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- Nov 13, 2017
- Messages
- 733
Post 'your' crafts and poems here.
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Poems Section
- Status
- Joined
- Nov 13, 2017
- Messages
- 733
"Shelter"
Touch me with just a flickering thread of light,
With a flick of your fingers, just a little more,
Never leave me in this grave darkness of night,
I came from a world of pain and I came by your door.
Shelter me because I feel crippled by endless warfare,
The ripple within my mind cannot picture tomorrow no more,
Shelter me until I sleep and dream in cradle of your care,
I could dream of me lying on the sand of the hushing shore
Shush me not when I speak, whisper that you will let me in,
Beside me, beside you, we are one and never let me go,
With my eclipse and your sunrise, a new light could begin,
So shine atop of me until I lie back over my own shadow.
-Draenei Poem-
©Battleborn
Touch me with just a flickering thread of light,
With a flick of your fingers, just a little more,
Never leave me in this grave darkness of night,
I came from a world of pain and I came by your door.
Shelter me because I feel crippled by endless warfare,
The ripple within my mind cannot picture tomorrow no more,
Shelter me until I sleep and dream in cradle of your care,
I could dream of me lying on the sand of the hushing shore
Shush me not when I speak, whisper that you will let me in,
Beside me, beside you, we are one and never let me go,
With my eclipse and your sunrise, a new light could begin,
So shine atop of me until I lie back over my own shadow.
-Draenei Poem-
©Battleborn
- Joined
- Sep 3, 2018
- Messages
- 6
Djuna Barnes, 1892 - 1982
The mortal fruit upon the bough
Hands above the nuptial bed.
The cat-bird in the tree returns
The forfeit of his mutual vow.
The hard, untimely apple of
The branch that feeds on watered rain,
Takes the place upon her lips
Of her late lamented love.
Many hands together press,
Shaped within a static prayer
Recall to one the chorister
Docile in his sexless dress.
The temperate winds reclaim the iced
Remorseless vapours of the snow.
The only pattern in the mind
Is the cross behind the Christ.
The mortal fruit upon the bough
Hands above the nuptial bed.
The cat-bird in the tree returns
The forfeit of his mutual vow.
The hard, untimely apple of
The branch that feeds on watered rain,
Takes the place upon her lips
Of her late lamented love.
Many hands together press,
Shaped within a static prayer
Recall to one the chorister
Docile in his sexless dress.
The temperate winds reclaim the iced
Remorseless vapours of the snow.
The only pattern in the mind
Is the cross behind the Christ.
- Status
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