Oh Lady come down your hill
oh lady come down your hill
Well the gathering tide
Goes far and wide
And your moat it would like to fill
Oh lady come down your hill
Oh lady come down your hill
You've spent too long
In your ivory tower
Let your hair hang down
From your window sill
Oh lady come down your hill
Oh lady come down off your hill
The army is strong and it may kill
But while the soldiers are strong
The fight must go on
So kind lady come down your hill
Oh lady come down your hill
The night is long
And it can chill
Come warm yourself
I'll keep your health
Come lady from down your hill
Oh lady come down your hill
The buzzards soar and shrill
The sky is clear but there are
Grey clouds still
Come lady down your hill
Oh lady come down your hill
I know you have a strong will
But put that aside
Just be my bride
Oh lady come down your hill
Monday, 27 August 2018
Come lady
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sunday, 26 August 2018
Bone Kissing
I didn't want to turn back
Didn't want to face the storm
That I knew would turn me black
Didn't know that I was torn
Like a rending thunder
Shaken to the very core
Of my foundations laying under
I never got used to your face
Never could learn to trace
The outline of your cheek
Nor to draw the breath you took
Just before you speak
I never learned to call you mine
Never learned to drink the wine
Never knew what a fine line
I had had to walk
And now we do not talk
I chose to come here
I chose to stay
I chose that some year
I would fly away
But the swallows return each Summer or Spring
Are they the same ones
Who left on the wing
Is it the same prayer
I can hear
The choir sing?
As their voices rise into the skies
Of a horizon forever setting
She plays the cello
On her own stage
Keeping back the fellow deer
Like a do rey me so far te da
Like a guardian of her age
She guards the garden
She turns on the hose
She turns over the earth that hardens
around the Summer rose
She is like a starling
Singing in a flock
Away arise, the may fly flies
Dragon fly alights upon a rock
Sweet streams and rivulets
Stun the lady Juliet
From her reverie of regret
In too many long walks
Suddenly the walls
Are trembling from the thunder
Suddenly all she knows falls
And is cast asunder
That the one strike fell
Like a hammer on a bell
Rung out the good
Rung in the bad
Wrung the clothes on the line
Wrung the water into wine
One fine day when I look back
It will not seem so blue
Just the Sun fading into black
Before from behind the clouds
It appears a new
Didn't want to face the storm
That I knew would turn me black
Didn't know that I was torn
Like a rending thunder
Shaken to the very core
Of my foundations laying under
I never got used to your face
Never could learn to trace
The outline of your cheek
Nor to draw the breath you took
Just before you speak
I never learned to call you mine
Never learned to drink the wine
Never knew what a fine line
I had had to walk
And now we do not talk
I chose to come here
I chose to stay
I chose that some year
I would fly away
But the swallows return each Summer or Spring
Are they the same ones
Who left on the wing
Is it the same prayer
I can hear
The choir sing?
As their voices rise into the skies
Of a horizon forever setting
She plays the cello
On her own stage
Keeping back the fellow deer
Like a do rey me so far te da
Like a guardian of her age
She guards the garden
She turns on the hose
She turns over the earth that hardens
around the Summer rose
She is like a starling
Singing in a flock
Away arise, the may fly flies
Dragon fly alights upon a rock
Sweet streams and rivulets
Stun the lady Juliet
From her reverie of regret
In too many long walks
Suddenly the walls
Are trembling from the thunder
Suddenly all she knows falls
And is cast asunder
That the one strike fell
Like a hammer on a bell
Rung out the good
Rung in the bad
Wrung the clothes on the line
Wrung the water into wine
One fine day when I look back
It will not seem so blue
Just the Sun fading into black
Before from behind the clouds
It appears a new
Labels:
Relationships,
summer,
thunder
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Saturday, 25 August 2018
Fan
I had my own fan
I held it to my heart
And when the men did come along
A flutter it gave a start
Like a butterfly this fan picked up
My womanly grace
And emphasized all the contours
And lines upon my face
But my fan, fanned the flames
Of desire in my eyes
And when I wished for cooler days
Hot passions in me did rise
I held my fan close to my heart
Like a pendant from a lover
It stilled the beating before its start
Kept those feelings undercover
But unmasked from behind its blind
Unmistakably you will find
A woman in love with every kind
Of man, beast or lover
I held it to my heart
And when the men did come along
A flutter it gave a start
Like a butterfly this fan picked up
My womanly grace
And emphasized all the contours
And lines upon my face
But my fan, fanned the flames
Of desire in my eyes
And when I wished for cooler days
Hot passions in me did rise
I held my fan close to my heart
Like a pendant from a lover
It stilled the beating before its start
Kept those feelings undercover
But unmasked from behind its blind
Unmistakably you will find
A woman in love with every kind
Of man, beast or lover
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Sun
Dictator of a dead grace
The sun rises in the sky
It was the same that rose when I was but a child
But now my heart is older
My temperature is blue
The heart that felt its sweet rays
Is not the same that once was new
It leaves its grace like scars of clouds
Upon the face of the sky
And it shall outlast everyone of us
While we each must die
Sun, of heaven, shine on
As a chariot of fire
Racing from the east to west
Crusading holy pyre
Beyond the thoughts of a boy
Who knows not his future joy
But stays in the present
Time for him is but a toy
Beyond this the great dictator
Climbs its elision tower
The spires of the heavens
Find him there never ready to cower
All the stark blankness
Come spilling from its face
That candles burn in the deepness
Of the outer space
The sun rises in the sky
It was the same that rose when I was but a child
But now my heart is older
My temperature is blue
The heart that felt its sweet rays
Is not the same that once was new
It leaves its grace like scars of clouds
Upon the face of the sky
And it shall outlast everyone of us
While we each must die
Sun, of heaven, shine on
As a chariot of fire
Racing from the east to west
Crusading holy pyre
Beyond the thoughts of a boy
Who knows not his future joy
But stays in the present
Time for him is but a toy
Beyond this the great dictator
Climbs its elision tower
The spires of the heavens
Find him there never ready to cower
All the stark blankness
Come spilling from its face
That candles burn in the deepness
Of the outer space
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Mercury
She holds the moon
in a silver cup
She needs no spoon
To stir what she sups
Silver is the honey comb
Of her memory
Of all the bees in a bomb
Exploding in her tree
Silver are the rain drops
Rolling down the steel
Stopping in the silver pool
Of the place she feels
Her name is Mercury
She changes like the ocean
Flows like electricity
Solid metal into liquid emotion
Mercury like a switch
Turning on to off
Letting the current change her body
From hard to soft
Precious as Silver
Conducts like Gold
Mercury in a fever
Changing faces like the moon she holds
in a silver cup
She needs no spoon
To stir what she sups
Silver is the honey comb
Of her memory
Of all the bees in a bomb
Exploding in her tree
Silver are the rain drops
Rolling down the steel
Stopping in the silver pool
Of the place she feels
Her name is Mercury
She changes like the ocean
Flows like electricity
Solid metal into liquid emotion
Mercury like a switch
Turning on to off
Letting the current change her body
From hard to soft
Precious as Silver
Conducts like Gold
Mercury in a fever
Changing faces like the moon she holds
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Wednesday, 22 August 2018
Black cat mood
Black cat like a hole in the night
Blacker than pitch
Blacker than jet
Eyes I never will forget
Black cat in the Coal dark
Dusky as dust
In a shadowy park
Black will
Violent and still
Harmless and cold
Beyond the being, the non-being untold
Un-named thing
Anonymous wish
Lay out a milk dish
Out comes the pink tongue
Lapping up like an ocean
Laps the shore with its fish
Fingers
Blacker than pitch
Blacker than jet
Eyes I never will forget
Black cat in the Coal dark
Dusky as dust
In a shadowy park
Black will
Violent and still
Harmless and cold
Beyond the being, the non-being untold
Un-named thing
Anonymous wish
Lay out a milk dish
Out comes the pink tongue
Lapping up like an ocean
Laps the shore with its fish
Fingers
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
Whose hands are on the moon?
Flying figures in the sky
Racing across the moon
Shining seraphims
Guarding the palace
That once I built from
the cuticles in my finger nails
But now what can these hands do?
If our nails grow with the moon
While we sleep
Even while we die
Our skin reflects the sun
It is shadows and dust
Of interstellar lust
Sun people saving their skins
Everyday
Hanging them out on the washing line
In mutual habitual action
That the Sun dictates
Like our father
The flesh is warmed then it drops
It is blown in the wind
Our eyes are the rain and the oceans
And the weather of emotions
That fill with salty tears
That no matter how many fall
They still dry
In the end
All the while the moon is
Pulling our finger nails out
Into the evening sky
Racing across the moon
Shining seraphims
Guarding the palace
That once I built from
the cuticles in my finger nails
But now what can these hands do?
If our nails grow with the moon
While we sleep
Even while we die
Our skin reflects the sun
It is shadows and dust
Of interstellar lust
Sun people saving their skins
Everyday
Hanging them out on the washing line
In mutual habitual action
That the Sun dictates
Like our father
The flesh is warmed then it drops
It is blown in the wind
Our eyes are the rain and the oceans
And the weather of emotions
That fill with salty tears
That no matter how many fall
They still dry
In the end
All the while the moon is
Pulling our finger nails out
Into the evening sky
Labels:
moon
I like to write poetry and perform it at poetry nights. I've been writing some form of it since school years.
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