Betrayl of the Lord's Wife

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NOTE: THIS IS A POEM BASED ON THE ANGLO-SAXON STYLE LITERATURE.


I have seen many winters, some of great joy, some of many tears.
It is this winter, that causes me to weep.
My age of great triumph, have become bleak.
Now I must stand to be impressed, by those of youth.
It was not always, that I was filled with sorrow.
Though those memorable images, are filled with torment.

Her lord loved her, but mine was deeper.
We shared talks at great length, and I became her loyal friend.
Her pledge to marriage kept us apart, though secrecy added flame to the heart.
Lust created a blinded bond, and promised up damnation.
Though the Earth's flaming depths, could not prevent heat from bonding out hearts.

After the last leaf fell, so did her love.
No longer had she'd wished to see me, immorality guarded her heart.
Her interest moved back to her husband, and happily did he await.
She claimed that he be more capable than I, Damn her for leaving my vulnerable core!

After the first powdered raindrops appeared, my vision became clear.
I was to be rid of her sight, to prevent the devil from tempting me, to inflict force on the one I loved-love.
Exile was her sentence, though I could not bear, the sight of her alone.
It was best, for her husband to be free of a diabolic creature.
It was in my interest too, that my heart not be near hers.

The hideous face of fate forbade our love-Though I cannot blame the innocence of the white dove.
As she takes flight-I must look to my God for refuge from this heartbreak.
I gaze into the looking glass- to see my skin wrinkled by war.
My eyes are stained with sleepless nights- because the coldness remains in my core.

Now she is gone, the air never clearer.
But this winter's cold stings like the betrayal of last winter.
I sit here in solitude, sorrowful, covered with the saddness of clouds.
Feelings of youth, have exiled along with her.
Now I grieve for myself, for I believed that a woman could ever, appreciate the likes of me.
"I won't quit to become someone's old lady."
-Janis Joplin




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Haha wow, you totally nailed the Anglo-Saxon style in all its mad glory. 'Twas a bit long and I think it would have fit better in Narrative or Dramatic poetry, but it wasn't bad, truly.
On the third line, that should probably be 'has" rather than "have."
You must be swift as the coursing river,
With all the force of a great typhoon,
With all the strength of a raging fire,
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.




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possibleintrovert wrote:NOTE: THIS IS A POEM BASED ON THE ANGLO-SAXON STYLE LITERATURE.


I have seen many winters, some of great joy, some of many tears. I like this already :D
It is this winter, that causes me to weep.
My age of great triumph, have become bleak.
Now I must stand to be impressed, by those of youth.
It was not always, that I was filled with sorrow.
Though those memorable images, are filled with torment.

Her lord loved her, but mine was deeper.
We shared talks at great length, and I became her loyal friend. *sigh* xD
Her pledge to marriage kept us apart, though secrecy added flame to the heart.
Lust created a blinded bond, and promised up damnation.
Though the Earth's flaming depths, could not prevent heat from bonding out hearts.

After the last leaf fell, so did her love.
No longer had she'd wished to see me, immorality guarded her heart.
Her interest moved back to her husband, and happily did he await.
She claimed that he be more capable than I, Damn her for leaving my vulnerable core!

After the first powdered raindrops appeared, my vision became clear.
I was to be rid of her sight, to prevent the devil from tempting me, to inflict force on the one I loved-love.
Exile was her sentence, though I could not bear, the sight of her alone.
It was best, for her husband to be free of a diabolic creature.
It was in my interest too, that my heart not be near hers.

The hideous face of fate forbade our love-Though I cannot blame the innocence of the white dove.
As she takes flight-I must look to my God for refuge from this heartbreak.
I gaze into the looking glass- to see my skin wrinkled by war.
My eyes are stained with sleepless nights- because the coldness remains in my core.

Now she is gone, the air never clearer.
But this winter's cold stings like the betrayal of last winter.
I sit here in solitude, sorrowful, covered with the saddness sadness of clouds.
Feelings of youth, have exiled along with her.
Now I grieve for myself, for I believed that a woman could ever, appreciate the likes of me.


I love this... I love this! Sorry, this was pretty much useless, but to be honest there's not much to correct.

Besides... it made me sad :(

Anyways, keep writing!

Ducky
Writing's a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia E.L. Doctorow
I've always believed that writing advertisements is the second most profitable form of writing. The first is ransom notes Philip Dusenberry
I'm so clever that I don't understand a single word of what I'm saying Oscar Wilde




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Hi introvert! :D

Hmm... you have a very interesting poem! It kind of reminds me of the old-school romances that I so adore. :D

One idea... maybe you can rewrite your poem into a more metered poem? Right now, it seems like a recap of a romance novel, but it you made it fit into an older style metered poem, I think it would be much more lyrical and poetic. See if that works! :D
Ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est.

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly." ~ Richard Bach

Moth and Myth <- My comic! :D



Remember, hate is always foolish, and love is always wise!
— The 12th Doctor