There is this thing called "desertion".
Omg, talk about not posting anything for ages. XD
So, today, I remembered I still had a ~working~ lj account. Also today, I came across a draft in my "edit entries" page. Oh, and today, I post this.
For tomorrow, I shall face the CLE chapter test. :>
--
This is another poem, and it's a bit of a letdown, in my opinion, compared to The Jester and His Girl, which I still consider to be my greatest work. However, without the pressure of comparison, I guess it's "okay". Once I get around to digging this up a couple of years from now, I might rewrite some things, but for now, it's fine. Acceptable. Okay. Enjoy~
--
LITANY
By the river, he sits, quietly so,
hand running through the water, to and fro--
when out of the woods comes a silent whisper,
a voice so soft, and it says "come hither".
He looks up, and the daylight shines through his eyes,
asks who it is, though he thinks it unwise.
He looks left and right, but there is no one in sight;
nothing appears out in broad daylight.
Perhaps a product of my imagination,
he thinks to himself as a sort of intuition.
Looking back at the river, however, he sees
a figure that brings him up to his knees.
He bellows:
"Lo and behold!
The beauty she holds!
Silver and gold!
Brilliant and bold!
Lo and behold!
Oh, lo and behold!"
A woman so pretty, as pretty as jewels;
white skin, white hair, and eyes like blue pools.
She is everything and nothing, fragrant as thyme.
Everything and Nothing, at the same time.
She wades in the water, in rose-colored rags,
he hopes for a moment she's not one of those hags.
With an arm held out, she drifts closer to him,
her limbs long and thing, her body so slim.
He thinks:
"Lo and behold,
the beauty she holds!
Silver and gold!
Brilliant and bold!
Lo and behold!
Oh, lo and behold!"
In his mind, an anthem, a litany,
Repeated as if in a ceremony.
To recite in his mind is not enough.
He clears his throat, and stifles a cough.
He tells her:
"Lo and behold!
The beauty you hold!
Silver and gold!
Brilliant and bold!
Lo and behold,
Oh, lo and behold!"
Pulls her out of the water as he tells her so;
she says nothing, however, not even an "Oh!"
She smiles, though, and kisses his cheek,
and somewhere inside, he feels oddly weak.
He thinks nothing of it and stares at her;
how could such beauty be possessed by one girl?
So pretty is she, quite like a rose.
He is in love, so in love, this he knows.
Then in one swift motion, she sheds off her dress.
It takes him by surprise, but he is impressed, nonetheless,
of her body, and her curves nonexistent.
It works on him so easily, her enticement.
Not a moment too soon, he sheds off as well
(for whatever reason, though, he cannot tell)
They both lie on the soft, green grass;
she and him, waiting for time to pass.
"Lo and behold.
The beauty you hold.
Silver and gold.
Brilliant and bold.
Lo and behold, my dear.
Lo and behold..."
Holding hands with this angel heaven-sent,
he feels weaker and weaker by the moment.
His skin starts to wrinkle, and his body grows cold.
To this beauty, his soul he has sold.
He turns to her, albeit a little feebly;
she leans in close, and kisses him deeply.
The last thing he sees before his very end
is her face, more radiant than ever, closing in.
--
PS. I suggest you start reading The Umbrella Academy. It's wizard.
So, today, I remembered I still had a ~working~ lj account. Also today, I came across a draft in my "edit entries" page. Oh, and today, I post this.
For tomorrow, I shall face the CLE chapter test. :>
--
This is another poem, and it's a bit of a letdown, in my opinion, compared to The Jester and His Girl, which I still consider to be my greatest work. However, without the pressure of comparison, I guess it's "okay". Once I get around to digging this up a couple of years from now, I might rewrite some things, but for now, it's fine. Acceptable. Okay. Enjoy~
--
LITANY
By the river, he sits, quietly so,
hand running through the water, to and fro--
when out of the woods comes a silent whisper,
a voice so soft, and it says "come hither".
He looks up, and the daylight shines through his eyes,
asks who it is, though he thinks it unwise.
He looks left and right, but there is no one in sight;
nothing appears out in broad daylight.
Perhaps a product of my imagination,
he thinks to himself as a sort of intuition.
Looking back at the river, however, he sees
a figure that brings him up to his knees.
He bellows:
"Lo and behold!
The beauty she holds!
Silver and gold!
Brilliant and bold!
Lo and behold!
Oh, lo and behold!"
A woman so pretty, as pretty as jewels;
white skin, white hair, and eyes like blue pools.
She is everything and nothing, fragrant as thyme.
Everything and Nothing, at the same time.
She wades in the water, in rose-colored rags,
he hopes for a moment she's not one of those hags.
With an arm held out, she drifts closer to him,
her limbs long and thing, her body so slim.
He thinks:
"Lo and behold,
the beauty she holds!
Silver and gold!
Brilliant and bold!
Lo and behold!
Oh, lo and behold!"
In his mind, an anthem, a litany,
Repeated as if in a ceremony.
To recite in his mind is not enough.
He clears his throat, and stifles a cough.
He tells her:
"Lo and behold!
The beauty you hold!
Silver and gold!
Brilliant and bold!
Lo and behold,
Oh, lo and behold!"
Pulls her out of the water as he tells her so;
she says nothing, however, not even an "Oh!"
She smiles, though, and kisses his cheek,
and somewhere inside, he feels oddly weak.
He thinks nothing of it and stares at her;
how could such beauty be possessed by one girl?
So pretty is she, quite like a rose.
He is in love, so in love, this he knows.
Then in one swift motion, she sheds off her dress.
It takes him by surprise, but he is impressed, nonetheless,
of her body, and her curves nonexistent.
It works on him so easily, her enticement.
Not a moment too soon, he sheds off as well
(for whatever reason, though, he cannot tell)
They both lie on the soft, green grass;
she and him, waiting for time to pass.
"Lo and behold.
The beauty you hold.
Silver and gold.
Brilliant and bold.
Lo and behold, my dear.
Lo and behold..."
Holding hands with this angel heaven-sent,
he feels weaker and weaker by the moment.
His skin starts to wrinkle, and his body grows cold.
To this beauty, his soul he has sold.
He turns to her, albeit a little feebly;
she leans in close, and kisses him deeply.
The last thing he sees before his very end
is her face, more radiant than ever, closing in.
--
PS. I suggest you start reading The Umbrella Academy. It's wizard.