Howard At Atlanta
RIGHT in the track where Sherman
Ploughed his red furrow,
Out of the narrow cabin,
Up from the cellar's burrow,
Gathered the little black people,
With freedom newly dowered,
Where, beside their Northern teacher,
Stood the soldier, Howard.
He listened and heard the children
Of the poor and long-enslavëd
Reading the words of Jesus,
Singing the songs of David.
Behold! —the dumb lips speaking,
The blind eyes seeing!
Bones of the Prophet's vision
Warmed into being!
Transformed he saw them passing
Their new life's portal!
Almost it seemed the mortal
Put on the immortal.
No more with the beasts of burden,
No more with stone and clod,
But crowned with glory and honor
In the image of God!
There was the human chattel
Its manhood taking;
There, in each dark, brown statue,
A soul was waking!
The man of many battles,
With tears his eyelids pressing,
Stretched over those dusky foreheads
His one-armed blessing.
And he said: 'Who hears can never
Fear for or doubt you;
What shall I tell the children
Up North about you?'
Then ran round a whisper, a murmur,
Some answer devising;
And a little boy stood up: 'General,
Tell'em we're rising!'
O black boy of Atlanta!
But half was spoken:
The slave's chain and the master's
Alike are broken.
The one curse of the races
Held both in tether:
They are rising, — all are rising,
The black and white together!
O brave men and fair women!
Ill comes of hate and scorning:
Shall the dark faces only
Be turned to morning? —
Make Time your sole avenger,
All-healing, all-redressing;
Meet Fate half-way, and make it
A joy and blessing!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Rising
Cant see nothin in front of me
Cant see nothin coming up behind
I make my way through this darkness
I cant feel nothing but this chain that binds me
Lost track of how far Ive gone
How far Ive gone, how high Ive climbed
On my backs a sixty pound stone
On my shoulder a half mile of line
Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight
Left the house this morning
Bells ringing filled the air
Wearin the cross of my calling
On wheels of fire I come rollin down here
Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight
Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li
Theres spirits above and behind me
Faces gone black, eyes burnin bright
May their precious blood bind me
Lord, as I stand before your fiery light
Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li
I see you mary in the garden
In the garden of a thousand sighs
Theres holy pictures of our children
Dancin in a sky filled with light
May I feel your arms around me
May I feel your blood mix with mine
A dream of life comes to me
Like a catfish dancin on the end of my line
Sky of blackness and sorrow ( a dream of life)
Sky of love, sky of tears (a dream of life)
Sky of glory and sadness ( a dream of life)
Sky of mercy, sky of fear ( a dream of life)
Sky of memory and shadow ( a dream of life)
Your burnin wind fills my arms tonight
Sky of longing and emptiness (a dream of life)
Sky of fullness, sky of blessed life
Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight
Li,li, li,li,li,li, li,li,li
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The children in black
The children in black
Where did their childhoods go
Trailing water behind
How did they become this cynical
They write words of hate
Tears of joy is no longer a term for them
How can they be so small
But hate so much
The children in black
The children in black
What happened to happiness
Are they that controlled
That everything can effect them
Don't they have the right to laugh
Why are their eyes this guarded
Does everything have to be that formal
What happened to innocence
Did it go away with the faith
The children in black
The children in black
I can see the bitterness
Can't you see the ugly truth
Bitter minds already got their minds trained
So why are children so dark
Is there that much pain
The children in black
The children in black
What happened to be open minded
Did it close like a door
Only opening for a few
Is this society that negative
That they can't see the light
What happened to love
Loving parents and friends
It must have went away
The children in black
The children in black
Their hate scares me
Their eyes make me grimace
With thier hate they can stop the world
But how is that possible when they are so young
Are their minds that easy to twist
The children in black
The children in black
I hope they will soon see the light
I don't know if it's normal to be afraid
But that's what I feel
Why do most people find it easier to be sad
Do they realize it's not
The children aren't children anymore
They're miny adults trying to impress
Why don't people realize this
Are they that oblivious
Maybe if people opened their eyes we could do something
But until then...
The children in black
poem by Lillie Ellis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Children Of The Sea
In the misty morning, on the edge of time
Weve lost the rising sun, a final sign
As the misty morning rolls away to die
Reaching for the stars, we blind the sky
We sailed across the air before we learned to fly
We thought that it could never end
Wed glide above the ground before we learned to run, run
Now it seems our world has come undone
Oh they say that its over
And it just had to be
Ooh they say that its over
Were lost children of the sea, oh
We made the mountains shake with laughter as we played
Hiding in our corner of the world
Then we did the demon dance and rushed to nevermore
Threw away the key and locked the door
Oh they say that its over, yeah
And it just had to be
Yes they say that its over
Were lost children of the sea
In the misty morning, on the edge of time
Weve lost the rising sun, a final sign
As the misty morning rolls away to die
Reaching for the stars, we blind the sky
Oh they say that its over, yeah
And it just had to be
Oh they say that its over
Poor lost children of the sea, yeah
Look out! the sky is falling down!
Look out! the world is spinning round and round and round!
Look out! the sun is going black, black
Look out! its never never never coming back, look out!
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Moon
Oh the devil is rising with the moon
He cries and my blood runs cold.
Oh no never was the darkness so black,
No light and nowhere to go.
My spirit is crying for a love
So tired of being alone.
I remember he came here to steal,
And you are his stealer of souls.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Oh its calling my name.
Ive been blinded, lost and confused,
Darkness will call me no more.
Heaven is no friend of mine,
No God ever knocked on my door.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Oh its calling my name.
Im standing on the dark side of time
Reaching for the power of her hand.
Shes weaving an unholy light
And calls from lucifers land.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
An angel of hell is rising,
Heavens no friend of mine.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name,
I see a black moon rising,
And it causes so much pain.
An angel of hell is rising,
Heavens no friend of mine.
I see a black moon rising,
And its calling out my name.
Its calling my name,
This spirits crying for love.
Heavens no friend of mine.
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Power Of Thy Sword
Lord of battle I pray on bended knee conquest by the rising sun
I'll wait for thy command with flame and blood at hand
glory and a broken sword.
I'm the master of the world I have no fear of man or beast
Born inside the soul of the world
Riding hard breaking bone with steel and stone
Eternal might I was born to wield.
Let us drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Drink to the battles we've lived and we've fought
Celebrate the pain and havoc we have wrought
Great heroes charge into the fight
From the north to the south in the black of night
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
The clash of honor calls
I will stand when others fall
Open magic doors
The will know the power of my sword
There is blood in my hands there is blood in my eyes
With blood in my voice I scream as you die
Thirsting for vengeance and mounds of the slain
Shaking the forest onto the plain
Fierce is my blade fierce is my hate born to die in battle
I laugh at my fate
Now pay in blood when your blood has been spilled
You're never forgiven death is fulfilled !
The clash of honor calls to stand when others fall
Gods of war feel the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
Know the power of my sword
They will know the power of my sword
song performed by by Manowar from The Triumph Of Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ken
The town is old and very steep
A place of bells and cloisters and grey towers,
And black-clad people walking in their sleep—
A nun, a priest, a woman taking flowers
To her new grave; and watched from end to end
By the great Church above, through the still hours:
But in the morning and the early dark
The children wake to dart from doors and call
Down the wide, crooked street, where, at the bend,
Before it climbs up to the park,
Ken's is in the gabled house facing the Castle wall.
When first I came upon him there
Suddenly, on the half-lit stair,
I think I hardly found a trace
Of likeness to a human face
In his. And I said then
If in His image God made men,
Some other must have made poor Ken—
But for his eyes which looked at you
As two red, wounded stars might do.
He scarcely spoke, you scarcely heard,
His voice broke off in little jars
To tears sometimes. An uncouth bird
He seemed as he ploughed up the street,
Groping, with knarred, high-lifted feet
And arms thrust out as if to beat
Always against a threat of bars.
And oftener than not there'd be
A child just higher than his knee
Trotting beside him. Through his dim
Long twilight this, at least, shone clear,
That all the children and the deer,
Whom every day he went to see
Out in the park, belonged to him.
"God help the folk that next him sits
He fidgets so, with his poor wits,"
The neighbours said on Sunday nights
When he would go to Church to "see the lights!"
Although for these he used to fix
His eyes upon a crucifix
In a dark corner, staring on
Till everybody else had gone.
And sometimes, in his evil fits,
You could not move him from his chair—
You did not look at him as he sat there,
Biting his rosary to bits.
While pointing to the Christ he tried to say,
"Take it away".
Nothing was dead:
He said "a bird" if he picked up a broken wing,
A perished leaf or any such thing
Was just "a rose"; and once when I had said
He must not stand and knock there any more,
He left a twig on the mat outside my door.
Not long ago
The last thrush stiffened in the snow,
While black against a sullen sky
The sighing pines stood by.
But now the wind has left our rattled pane
To flutter the hedge-sparrow's wing,
The birches in the wood are red again
And only yesterday
The larks went up a little way to sing
What lovers say
Who loiter in the lanes to-day;
The buds begin to talk of May
With learned rooks on city trees,
And if God please
With all of these
We, too, shall see another Spring.
But in that red brick barn upon the hill
I wonder—can one own the deer,
And does one walk with children still
As one did here?
Do roses grow
Beneath those twenty windows in a row—
And if some night
When you have not seen any light
They cannot move you from your chair
What happens there?
I do not know.
So, when they took
Ken to that place, I did not look
After he called and turned on me
His eyes. These I shall see—
poem by Charlotte Mary Mew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gayas Eyes
Gayas crying, cant you hear her crying
Like a whisper, oh so very soft and low
If you listen, underneath the status quo
Will she still be friends and once again
Pardon our ignorance?
Can we make ammends so near the end?
Is there no second chance?
No one hears when gaya cries
No one cares to wonder why
Cant they see the tears in gayas eyes?
Gayas crying (yes she is)
Selfish children, greedy little children
Took her loving and gave her nothing in return
Like invaders, everything is slash and burn
Count up every face and every race
That we will never see
Count the human ache we cant escape
The tears are for you and me
As her lovely green eyes
Turn black
And her pretty blue dress
Turn black
And her gentle red lips
Turn black
Everything that she has
Turn black
And is it too late?
Turn back
Is it too late?
Turn back
Is it too late?
No facts of life, no birds and bees
Cant see the forest, cant see the trees
Oh pitiful capricious lies
That hide the tears in gayas eyes
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Moon Rising
(whispered: some people like that
Some people like that
Some people like that)
Come on all my people, come one and all, one and all
If you want all your people right there right then
Your better ladys dead and theyre appalled
And theyre appalled
Come into my palace, come and see my hollow walls
The servants crawl
Its gonna be a blue moon rising, rising one and all
Some people like that
Gonna get them with your money, all that shines gets polished bald
Could not enthral
Gonna get them like a tweedledee or a tweedledum
The classiest sales pitch aint an equal sum
It aint gonna be fun
Come into my dreamworld, a simple smile not a loaded gun
Just a shine in the sun
Its gonna be a blue moon rising, rising one and all, all alone
Some people like that
Some people like that
Some people like that
Then some people are like children in the moonlight, aa-ooh
Then some people are like children in the moonlight, aa-ooh
Then some people are like children in the moonlight, aa-ooh
Then some people are like children in the moonlight, aa-ooh
Its gonna be a blue moon rising, rising one and all, one and all
Its gonna be a blue moon rising, rising one and all
Some people like that
Some people like that
Some people like that (repeat to end)
(ben: blue moon rising
Blue moon rising)
song performed by by Gomez
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daybreak in Alabama
When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I'm gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I
Get to be a composer
And write about daybreak
In Alabama.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heart Of Stone
A broken wing, and a broken bone
Of a bird, that met a stone
Lied helpless And was bit despair
Looked above If god was there.
Short of food And short of breath
Was silently waiting For his death
Asked his wings If they could fly.
Yes they said why don't you try
He gathered his strength and wiped his tears.
And soon he stood Without his fears
His eyes stared at the Dark blue sky
But just then when he was about to fly
they grabbed his neck they grabbed it hard
with all his strength he could move a yard
and yes those hands did hurt his bone
he had met a heart of stone
some ugly hands and a beautiful bird.
He cried for help But no one heard.
His wings were flawed And his muscles were stiff.
He begged them to throw him off a cliff
oh dumb bird, don't you get,
look at you, it's a stone you met.
To this, the half dead bird replied
So what, if I die
Just for once I ll meet the air.
And also see if god was there.
Stories of wisdom, that were once told
But now this world had been so cold.
He wished if those blind eyes could see.
The bird was dead though his soul was free.
poem by Kanav Justa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Time Has Come...
The vicar went to the valley,
A mountain on either side,
He built a small log cabin
To comfort his future bride,
The wind between the mountains
Brought echoes of far-off plains,
More often than not in the heart of the night,
Someone called his name.
The voice was sometimes muffled,
The voice, it sometimes screamed,
Whole sentences were chanted
Broke in on the vicar's dreams,
The sounds were like a mirage
Half heard from a distant town,
Whenever the wind would begin to rise
He heard the strangest sounds.
A tap-tap-tap in the morning,
A tap-tap-tap at night,
As if someone was typing
Up on the mountain's height,
The rhythm was pervasive
As it typed some ancient log,
He heard the words: 'The quick brown fox
Jumps over the lazy dog.'
He ran from out of the cabin
And scanned the dusty plain,
His trusty dog was lying
Asleep on the track again,
When out from the brittle bushes
Aside of the narrow track,
A quick brown fox with a startled look,
Jumped over his old Ridge-back.
The vicar ran to the cabin
And fell on his knees in prayer,
What are you trying to tell me, lord,
That you're really, really there?
I thought you were, but I wasn't sure,
It'll take some getting used to!
A voice intoned: 'England expects
Each man to do his duty! '
The vicar jumped up off his knees
And praised the lord again,
You've saved my very soul, my lord,
From Hell, and the pits of pain,
I'd thought that God was mine alone,
And not for everyone,
But now I find - and it blows my mind;
'God is an Englishman! '
The wind was slowly rising,
It whined and whooped and roared,
It swooped along the valley,
Came in at the cabin door,
The vicar, sleeping restlessly
Heard everything, hale and hearty:
'The time has come for all good men
To come to the aid of the party.'
The vicar's not been seen of late
He's busy, light and dark,
With hammer, nails, and canvas sails
He's building himself an Ark,
While in a tiny township that
Lies hidden in mountain haze,
A typing teacher has just locked up,
And gone on his holidays.
12 April 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lady Wore Black
On a lonely walk this morning
A light mist in the air
Dark clouds laughing at me in silence
Casting shadows through my hair
In the distance I saw a woman
Dressed in black with eyes of grey
She wore her pain like a shackled spirit
Eternal life was her debt to pay
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
The wind song whispered a warning
Telling me to beware
Of the quiet shadowed woman
And of the sadness I would share
We sat together for sometime together in silence
Never speaking in words
Of all her thoughts she spoke with her eyes
And I listened remembering all I heard
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
The words she spoke were of forgotten lives
And of all knowledge gained
Memries I had and didnt know why
With a smile she explained
I should have listened to the winds cold warning
And walked the other way
I touched her soul and now I bear her sentence
But for her love Ill gladly pay
The lady wore black
Its the sign of the prisoners lives
The lady wore black
See the years through the tears in her eyes
The lady wore black
Her mystic power calls to me
The lady wore black
Her love can set me free
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I could die inside your black eyes
You who walked up
From the remnants of lifetime wars
You who exonerates the
Disciplines of the Eastern
Land of Morning, Sun-rising
The only man whose feet
I have ever wanted to kiss,
My Dancer, Teacher, Lover
I could die inside your black eyes
Faultless beauty
Man-beautiful.
Teach me to be the lotus
In your sky, a flower
In your hand
Your Morning, Sun-rising
And I will yield
A thousand jeweled petals
For your every smile
My Dancer, Teacher, Lover
I could die inside your black eyes
Faultless beauty
Man-beautiful...
poem by Míchealín Daugherty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter Solstice
When you startle awake in the dark morning
heart pounding breathing fast
sitting bolt upright staring into
dark whirlpool black hole
feeling its suction
Get out of bed
knock at the door of your nearest friend
ask to lie down ask to be held
Listen while whispered words
turn the hole into deep night sky
stars close together
winter moon rising over white fields
nearby wren rustling dry leaves
distant owl echoing
two people walking up the road laughing
Let your soul laugh
let your heart sigh out
that long held breath so hollow in your stomach
so swollen in your throat
Already light is returning pairs of wings
lift softly off your eyelids one by one
each feathered edge clearer between you
and the pearl veil of day
You have nothing to do but live
New Hampshire
GOD bless New Hampshire! from her granite peaks
Once more the voice of Stark and Langdon speaks.
The long-bound vassal of the exulting South
For very shame her self-forged chain has broken;
Turn the black seal of slavery from her mouth,
And in the clear tones of her old time spoken!
Oh, all undreamed-of, all unhoped for changes!
The tyrants's ally proves his sternest foe;
To all his biddings, from her mountain ranges,
New Hampshire thunders an indignant No!
Who is it now despairs? Oh, faint of heart,
Look upward to those Northern mountain cold,
Flouted by Freedom's victor-flag unrolled
And gather strength to bear a manlier part!
All is not lost. The angel of God's blessing
Encamps with Freedom on the field of fight;
Still to her banner, day by day, are pressing,
Unlooked-for allies, striking for the right!
Courage, then, Northern hearts! Be firm, be true:
What one brave State hath done, can ye not also do?
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter Solstice
When you startle awake in the dark morning
heart pounding breathing fast
sitting bolt upright staring into
dark whirlpool black hole
feeling its suction
Get out of bed
knock at the door of your nearest friend
ask to lie down ask to be held
Listen while whispered words
turn the hole into deep night sky
stars close together
winter moon rising over white fields
nearby wren rustling dry leaves
distant owl echoing
two people walking up the road laughing
Let your soul laugh
let your heart sigh out
that long held breath so hollow in your stomach
so swollen in your throat
Already light is returning pairs of wings
lift softly off your eyelids one by one
each feathered edge clearer between you
and the pearl veil of day
You have nothing to do but live
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Statue of Liberty
the statue of liberty,
it's either black or white
depends on who you are.
it turned quite black
years ago but refurbished
to look brand new, of course
the last thing it should do
is turn black.
the hackneyed mushy
writings about the relief
our ancestors heaved
while reaching america's shores
upon seeing this statue
is a white lie.
the only thing if at all,
the liberty statue
has come to anything is
that it is still trying hard
to stand up for what it is
- to stand tall in the darkest hours
and the broadest daylight.
its torch is marble and never really meant
to illuminate right from wrong.
it wept silent tears over the mockeries
heaped upon him, that it was the first to greet rusty chains, shackles, corpses...
and skin-covered starved and
all human indignities day in and day out
when it was installed.
amid these, the white angels to the
new land claimed for freedom laughed
and perpetrated similar injustices
that fuelled their flight.
america's freedom has always lay
in the hearts of sincere americans - black or white.
our statue needs a real torch and flame
to brighten up those corners of our hearts that we have kept dark.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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O Black And Unknown Bards
O black and unknown bards of long ago,
How came your lips to touch the sacred fire?
How, in your darkness, did you come to know
The power and beauty of the minstrel's lyre?
Who first from midst his bonds lifted his eyes?
Who first from out the still watch, lone and long,
Feeling the ancient faith of prophets rise
Within his dark-kept soul, burst into song?
Heart of what slave poured out such melody
As 'Steal away to Jesus'? On its strains
His spirit must have nightly floated free,
Though still about his hands he felt his chains.
Who heard great 'Jordan roll'? Whose starward eye
Saw chariot 'swing low'? And who was he
That breathed that comforting, melodic sigh,
'Nobody knows de trouble I see'?
What merely living clod, what captive thing,
Could up toward God through all its darkness grope,
And find within its deadened heart to sing
These songs of sorrow, love and faith, and hope?
How did it catch that subtle undertone,
That note in music heard not with the ears?
How sound the elusive reed so seldom blown,
Which stirs the soul or melts the heart to tears.
Not that great German master in his dream
Of harmonies that thundered amongst the stars
At the creation, ever heard a theme
Nobler than 'Go down, Moses.' Mark its bars
How like a mighty trumpet-call they stir
The blood. Such are the notes that men have sung
Going to valorous deeds; such tones there were
That helped make history when Time was young.
There is a wide, wide wonder in it all,
That from degraded rest and servile toil
The fiery spirit of the seer should call
These simple children of the sun and soil.
O black slave singers, gone, forgot, unfamed,
You - you alone, of all the long, long line
Of those who've sung untaught, unknown, unnamed,
Have stretched out upward, seeking the divine.
You sang not deeds of heroes or of kings;
No chant of bloody war, no exulting pean
Of arms-won triumphs; but your humble strings
You touched in chord with music empyrean.
You sting far better than you knew; the songs
That for your listeners' hungry hearts sufficed
Still live, - but more than this to you belongs:
You sang a race from wood and stone to Christ.
poem by James Weldon Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Broken Arrow
The lights turned on and the curtain fell down,
And when it was over it felt like a dream,
They stood at the stage door and begged for a scream,
The agents had paid for the black limousine
That waited outside in the rain.
Did you see them, did you see them?
Did you see them in the river?
They were there to wave to you.
Could you tell that the empty quivered,
Brown skinned indian on the banks
That were crowded and narrow,
Held a broken arrow?
Eighteen years of american dream,
He saw that his brother had sworn on the wall.
He hung up his eyelids and ran down the hall,
His mother had told him a trip was a fall,
And dont mention babies at all.
Did you see him, did you see him?
Did you see him in the river?
He were there to wave to you.
Could you tell that the empty quivered,
Brown skinned indian on the banks
That were crowded and narrow,
Held a broken arrow?
The streets were lined for the wedding parade,
The queen wore the white gloves, the county of song,
The black covered caisson her horses had drawn
Protected her king from the sun rays of dawn.
They married for peace and were gone.
Did you see them, did you see them?
Did you see them in the river?
They were there to wave to you.
Could you tell that the empty quivered,
Brown skinned indian on the banks
That were crowded and narrow,
Held a broken arrow?
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You, the Dark
Dark, She is the mind of yours.
Icy chill of thought becomes
A steely shimmer.
Behold a glimmer in the black -
A flash of grey, that even glows
In show against the hallowed dark of you.
And that is why you scream in jarring tones
'I have no heart for joy!
My white and brittle bones have died'
You cried in dark and fractured moans.
So now the Queen of Black you writhe,
Whence from dark of shade
That honed an evil form afar;
In curse of me you bade:
'I, the wave shall rape the shore!
Violence will there be in glares I'll throw
At all who prey, and more:
A dark and fetid sea I'll bleed.'
And now, the bitter tinge
And bleak of waste
That eyed the death of once your soul
Will here forever be!
Indeed you tell:
'The cramping pain is here!
Eternal spasm, infinite chasm,
The Devil's chaplain plays!
We'll climax in a tortured glee
As all my love decays.'
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Dark dark dark dark dark dark dark
Dark dark dark dark dark dark
Dark dark dark dark dark
Dark dark dark dark
Dark dark dark
Dark dark dark dark dark
dark dark dark dark dark dark dark darkdarkdarkdark
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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