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Literature Text
Let the old heroes rest
beneath ancient stones
buried in history and dressed in legends.
Let the old kings rise
in marble and gold
for all to see and praise in forgotten stories.
And when time comes
for the legends to breed life
let then the old heroes serve their kings
in ever lasting stories of the golden past.
beneath ancient stones
buried in history and dressed in legends.
Let the old kings rise
in marble and gold
for all to see and praise in forgotten stories.
And when time comes
for the legends to breed life
let then the old heroes serve their kings
in ever lasting stories of the golden past.
Literature
Old Souls
Doc says I’m an old
soul, with my postcards
and letters, and waste-no-words
policy. Doc says old souls still make eye
contact instead of playing with iPhones,
mirrors that stare back, and tell
us who we are by knowing
who they are.
Doc tells me I’m an old
soul in a young body, taming
wild Internets and bringing my words
to heel like a triple score
in a game of Scrabble.
That I was born in the wrong
decade, that I was meant to punch
typewriter keys like a boxer,
that the twenty-first century
wasn’t made for old souls like mine.
Doc thinks I’m too old
to be twenty-three, constantly forgetting
the barriers of my few y
Literature
Cultist
One day, we’ll worship rust
and marvel how it claimed
the world of industrious metal,
leaving nothing but slowing
reddening struts, half-hearted
angles reaching outward.
We’ll dive into the wrecks
looking for half-sparking wonders
that, when properly restored, gleam
into sputtering song or splitting
pictures of different worlds
and the faces of old Gods.
Literature
Left Behind
Everyone is constantly leaving
their wishes are coming true
I always feel like I'm grieving
are my wishes not true too?
The wind chooses to grace you
caressing you, making life a splash
but my path is not in view
and I am not graced, I am ash.
I was a beautiful blazing fire
flames so sure and so bright
but now they are dull and dire
nothing now seems right.
Everyone is moving on
leaving with such eager smiles
but I cry when they're gone
we're separated by many miles.
I may not have even known you
but I still wept when I heard the news
maybe I just wanted to leave too
but there's no new path for me to choose.
I'll be here, stuck in an unw
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A small poem out of the blue. Hope you all like it
© 2013 - 2024 Ridderkvinden
Comments23
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Good stuff! Strong historic imagery.