As they lay, none thought it harsh,
Then they bound and carried the Baron out
And thrust him into the marsh,
With an apple jammed in his gaping jaw
And his glaring eyes so big,
He sank ‘til his head was all they saw
Like the head of a slaughtered pig.
The trees at Amber Vale were hung
With a strange but exotic fruit,
The heads of the soldiers hanging there
With their coats of mail, to suit,
They stormed the Castle and burnt it down
The ruins would make you quail,
For Belladonna is nurtured there
By the village of Amber Vale!
2 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knock, Knock
Lord Jesus stood there at my door
And twice He knocked then stayed.
It was my choice, I could ignore
And that's why I delayed.
He walked away.
I watched Him leave
Then got on with my life,
To sin like others who deceive
And cause all sorts of strife
Lord Jesus stood there at my door
And I watched Him inside.
I knew He knew my every flaw,
Not one could be denied.
I stood my ground, He left again.
I let Him walk away.
I struggled every now and then
With fears of Judgment Day.
My bank account looked mighty fine
As fifteen years passed by.
To think that all that cash was mine.
How come my soul felt dry?
Lord Jesus stood there at my door,
With fear I turned the key.
And simply stared at Christ with awe.
You see, He died for me.
Lord Jesus entered as my friend,
Yet also set me straight.
My useless life came to an end,
God's love to celebrate.
I sighed I'd made Him wait so long.
Those years I can't restore.
I tell you this, you can't go wrong
If you open the door.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I thought
I thought I saw his face to day.
In the wake of the sun.
And then I heard the Lord say.
His work here is done.
I thought I heardhis voice today.
And luagh your joyfull luagh.
Then I heard the Lord say.
There is peace dear one at last.
I though I felt your touch in the breeze that rustled by.
And then I heard the lord say.
The spirit never dies.
I thought I saw my broken hart.
In the cresent of the moon.
And then I heard the lord say.
I am coming soon.
I thought that you had left me
for the stars above.
And then I heard the lord say.
He has left you with his love.
I thought that I would miss you so.
And never find my way.
Then I heard the lord say.
He is with you every day
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Buried Alive!
The air was thin as I breathed it in,
It scarcely filled my throat,
I thrashed about and I tried to shout
But all I could do was croak,
I couldn't move for the lid above
And the sides just hemmed me in,
When a tap-tap-tap beneath my back
Broke in on my nightmare dream.
'Elizabeth! Elizabeth! ' I croaked,
As the torment grew,
'Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Oh Lord,
Please Lord, not you! '
The sweat broke out on my fevered brow,
The terror grew within,
For hell was there in my bleak despair
As the rattle of death chimed in!
My wife then slapped me about the face,
'Wake up - it's only a dream! '
I filled my lungs with a rush of air,
And fought the desire to scream.
'And who's this woman, Elizabeth? '
She said in a sombre tone,
'If ever I thought I'd caught you out
You'd be coming on home, alone.'
I shook my head in confusion then,
'Not true! There's only you!
The dream is simply an awful scene
Night terrors put me through.'
'You'd better get to a Shrink, ' she said,
'I've had enough of this,
For every night it's the same, you fight
For a woman you seem to miss.'
I went to a Psych, with no result,
I went to a Naturopath,
I tried to sweat out the evil in
The salts of a cleansing bath,
I even sat in a séance, tried
To find if a spirit cared,
When the spirit of one, Elizabeth, said:
'Remember the love we shared! '
'I know of no Elizabeth! '
I said, with my conscience clear,
It's only a dream that returns to me
Whenever the stars appear! '
It pushed the planchette back and forth,
And the pencil spelt 'Alive',
Went back, repeated across the board,
'You buried me - Alive! '
I staggered out of the séance then
Got drunk on the way back home,
The name had impressed my consciousness
With a vision of flesh and bone,
A vision of curling, darling hair,
And eyes that brightly shone,
A bonnet of blue forget-me-nots,
And lips that had whispered, 'John....'
My name is Anthony Peter
I repeated, twenty times,
I'd never been known as 'John', although
The name of John - it chimes!
I went to a hypnotherapist,
And asked him to take me back,
To find if I'd lived another life
In the dim and distant past.
He put me out in a minute, sent me
Whirling back through the years,
Laughing and mostly crying, I
Remembered it all with tears,
And suddenly there was Elizabeth,
A famous lawyer's wife,
I was a poor accountant, but
I loved her more than life.
The lawyer was cruel and heartless,
His wife was a comely wench,
He'd wed the girl to impress the lords
And his cronies on the bench,
He slept with another mistress on
The darker side of town,
But wouldn't release her from her vows
If the heavens came crashing down!
We fell in love in a morning,
Would meet at a farmer's farm,
While he was off in his Chambers
We were out in the farmer's barn,
We wracked our brains for the answer
To steal her away from him,
We both agreed that the freedom bought
With death, was the only thing.
My friend was a brilliant chemist,
With his philtres, drugs and charms,
Who gave me a special potion
That would set up the first alarm,
Elizabeth would be as dead
As anyone could believe,
And while she lay in her coffin there,
The rest of us could grieve.
I paid for the grave to be dug myself,
By the family crypt of 'Stall',
He'd dig to a depth of six feet down
Placed right by the western wall,
Then I could tunnel from under the wall
And take her into the crypt,
While under the cover of darkness
We'd escape to our own retreat.
The plan was fine as a plan, it worked,
I'd bored two holes in the lid,
Plenty of air would get to her
For the length of the time we'd need,
I paid the digger to leave the hole
Uncovered for just a day,
By the time that he filled that empty grave
We'd be well on the King's Highway.
But then, just back from the funeral,
I looked for the potion jar,
I knew to get rid of the evidence
Before we had gone too far,
My hand, it slipped, the jar was smashed
It cut me along the wrist,
The potion covered my bloodied arm,
I was too weak to resist.
I lay as dead, to the gravedigger,
With none, he thought, to care,
So thought he would do me a favour then
By burying me with her there,
He dropped my coffin on top of hers
While she lay waiting for me,
Then heard me kicking and screaming there
And knew she'd never be free!
* * * * * * *
It took some time, but I found the crypt
And I hid for a night and day,
Chiseled away at the base of the wall
'Til the stonework came away,
The coffins were planted one on one
And I smashed the bottom one first,
Pulled the corpse from its hiding place
As it fell, old bones in the dirt!
And a sigh burst out in the fetid air
As a bonnet fell to the ground,
Covered in blue forget-me-nots...
But I heard a terrible sound!
A tap-tap-tap from the other box,
And a voice that I once knew,
'Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Oh Lord,
Please Lord, not you! '
29 December 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Castle of Thought
Cold stone bricks,
A Castle of thought,
Holding feelings of myself
A cold starving prisoner.
A frigid chill
Seeps through cracks,
Cold are the thoughts of man,
Freezing the dark center.
Depraved of light
under Depression’s rule
Darkness surrounds the cell.
Walls with no windows
A castle of thought
Which keeps the soul hidden
In the icy domain
Of the Baron Depression.
Then comes an invasion on the wall
Threatening the peace of pity
And its lord Depression.
A siege of poetry
And self esteem
Its champion: Love.
Worry the dwellings
Of the castle of thought.
Bombardments rock
my small dark cell
visions of being crushed
during the confusion of battle
Frightens my starving spirit.
A war of virtue
At odds since the beginning
oppose each other on the
Fields of forever,
Neither ready to surrender,
Armies willing to perish
For control over my human soul.
An internal battle
taking its toll
On Baron’s castle of thought.
Warriors of ideals
Wasted on bloody moors
Ghastly Scavengers flock
On black wings
To pick their bones clean.
The ravens are at the wall
Eating what remains of
Depression’s dark armies.
The sovereign leader of
Darkness and dread
Escapes to devise
A tactic for another day
Love’s warm light filters through
Small splits rend in the bricks
And my cage flies open.
I am free to bathe in the sun’s
Hot golden rays.
I celebrate in feast and dance
around the fire of joy
kindled in the center
Of what is left of the castle of thought.
Love has released me
from bondage and chains,
Into the arms of my Queen,
Jubilation.
We plan a new home
her and I
with daisies and roses,
white picket fences
And all that is beautiful to view
We call it our Cottage of hope.
so all that remains is
loves blazing light
Forever there until
Future dark days.
poem by Heath Harrington
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Default
David Oyelowo, Greg Callahan, Katherine Moennig, Senyo Amoaku, Jeanne Baron, John Burke, Rob Locke, Stephen Lord, Jeanine Mason
from Default (2014)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lodi
(john c. fogerty)
Just about a year ago
I set out on the road
Seekin my fame and fortune
Lookin for a pot of gold
Things got bad and things got worse
I guess you know the tune
Oh lord, stuck in lodi again
I came in on a greyhound
Ill be walkin out if I go
I was just passin through
Must be seven months or more
Ran out of time and money
It looks like they took my friends
Oh, lord, stuck in lodi again
Well the man from the magazine
He said I was on my way
Somewhere I lost connection and
Ran out of songs to play
I came into town on a one-night stand
Looks like my plans fell through
Oh, lord, stuck in lodi again
If I only had a dollar
For every song Ive sung
And every time Ive had to play
While people sat there drunk
You know Id catch the next train
Back to where I live
Oh, lord, stuck in lodi again
Oh, lord, stuck in lodi again
Oh lord stuck in lodi again
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jus Primae Noctis
(In medieval times, the right of the
Lord of the Manor to spend the first night
with a peasant's bride) .
John and Jayne at the altar stood,
To put up their wedding banns,
In the Church at Haversham, Holy Cross
On Sir Robert de Courcy's lands,
When a clatter of hooves on the cobblestones
Brought dread to the open door,
As the Lord of the Manor came striding in
And planted his feet on the floor.
He looked at the two with a great disdain,
His hand on his scabbard sword,
His knights stood silent across the nave,
Not one would utter a word.
His voice rang out in that hallowed place
As Jayne cowered down, distress'd,
'I come to claim the Lord's First Right
By the power jus primae noctis.'
He strolled so arrogant down the aisle,
Of the Hereford Village Kirk,
Then drew his sword with a wicked smile,
With the tip of it, lifted her skirt,
'Her legs are fine, I can tell you that, '
He said to John with a sneer,
But John had averted his eyes to the floor
As his eyes were beginning to tear.
De Courcy turned, and he walked away
Up the aisle to the Norman doors,
Then turned at last with a final command
That would end their short discourse,
'You'll place yourself at my mercy, then,
And leave your husband denied,
You'll make your way to the castle gate
On the night that the knot is tied! '
John had cursed as they rode away,
The priest was more reserved,
'You should think it an honour, young man, ' he said,
That your bride will be well served.
With luck, you may get a blue-blood son,
And honours will come his way,
Sir Robert has twenty or more in the town
That are blessed in the usual way.'
Jayne knew, of course, it would come to this,
She had seen with her sister Jone,
Carried away to the castle gate,
And weep all the way back home.
She'd watched her belly grow big with child
While her man had cursed and sworn,
'Til the day she lay on a bale of hay
As the child arrived, still-born.
Meanwhile, in Bristol, came a ship
That had sailed from Gascony,
Dropping a sickening sailor there
With its wines and its armoury,
The sailor staggered up streets outside,
And fell in the tavern door,
Infected all that were drinking there,
As the pestilence came ashore.
It spread at the rate of a raging fire
That nothing could halt or douse,
The abscesses in the armpits made
Their way from house to house,
The plague ran on through the countryside
And arrived at Haversham,
On the day of the wedding of John and Jayne
Though they didn't know it then.
There was just one victim on that day,
A woman who stayed at home,
She watched as her flesh grew puffy, as
The boils grew down below,
She sent a note to her sister, said
'I'll not be there at the feast,
But I have a gift I'll give to you,
It's the least I can do... the least! '
That evening, out by the castle gate
A woman was led inside,
De Courcy sat in the dark, and watched
As she knelt by the Lord's bedside,
She knelt in shadows, and then she wept
And he watched as she disrobed,
Then stood quite naked beside his bed
For the lord to touch and probe.
He pulled her onto the bed and grasped her
Close to his body there,
And then she laughed, it was not the laugh
Of a bride caught in despair,
The moon shone bright through the chamber then
And he shrank from the woman's moan,
She was covered in blood and pustules, said:
'Not Jayne - but her sister Jone! '
He screamed for his knights, who pulled her off,
Then spilt her blood on the floor,
Cut off her head, then shrank in dread
At the sight of her festering sores,
The plague ran right through the castle then,
Spared not one knight or horse,
While John and Jayne in the forest lay
Til the plague had run its course.
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Spinster At Mass
She came in dressed
in the robe of a mayoress
Her hair, curly and golden
Like that of a Roman goddess
She looked round
Her eyes, large and round
Like that of a fancy bulb.
With them she me espied
In a corner under a deck
of this unnamed Church.
Behold, here's a Pandora
at mass,
As she passed;
Not even the parson
could bypass,
He stood there like a dead
wood and stared and stared
Till his eye balls fell
from its sockets
We stared and stared
And still we stood there
and stared
Till our piety fell.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trouble In Mind
by Bob Dylan
I got to know, Lord, when to pull back on the reins,
Death can be the result of the most underrated pain.
Satan whispers to ya, "Well, I don't want to bore ya,
But when ya get tired of the Miss So-and-so I got another woman for ya."
Trouble in mind, Lord, trouble in mind,
Lord, take away this trouble in mind.
When the deeds that you do don't add up to zero,
It's what's inside that counts, ask any war hero.
You think you can hide but you're never alone,
Ask Lot what he thought when his wife turned to stone.
Trouble in mind, Lord, trouble in mind,
Lord, take away this trouble in mind.
Here comes Satan, prince of the power of the air,
He's gonna make you a law unto yourself, gonna build a bird's nest in your hair.
He's gonna deaden your conscience 'til you worship the work of your own hands,
You'll be serving strangers in a strange, forsaken land.
Trouble in mind, Lord, trouble in mind,
Lord, take away this trouble in mind.
Well, your true love has caught you where you don't belong,
You say, "Baby, everybody's doing it so I guess it can't be wrong."
The truth is far from you, so you know you got to lie,
Then you're all the time defending what you can never justify.
Trouble in mind, Lord, trouble in mind,
Lord, take away this trouble in mind.
So many of my brothers, they still want to be the boss,
They can't relate to the Lord's kingdom, they can't relate to the cross.
They self-inflict punishment on their own broken lives,
Put their faith in their possessions, in their jobs or their wives.
Trouble in mind, Lord, trouble in mind,
Lord, take away this trouble in mind.
When my life is over, it'll be like a puff of smoke,
How long must I suffer, Lord, how long must I be provoked?
Satan will give you a little taste, then he'll move in with rapid speed,
Lord keep my blind side covered and see that I don't bleed.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stratton Water
“O HAVE you seen the Stratton flood
That's great with rain to-day?
It runs beneath your wall, Lord Sands,
Full of the new-mown hay.
“I led your hounds to Hutton bank
To bathe at early morn:
They got their bath by Borrowbrake
Above the standing corn.”
Out from the castle-stair Lord Sands
Looked up the western lea;
The rook was grieving on her nest,
The flood was round her tree.
Over the castle-wall Lord Sands
Looked down the eastern hill:
The stakes swam free among the boats,
The flood was rising still.
“What's yonder far below that lies
So white against the slope?”
“O it's a sail o' your bonny barks
The waters have washed up.”
“But I have never a sail so white,
And the water's not yet there.”
“O it's the swans o' your bonny lake
The rising flood doth scare.”
“The swans they would not hold so still,
So high they would not win.”
“O it's Joyce my wife has spread her smock
And fears to fetch it in.”
“Nay, knave, it's neither sail nor swans,
Nor aught that you can say;
For though your wife might leave her smock,
Herself she'd bring away.”
Lord Sands has passed the turret-stair,
The court, and yard, and all;
The kine were in the byre that day,
The nags were in the stall.
Lord Sands has won the weltering slope
Whereon the white shape lay:
The clouds were still above the hill,
And the shape was still as they.
Oh pleasant is the gaze of life
And sad is death's blind head;
But awful are the living eyes
In the face of one thought dead!
“In God's name, Janet, is it me
Thy ghost has come to seek?”
“Nay, wait another hour, Lord Sands,—
Be sure my ghost shall speak.”
A moment stood he as a stone,
Then grovelled to his knee.
“O Janet, O my love, my love,
Rise up and come with me!”
“O once before you bade me come,
And it's here you have brought me!
“O many's the sweet word, Lord Sands,
You've spoken oft to me;
But all that I have from you to-day
Is the rain on my body.
“And many's the good gift, Lord Sands,
You've promised oft to me;
But the gift of yours I keep to-day
Is the babe in my body.
“O it's not in any earthly bed
That first my babe I'll see;
For I have brought my body here
That the flood may cover me.”
His face was close against her face,
His hands of hers were fain:
O her wet cheeks were hot with tears,
Her wet hands cold with rain.
“They told me you were dead, Janet,—
How could I guess the lie?”
“They told me you were false, Lord Sands,—
What could I do but die?”
“Now keep you well, my brother Giles,—
Through you I deemed her dead!
As wan as your towers seem to-day,
To-morrow they'll be red.
“Look down, look down, my false mother,
That bade me not to grieve:
You'll look up when our marriage fires
Are lit to-morrow eve:
“O more than one and more than two
The sorrow of this shall see:
But it's to-morrow, love, for them,—
To-day's for thee and me.”
He's drawn her face between his hands
And her pale mouth to his:
No bird that was so still that day
Chirps sweeter than his kiss.
The flood was creeping round their feet.
“O Janet, come away!
The hall is warm for the marriage-rite,
The bed for the birthday.”
“Nay, but I hear your mother cry,
‘Go bring this bride to bed!
And would she christen her babe unborn,
So wet she comes to wed?’
“I'll be your wife to cross your door
And meet your mother's e'e.
We plighted troth to wed i' the kirk,
And it's there you'll wed with me.”
He's ta'en her by the short girdle
And by the dripping sleeve:
“Go fetch Sir Jock my mother's priest,—
You'll ask of him no leave.
“O it's one half-hour to reach the kirk
And one for the marriage-rite;
And kirk and castle and castle-lands
Shall be our babe's to-night.”
“The flood's in the kirkyard, Lord Sands,
And round the belfry-stair.”
“I bade you fetch the priest,” he said,
“Myself shall bring him there.
“It's for the lilt of wedding bells
We'll have the hail to pour,
And for the clink of bridle-reins
The plashing of the oar.”
Beneath them on the nether hill
A boat was floating wide:
Lord Sands swam out and caught the oars
And rowed to the hill-side.
He's wrapped her in a green mantle
And set her softly in;
Her hair was wet upon her face,
Her face was grey and thin;
And “Oh!” she said, “lie still, my babe,
It's out you must not win!”
But woe's my heart for Father John
As hard as he might pray,
There seemed no help but Noah's ark
Or Jonah's fish that day.
The first strokes that the oars struck
Were over the broad leas;
The next strokes that the oars struck
They pushed beneath the trees;
The last stroke that the oars struck,
The good boat's head was met,
And there the gate of the kirk-yard
Stood like a ferry-gate.
He's set his hand upon the bar
And lightly leaped within:
He's lifted her to his left shoulder,
Her knees beside his chin.
The graves lay deep beneath the flood
Under the rain alone;
And when the foot-stone made him slip,
He held by the head-stone.
The empty boat thrawed i' the wind,
Against the postern tied.
“Hold still, you've brought my love with me,
You shall take back my bride.”
But woe's my heart for Father John
And the saints he clamoured to!
There's never a saint but Christopher
Might hale such buttocks through!
And “Oh!” she said, “on men's shoulders
I well had thought to wend,
And well to travel with a priest,
But not to have cared or ken'd.
“And oh!” she said, “it's well this way
That I thought to have fared,—
Not to have lighted at the kirk
But stopped in the kirkyard.
“For it's oh and oh I prayed to God,
Whose rest I hoped to win,
That when to-night at your board-head
You'd bid the feast begin,
This water past your window-sill
Might bear my body in.”
Now make the white bed warm and soft
And greet the merry morn;
The night the mother should have died,
The young son shall be born.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Trust In You Lord
Whenever I feel alone in this world
I trust in you lord
Whenever I feel no one cares me
I trust in you lord
Whenever I ashamed in front of others
I trust in you lord
Whenever my situations change so bad
I trust in you lord
Whenever my eyes cannot accommodate my tears
I trust in you lord
Whenever I become financially dreadful
I trust in you lord
Whenever I cannot shout like others
I trust in you lord
Whenever people close their eyes towards me
I trust in you lord
Whenever I cannot take any decisions
I trust in you lord
Whenever I feel myself despicable
I trust in you lord
Whenever I know nothing in my hand for tomorrow
I trust in you lord
Whenever I lose my all hope
I trust in you lord
Whenever my dreams aren't come true
I trust in you lord
Whenever I go through failure
I trust in you lord
Whenever my friends become ascendant than me
I trust in you lord
Whenever I feel I can't be in faith any more
I trust in you lord
poem by Aswathi Asok
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Surrender
Yeah I know, y'know, what a calling is
I mean we all have a calling in our life, I believe
You know I'm from the dirt man
I come up in these streets, went without eatin', you know what I'm sayin'?
Saw my Mom go without eatin'
I got tired of that I had to go out there
In them streets and hustle, you know?
I mean you know what I'm sayin'?
I mean it's easy for y'all to say, y'know (I surrender)
Surrender your life, you know what I'm sayin'? (I surrender)
Give your life to God and all that
Y'know, that's good and I believe in God (I surrender to you Lord)
But when you got bills at your front door all the time
You know what I'm sayin'?
Kids screamin' "Daddy, Momma, where the food at?" (I surrender)
Man it makes it kinda hard to believe in (I surrender)
Y'know, and have faith in something that you can't see (I surrender to your Lord)
Even though you wanna believe
Y'all just gonna have to just pray for me
You know what I'm sayin'? 'Cause uh...
Constantly my mind and my heart is racing (yeah)
All by myself trying to solve all these problems I'm facing (oh yeah)
Looking to man trying to find hope (uh-huh)
But man will never know the depth of my struggles (oh)
I was depending on myself (on myself)
To give myself a hand (wow but)
But when depending on myself (I...)
Fell time again (that's why)
And that's why I'm standing here alone (all alone)
With no one else
Lord I realised that I can't fight these battles by myself
I surrender
I surrender (oh I)
I surrender to you Lord
I surrender
I surrender (oh I)
I surrender to you Lord
I surrender (I surrender)
I surrender (Lord to you)
I surrender to you Lord
Coming out with both hands up
I surrender (uhh)
Listen...
I tried everything I could to make it work (mmm-hmm)
But everything I seemed to try just made it worse (ohh)
And every road that I'd go down there were no signs (signs)
Destination lonely with no peace of mind (yeah, ohh)
I was depending on myself (on myself)
To give myself a hand (but when)
But when depending on myself (I would fell time and time again)
Fell time again (that's why)
And that's why I'm standing here alone (standing all alone)
With no one else
Lord I realised that I can't fight these battles by myself
I surrender
I surrender
I surrender (oh I surrender)
I surrender to you Lord (said I surrender)
I surrender (ohh I)
I surrender (surrender)
I surrender to you Lord (I done tried everything and now I)
I surrender (surrender yeah)
I surrender (to you Lord)
I surrender to you Lord
Coming out with both hands up
I surrender (ohh)
Won't you guard the place around it
(There's no where for me to go)
Joy I have tried to find (whoo)
(See I've searched high and I've searched low)
Said you walked throughout the building
So come and rescue me from this hell
'Cause I can't do it by myself (I can't do it... by myself)
I surrender (hey I surrender)
I surrender (ohh) (I surrender)
I surrender to you Lord (I surrender) (I surrender... to you Lord) (yes I do)
I surrender (I surrender) (I surrender) (to you)
I surrender (yeah)
I surrender to you Lord ('cause I'm sick and tired of going through)
I surrender (I need your help) (need your help)
I surrender (to find my may) (to find my way)
I surrender to you Lord (I'm here and willing) (here and willing) (to make a change) (make a change, yeah)
I surrender (I surrender all my darkness) (hey) (I surrender)
I surrender (now you give me your light) (yes sir) (I surrender)
I surrender to you Lord (I surrender all my wrongs) (yes I do) (and Lord you make it right) (make it right) (I surrender)
I surrender (I surrender my situation) (I surrender) (I surrender)
I surrender (and Lord fix it for me) (fix it for me) (I surrender)
I surrender to you Lord (no more hesitation) (hey) (here I am on my knees) (I surrender)
I surrender (I surrender) (I surrender) (I surrender)
I surrender (I surrender) (I surrender) (I surrender)
I surrender to you Lord (I surrender) (I surrender) (whoo, hey) (I surrender)
I surrender (I surrender my self, my house, my kids, my wife) (yeah) (I surrender)
I surrender (my dog, my car, my love, my life) (yes sir) (I surrender)
I surrender to you Lord (Lord I surrender my soul) (oh-ho) (I surrender)
I surrender (you have got complete control) (haha) (I surrender)
I surrender (of the situation) (I surrender)
I surrender to you Lord...
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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