Rhythmic Poetry

Rains Descend

Rains descend upon my head
The sky grows dark and chill
The rush surround my mind and soul
To freeze my halting will

Clouds move o’er the dawning sun
And halt the marching light
My vision dims throughout the morn
And shrinks into the night

Fogs envelope mind and frame
The world becomes a haze
The hues of life are bled and dried
My eyes are dark and glazed

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Rhythmic Poetry

Tara’s Lasting Memories

They whisper still on Tara’s Hill, the lasting memories
Of men and beasts, of rain and wind, of ages run to die
They whisper of the highest kings, resplendent in their dress
Brought-forth from waring clans upon the Isle of the Green
They whisper of the strains of men, in fellowship arrayed
They whisper of the streams of blood
That’s borne upon the mighty River Boyne unto the thirsty sea
They whisper of the sumptuous feasts, where mead and laughter flowed
They whisper of the druids dark, King-Makers in the ancient land
They whisper in their silent tears for all the Island’s children dear
Who’ve mourned and suffered in their sordid history
They whisper still, on Tara’s Hill, these lasting memories

Rhythmic Poetry

Time’s Remorse

Sorrowed live the spawn of man, in time’s remorse
they die in youth, and age in evil’s grip
hounded in their mind by mounds of reasoned shit,
they suffer in the frames of pain and sickness’ course.
Darkened storm the days of man upon the earth,
black clouds upon the future’s still horizon.
Rains descend upon his bright and shiny reason
thence from death he dies undead until his birth.
Unholy words and deeds brew draughts of death
that deep within the witch’s drink humanity consumes.
Lost within hell’s smog, a cloud of deathly fumes
and choked in sin’s embrace, incapable of breath

Rhythmic Poetry

The Royal Seasons

Soft the days of the Princess Spring
Flowers bloom in shows of colors bright
Trees awaken from their wintered sleep
The lands rejoice in rejuvenated sight

Hot the days of the Summer Prince
Creatures play in joyed activity
Trees extend their arms unto the skies
The land is angered by the driving heat

Fair the days of the Autumn Queen
Regal sways the shrinking, sinking sun
Trees bedeck themselves in evening dress
The land slows down for harvest’s thankful fun

Dark the days of the Winter King
Harshly blows the stinging, guarding winds
Trees undress to fall into their yearly sleep
The land to silence hence submits

Rhythmic Poetry

A Ruin’s Lament

Perched astride the mighty cliff, I lie forlorn and old
Broken by our time’s relentless march, I’m ruined by the sea
The waves persist in crushing strains, the spray a pleasant plume
I’m dying on this lonely mount, I’m placed, to ne’er be free

Throughout my walls the wind in primal glee performs her whistled waltz
Within my lonely frame the birds for ages have their humble nests contrived
The children’s laughter is forgot, as well the screams of dying men
I’m perishing upon this lonely mount, my glory ne’er to be revived

The ages come and go and time continues his remorseless trek
The suns and moons in circles spin beyond the reach of flesh of mortal bent
I lie a ruined, crumbled corpse, beneath the gaze of knowing stars
Alone upon this frozen cliff, an ancient worn and spent

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