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Tuesday
May 29, 2012
3:42am EDT


  >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Personal >> ID #1460362  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
O! Swiftly Sing (of the Fallen Leaves)
A "hard" poem in alliterative and rhyming meters.
Rated:
13+
by
Avg Rating: (4)
O! swiftly sing of the fallen leaves
while on the forsaken early hours of the eve
of destruction, the day of damnation,
we witness the nefarious disintegration of this nation.
Masked and anonymous are the malicious anarchists
who angrily violate the vivacious vox populi with harsh tests
which contain cold and bold outcomes, boisterous cards are played,
and down to the dark depths are the detached dead laid.
I now know where they are,
sí vanwa ná Rómello vanwa Valimar!

O! come you band of brothers,
and tell your malicious mothers and faithless fathers
who live through all the land,
to lightly lend their hands,
or to leave and let be.
Tell them that we’re finally free!
We don’t need them,
so let them sing softly a hymn,
let them sing dirges in the dark
in a desolately sparse park.
I now know where we are,
sí vanwa ná Rómello vanwa Valimar!

O! come you wasteful masters of morbid war,
I know who you are.
Like Judas of old,
you’re intentions seem fair and gold,
you’re vicious visage had you so sold
for they are in truth so completely cold.
But don’t run from my ecstatic eyes
when the fast bullets fly.
I hope that you cry
and I hope that you die,
so I can gallantly say, “goodbye.”
I now know how they are,
sí vanwa ná Rómello vanwa Valimar!

O! come to the Kingdom of Heaven,
and pass through the Gates of Eden,
from which no sins silently come, and no sound seeps through;
where no courts are constricted, but all Justice creeps quietly to.
All those outside, remorsefully reap and sorrowfully sow,
while the free live darkly on Desolation Row.
And the Watchmen use the white man’s name
for the black man’s gain, and for their own fame.
you ask how many roads a man must walk down,
but why would you contently ask a crazy clown?
Don’t drown in the sad sorrow
of the twilight of tomorrow,
but break from the captive’s cage
and step upon the now silent stage
and gallantly give them a sultry show
more beautiful than the soft country snow.
I now know how we all. . . . . . . . . . are:
Ai! lintulinda Lasselanta
pilingevë suyer nalla ganta
kuluvi ya karnevalimar
v’emattë singi Eldamar.
© Copyright 2008 Keegan (UN: gankee-con at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Keegan has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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