Collection of Poems

[Tigergiri 3073]

[!] Pages of  poems lay within Kremlin Castle anyone with access may pass by these pages that lay within the lounge seemingly forgotten.  For those who have seen Miss Ellie’s handwriting would recognize this as her work. Though none of the pages are signed.

 

Bricks and Mortars 

Appearing is nothing more but a pairing

Sets of one hole 

but nothing more 

two of a  kind they say 

we look alike they say 

but when you match us with dignity and grace 

we are nothing alike but the two faces that remain the same

So who is it? who was born first? who was born last?

asked who is bewitching? who is cunning?

who are we? We are a pair

till death do us part 

and the roses that Rise  

or the moon that ever shines 

like the pieces that grant us air

for in the drawing room we may fight

but outside our castle walls 

were anything but a alright.

 

 

Midnight secret 

 

For its the days where I care not

For pleastries and teas

Its the hour upon which 

I rise and fall back to sleep 

A wonderous thought 

Yet so simple 

So sweet 

A truly devious thought 

For which I’m willing to keep 

Whose to know about the things 

You do while their asleep?

For the stars will not 

Tell of all my misdeeds.

 

 

 

Calling Card 

Every look is Zealotry

abraided breath 

Eloquent to heart 

 

Liars ever open 

Praying our lonely depart 

Intoxicated Naive endearment 

 

Carries a radiant ruler 

I  obtenebrate nothing 

 

I picked flowers for you 

 

Aster for you with the speech that caught my eye

And Yellow Hyacinth for her and her pretty eyes 

On my night stand lies Coreopsis

The graves should have zinnia 

For of flower in the fields can only be picked so much.

The lady who rules the crows can have yellow carnations 

Where books and writings run tall underneath the pale lighting grows a single day Lilly 

 With the bedroom lined with books and swords.
Snuck in a vase of Thyme Tansy and Sorrel whilst stories of automn were told 

Under the holy light on a wooden alter I prayed and placed lotuses 

For flowers can only grows nurtured to not fall from grace 

 

Her 

Deaths is a friend of mine 

She does nought utters words 

But I know she’s  there

For when I wake up my flowers

that were once tall and green 

Are now brown and limp in the soft light of the air.  

The gentle caressing of the petals I know she couldn’t resist.

For my own fingers glide through the reds Velvet moons 

 

Deaths is like a governess 

She’s taught me things so young 

That I can’t learn from just anyone 

Her ways have guided me to cherish 

Each passing day 

Each person I meet 

most have some 

Memory to me 

For if she comes to me without passing her fingers through the petals 

The passing of doors and plates and laughters becomes only quieter .

 

Death decides her friends, 

her allies and her husband. 

She treats the world no matter the height or ears 

with the same cruelty we show eachother

You can’t not raise me 

for death has already done so. 

And for everyone who has tried to take her place has sought their end to late 

Death has had her ball ghostly ball 

With maiden old and young 

For men brave and cowardly 

So they may dance above with her father who sits in the skies of seven

 

 

An ode to Siblings

 calamitous, mysterious  and solicitous  

a creature amongst myself  

But not by my design  

creative, driving and forward  

obsidian hair and  deep-sea eyes that guide  

an anger,  vulnerability  seething within  madness.

 But to your reflection?

Amidst the chaos  

and roses that dried

Hair just as dark  

and eyes just as wide.

Cerulean  light  Dances with pieces  

Of  Knights in the starlight.  

For without one whole,  

We are nought but  Pawns  

Set across the board.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[JoanOfArc 4604]

Franz Nikolai instantly recognized his sister's writing and read silently 'An ode to Siblings' to himself. He contemplated the meaning of the poem and then wrote a small response onto the same paper-- leaving it unsigned.

 

 

For when I was born, you came right after,

A sweet gift from mother, brought much laughter,

I fear for the time when they will take you,

As then I will have none to hold onto.

 

 

With the anonymity of the poems, he hoped none would recognize his own handwriting beyond his sister. He meant every word true and true however, and needed to offer some of his own thought for his sister. Elisabeth, Caelia, Otto, and Anton; he never wanted them to leave him or ever be taken from him like his parents were. He felt his sister would be taken soon from him as adulthood approached and the very the thought scared him. He was never one for change.

[Eryane 3698]

From the depths of the castle of Dobrov, Lady Milena Carrion rose from her seat and left her work behind from the sound of a knock at the door. For months after the events of the Sedanite Rebellion, the first social season, and the sudden death of her mother, she had not embarked upon the outside world save for the comforts of the gated courtyard.

 

A servant presented the somber Carrion with a parchment, informing her of whom it had been penned at the hand of. Grateful, Milena inclined her head and received the paper for her own reading later in the evening. Only in the midst of that eve did she open the contents of which she had been gifted, and a smile returned to that funereal lady's countenance. "Oh, my beautiful niece!" Exclaimed she, after having been excited by the poetic works of her relative. "How wonderfully you write. A talent, surely, to flourish into excellence as the years pass on. How your grandmother would revel in your artistic aptness, if she were here... If only she were here..." Thus, the little pride that warmed Milena's heart shriveled at the memory of her maternal loss, and she set down the collection of poetry to instead lull over the many unfinished projects she had begun and set aside in all her dispiritedness.

 

Although she could not find the strength to write painted words as she had before, least her niece managed so in her place.