tcs_tonsils_ 2829 Share Posted February 10, 2023 Selection of Poetry - Volume Twenty-Three Published the 7th of VYZMEY AG HYFF, 464 E.S. Lily Pads From the depths of the verdant pond, Ascends a bed of lush lily pads Each pad a disc of pristine green, Vibrant in the sun's morning beam. An emerald carpet on the lake, The pads exude a subtle ache, A longing for the gentle breeze, To waft the scent of dew-dappled trees. The pads are just a part of the show, As the pond is encircled by willows, A canopy of emerald shade, Protecting the lilies in their glade. The lilies beckon the creatures of the deep, Promising them a bed of restful sleep. The koi, the frog, the turtle, and more, Come to the lilies seeking shelter from the shore. As the day drifts into night, The lilies glow in the moonlight. The lake is still, the air is hushed, The lilies lie in wait, undisturbed. But when the morning light returns, The lilies once again yearn For the birds, the bugs, and the fish, To come and be their companions in bliss. The lilies are a gentle reminder Of the beauty that lies beneath the pond's surface, A sanctuary of tranquillity, Where the creatures and lilies can find serenity. So the next time you visit the lake, Take a moment to admire the lilies' grace, Let their beauty take your breath away, And be thankful for the lilies' sway. Lays of Sin Lust corrupts the righteous, a bane to all good men, Enveloping their minds in a web of sin, A fatal weakness they cannot comprehend. Shadowing their path, it beclouds their sight, Ravaging their conscience and numbing their might, Leading them astray, away from the light. The righteous man, blind to his own defeat, Is unaware of the danger he must meet, His lustful heart too strong for his own feet. It lures him in, tempting him with delight, A false sense of security, a false sense of might, A false sense of power, that never brings light. He succumbs to temptation, no longer free, A prisoner of his own vanity, A slave to his own instinctive need. His soul is no longer pure, no longer free, Crippled by the chains of his own greed, He is no longer righteous, no longer me. The righteous man, now lost and astray, No longer knows the right from the wrong way, He has succumbed to the will of the wicked sway. Lust corrupts the righteous man, A powerful force that no one can, No one can withstand, no one can ban. But there is still hope, still a way, For the righteous man to be saved, For him to find the strength and the will to be brave. He must find the courage to look within, To confront his demons and face his sins, To embrace his weakness and begin again. For only then will he be saved, From the fate of his own depraved, And from the darkness that lust has enslaved. Winter Fades The frost withers the white tapestry, Dissolving it into oblivion, The canvass grows dull and grey, Paled by the eroding heat of spring. Grievous was the chill of winter, Yearning for spring's warmer climb, But now, in the half-light of morning, Fades the painting of snow's sublime. Passing away like a long-lost dream, The snowfall's meandering flows, The moment of serenity, so brief, It had to part, no one knows. Farewell then, the snow's white beauty, It has succumbed to the sun's ray, For in the future, it will be remembered, As a fond winter day. But with downy flakes, Light touches turned to weight, It slowly melts and seeps away, A sign of what was here today. It's proof of transient, gentle peace, But also ages old decease. For with time comes new, And ignorance of what once grew. So, as the sun gains power, The snow to hide and cower, And what was once sacred, Fades, forgotten and aged. The frost-biten day corrodes, Forgotten by younger load. Trampled by the youth and lost, A moment of glory that was once the cost. But in the twilight of the day, The snow remains and stays as a way, To remember what once was, What war and time cannot cause. Sickly A blight that spills from heart to heart, A poison that pervades with a vicious start; It strikes with a chill and leaves us bereft, The wounds that it causes, deep and deft. It sneaks in like a fog, its tendrils unseen, A mire of despair and a tangle of mean; A taint of the soul, its claws wrapped tight, A cold and malicious, malevolent blight. It seeps through the cracks and settles like dust, A blight on the land and a bane on us; It looms like a spectre, a monster unseen, And gives us no respite, no peace between. It strikes in the night and lingers in the day, A scourge on our souls with no way to stay; It trails in its wake a long, drawn-out sigh, The life of time, and a soul's passing cry. Writing Breaths Life Imbued with a power that transcends, The wit of the pen is sublime, It knows no bounds, no end, Not even for time. The wit of the pen does not cease, But ever so quietly agitates, It stirs the hearts of the meek, And the powerful it sedates. The power of wit is undeniable, It's more than just a word, It carries a message, a plea, A voice that is rarely heard. The ink of the pen is a tool, That can shape and mould, It can enlighten the ignorant, And challenge those who are bold. The spirit of the pen can create, And its power can destroy, It can bring forth the truth, Or be used to decoy. The fire of a pen is truly alive, It's an ever-evolving art, It's the voice of the voiceless, And the power of the heart. The Night Sky Bright and brilliant, the stars of night, Dance across the sky in flight, Their gleaming light a splendid sight, A celestial beauty so bright. Twinkling above in the midnight sky, A million tiny points of light, Illuminating the deep abyss, Filling the night with sheer delight. Gazing upon this marvelous sight, The heavens open up in splendor, Revealing the glorious solar might, A wondrous sight to remember. The brilliance of the starlit height, A glorious display of might, Awe-inspiring and so divine, A sight that will last until time. The Gap Between You are too far away, An inconsolable distance between us, My longing for you ever increasing, My heart aching in its absence. The time that passes without you, An eternity of sorrowful moments, The tears that I cry for you, Reminding me of what could have been. The emptiness that lingers in my soul, A desolate void in my being, My longing for you ever growing, The reality of our separation all too real. My love for you never ceasing, Though the miles that separate us, My spirit is weakened by our distance, The longing for you ever present. The chasm between us ever widening, My anguish ever deepening, The thought of us ever apart, Tearing me apart piece by piece. They Rise and Subside The mighty ocean in its vastness, Clinging to the shoreline's caress, The waves in their ceaseless motion, Drawing us closer to their embrace, The awe-inspiring might of the sea, Its relentless pull of gravity, The waves crash and roar, In majestic symphony, The tranquil bays and coves, The gentle sway of the tide, The waves lapping at the shore, A soothing lullaby of the sea, The glorious beauty of nature's art, The power of the water' force, An ever-changing, breathtaking view, The waves, our timeless source. SIGNED, HIS LORDSHIP, Borris Iver Kortrevich, KML 3 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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