tcs_tonsils_ 2829 Share Posted February 28, 2022 (edited) Selection of Poetry - Vol. 3 [!] A portrait of Borris Iver Kortrevich 14th of Msitza and Dargund, 414 E.S. “Keep upon a hill” There is something special About a keep upon a hill. This one looking down upon the Thatched-roofed homes of Louisville. A peaking fortress Which stands above the clouds. Set apart from the town, a beacon upon the mound. Shrouded in silence, these White and red walls stand stoic. The deep pain that lays within Them, Leaves me dysphonic. I stand in awe, hands clasped, As if before the borealis I yearn to enter those wooden Doors of this olden palace. So please let me in, Even if only to compare, The differences of the keeps Contrasting here and there. “Between Bitterness and Beauty” The cold numbs my skin as Stones prick my dangling legs. I sit upon this ledge, feet hanging And eyes affixed on the stairs. This thick winter snow Full of wonder and bitterness. A blanket of white, Yielding a neverending stillness, O’Gentleness, O’Warmth Why do you leave me when I sit? The frigid wind howls, the trees waving to me from where they stit. The wheat before me glitters in The sunlight like shimmering glass shards. Oceans of gold flowing in waves, Speckled strands of everything ours. Betwixt the bitterness and the sweet, There is always something in between. An undefined center of perfection, A hope of peace we clandestine. “Change” I hurt you, I do not know how. I do not know how, but I hurt you. Everything changes but I wish it wouldn’t Change so often and so quickly. I feel like the world is passing by me. Nikolai told me to slow down, live it out. I did not listen and now it feels like Everything is going to move differently. Now I am changing, growing up. But it had been harder than I thought. Because with change comes loss. With loss comes hurt. And so I change, and so I hurt you How do I change back? Clear the hurt? Can we ever be just as we were years ago Young, silly, and good friends, best friends. “Jumbled” It comes upon the midnight hour, When my mind twists to a moldless slush. A jumbled knot disguised as elegant verbiage. Yet, when dawn comes, I know it was a ruse. Signed, Borris Iver Kortrevich. Edited March 1, 2022 by tcs_tonsils_ 6 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ydegirl 1757 Share Posted February 28, 2022 click clack click clack plop. a young shrine maiden— hatsumomo, had dropped her basket of kimonos, seeing a particular book on sale. a selection of poetry from borris iver kortrevich. with whatever little money she had earned from selling trinkets to people, she spent on this fascinating new book. 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mannyy 934 Share Posted March 1, 2022 Franziska Ipera read over the poetry, nodding a few times as she seemingly approved! “Da, this is dobry.” She commented! 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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