tcs_tonsils_ 2829 Share Posted April 11, 2022 Selection of Poetry - Vol. 8 [!] A portrait of an adult Borris Iver Kortrevich 1st of Msitza und Dargund, 420 E.S. “Time” Blink and it is gone, Yet stays for eternity If you watch for it. Wish for it to slow Yearn for it to just fly by It never listens Live in the moment Everyone says to me Live in the moment So why does it seem I wait for perfect timing Just for it to pass. I hope to find peace Between the unknown and known In times of great doubt Time is forgotten And we continue living Because we just do. “Honor and Love” Sweat dons from a weary brow. Knuckles enveloped in white as they Grip the leather hit of a steel blade. Breath deeply, slowly, calmly. “I challenge you then, Lord.” The man one said with an angry bark. “I challenge you to a duel of love and honor.” The Lord huffed, a stance of rage overcoming. Face hot, eyes swollen red with anger And hurt, the man stood his ground. If not for Honor, he could have sworn he would have Cut him down where he stood. “Nie, nie, a duel.” He reasoned, his own Mind a pit of anguish, yet inside held the Deep passion for the love he beckoned for. He would fight for that of love and honor. They meet, each lord adorned in their own Armor, blade, fans, and ideologies. Armor clinked as iron met iron, swords Doomed to slash amongst a cheering multitude. Sweat dons from a weary brow. Knuckles enveloped in white as they Grip the leather hit of a steel blade. Breath deeply, slowly, calmly. One winner stands victorious. “I won my challenge then, Lord.” “I won the challenge of love and honor.” The Lord called, a grin beamed upon his face. Eyes interlocked then, With the one he had fought so gallantly for. Eyes interlocked then, He fought for that of love and honor. “Restless” The days grow restless, The days grow restless, As pandemonium bites at my core. The days grow restless, As pandemonium bites at my core, Beating me with a fury of never ending trials. The days grow restless, As pandemonium bites at my core, Beating me with a fury of never ending trials. Yet all is not lost. Yet all is not lost. Yet all is not lost. For this is not the end of the line. Yet all is not lost, For this is not the end of the line, There is still so much good to be done. Yet all is not lost, For this is not the end of the line, There is still so much good to be done. The bitter darkness shall not overtake pure light. “From Rest Comes a Gentle Hand" A poem commissioned for Madeline You are everything, My love, my darling.You mold me, Fix and redeem me, You supply me with all I need. We cultivated a relationship, They could hardly fathom. Things go unspoken, We understand with perfect clarity. How could they ever relate? You saved me, Completely, Wholly, Absolutely. Where would I be without you? Mindlessly wasting time Drinking into oblivion, Crossing blurring gray lines. So pull me closer, love. Let me adore your tenderness. Let me rest my head upon your skin, Just that I might hear the heart skip its beat. 12 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
beetle 2800 Share Posted April 11, 2022 Being cooped up in her room, Esmée Kortrevich read the poems with a bittersweet smile. 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
lalo 298 Share Posted April 12, 2022 Eileen Baruch read through a copy of the Kortrevich's work. There was intrigue written all across her visage as she read each and every line! 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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