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The Scoldings of the Woods
3 min read
The Scoldings of the Woods
The Greater Wind, the wrath of the Northerly-
And all who whorl atop his back,
Distribute discipline, quite orderly
With howling scolds that snap and crack-
And scrub the poultaise of the Earth
In fashions quite so, ardently,
With rains as Sharp as silver glass
The Father Wind and Discipline
follow hence accordingly.
And all who whorl atop his back,
Distribute discipline, quite orderly
With howling scolds that snap and crack-
And scrub the poultaise of the Earth
In fashions quite so, ardently,
With rains as Sharp as silver glass
The Father Wind and Discipline
follow hence accordingly.
- Anyssa E
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Anyssa E
Down and lo went eight and ten,
twixt the furnace hot and molten bend-
of caverns old and hearth and den,
Deeper yonder past Heaven's Sake.
The darklight boils the darkness-fright;
that crepuscule thicker than the night,
it sit atop the hearts of Men,
as they trickle quicker through the Mountain Gate.
Through misery they held and thought
upon a hidden stone that ought be sought,
to return to Land and Lord and Kind,
and bring enlightenment to man's mind.
So onwards, lowards the few be sent,
cross river bed and valley lea,
seven days to grieve and lament-
what ever shortcoming thou hold to thee.
"For meadow spring that's soft on foot,
and all that thou had loved with glee,
through these seven days peace must
be bade and spent,
if peaceful rest render under ye."
Down and lo went eight and ten,
the seventh day onward to Saturn's Gate,
Daylight rest the day is done,
naught much left but Mountain Drum.
Dizziness, death be soon to some-
the stark-face met with Death-quiet hum.
"As Alchemy is as Alchemy was,
a foolish trade for rusted ones,
"Materium superbet Opus!!"
the Old Masters fussed,
"Not worth the trade, not worth the hush!"
Now river forth of blood would gush,
for the Stone never was as it said it does.
..the story is about a relentless few who go off in search of the Lapidem
allpoetry.com/Metis_Met…
-The Lost BitDown and lo went eight and ten,
twixt the furnace hot and molten bend-
of caverns old and hearth and den,
Deeper yonder past Heaven's Sake.
The darklight boils the darkness-fright;
that crepuscule thicker than the night,
it sit atop the hearts of Men,
as they trickle quicker through the Mountain Gate.
Through misery they held and thought
upon a hidden stone that ought be sought,
to return to Land and Lord and Kind,
and bring enlightenment to man's mind.
So onwards, lowards the few be sent,
cross river bed and valley lea,
seven days to grieve and lament-
what ever shortcoming thou hold to thee.
"For meadow spring that's soft on foot,
and all that thou had loved with glee,
through these seven days peace must
be bade and spent,
if peaceful rest render under ye."
Down and lo went eight and ten,
the seventh day onward to Saturn's Gate,
Daylight rest the day is done,
naught much left but Mountain Drum.
Dizziness, death be soon to some-
the stark-face met with Death-quiet hum.
"As Alchemy is as Alchemy was,
a foolish trade for rusted ones,
"Materium superbet Opus!!"
the Old Masters fussed,
"Not worth the trade, not worth the hush!"
Now river forth of blood would gush,
for the Stone never was as it said it does.
..the story is about a relentless few who go off in search of the Lapidem
This Journal Skin was designed by Night-Beast
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
The Lament
2 min read
The Lament
The Grandfather of the Crows
Hunched against a canvas juxtaposed
Of starkest white, stricken by blight
Of glittering frost from Arctic Poles.
Bleakest grin, akin to the toad-
And sharpened mouth splits to croak
And bleat above the sullen fleet
Of dark, and damp sound with His Ode
-Anyssa (Aldeboran/Metis)
Hunched against a canvas juxtaposed
Of starkest white, stricken by blight
Of glittering frost from Arctic Poles.
Bleakest grin, akin to the toad-
And sharpened mouth splits to croak
And bleat above the sullen fleet
Of dark, and damp sound with His Ode
-Anyssa (Aldeboran/Metis)
This Journal Skin was designed by Night-Beast
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Featured
The Scoldings of the Woods by Aldeboran, journal
The Scoldings of the Woods
The Scoldings of the Woods
The Greater Wind, the wrath of the Northerly-
And all who whorl atop his back,
Distribute discipline, quite orderly
With howling scolds that snap and crack-
And scrub the poultaise of the Earth
In fashions quite so, ardently,
With rains as Sharp as silver glass
The Father Wind and Discipline
follow hence accordingly.
- Anyssa E
The Lost Piece (The beginning of the story) by Aldeboran, journal
The Lost Piece (The beginning of the story)
Anyssa E
http://allpoetry.com/Metis_Met…-The Lost Bit
Down and lo went eight and ten,
twixt the furnace hot and molten bend-
of caverns old and hearth and den,
Deeper yonder past Heaven's Sake.
The darklight boils the darkness-fright;
that crepuscule thicker than the night,
it sit atop the hearts of Men,
as they trickle quicker through the Mountain Gate.
Through misery they held and thought
upon a hidden stone that ought be sought,
to return to Land and Lord and Kind,
and bring enlightenment to man's mind.
So onwards, lowards the few be sent,
cross river bed and valley lea,
seven days to grieve and lament-
what ever s
The Lament by Aldeboran, journal
The Lament
The Lament
The Grandfather of the Crows
Hunched against a canvas juxtaposed
Of starkest white, stricken by blight
Of glittering frost from Arctic Poles.
Bleakest grin, akin to the toad-
And sharpened mouth splits to croak
And bleat above the sullen fleet
Of dark, and damp sound with His Ode
-Anyssa (Aldeboran/Metis)