I've got a room with a door I'm having trouble leaving anymore There are beams of sunlight running down the walls And I try to sleep to make sense of it all
I'll keep in touch in the meantime While I fool around, living this life Well I assure you I will be just fine In my box of a room where nobody dares to climb
While all the lights are burnt out On the other side of town I can't sleep looking back I'll walk the hundred miles Just to fall face first at her door Underneath her window at the top of the world
--------------------
Haldr, Traveller of the Great Forest
"After all is said and done, a lot more will be said than done."
Hear the war drums calling See the warriors falling The mountain's mist rolls through the dale Masking the horrible wail
The smell of the forests burning A sense that the tide is turning Go run for the river shall guide you And shelter you all way through
Sleep, my child for I'll find you there Sleep, my child and you never fear For the drums of war shall sound in the deep And I'll be with you, my child...sleep
Feel the earth a trembling Leave this land remembering Your father met their swords with his sword And mind my every word
Sleep, my child for I'll find you there Sleep, my child and you never fear For the drums of war shall sound in the deep All I'll be with you, my child...sleep
if i could paint a painting of words each line a brushstroke of love no fear of mistake or rumors unheard but assurance of sunlight above
i hear all the words and i see what i've made and i'm happy, fulfilled to be here all the songs i've not heard lest my hearing doth fade where i find her, the muse, walking near
in all that i see, a walk on a bridge in the lamplight with rain falling slow cold breaths in the night on the wavering wind will awaken the dreams from below
drip...drip the rain falls down and lingers upon my furrowing brow drip...drip the tears start to drown my worries and fears here and now
rain falling down on our back porch trickles slow to the muddy grass i know it don't look like much but it keeps her captive like a flaw in glass
if you should ever spy her wondering 'round these streets by the moonlight shimmering all around her is she real or is she fantasy?
as the days get shorter she loses sleep on nights like this when cryin's the only part of her day she thinks she's happier that way she happens to feel better today
Yeah, I was thinking about adding more to that last one...
Its always great to get feedback on poetry! "The Artist Dissected" was sort of this whole theme running through my head at the time, don't know really where it come from, but I sure know that is related to certain bittersweet attributes of life!
from the silk roads they rode on dark steeds bearing the lyre and the drums they brought their songs through war and love until they met the gods above
green rivers and streams flowed gently as they walked beside their fate lonely songsmiths long ago listen to the rivers flow
for seven years they trod the roads and climbed over mountains tall where the valley was empty and peaceful there they made their resting homes
they told their stories in the moonlight they told their stories in the firelight they sang the songs through the dark night they sang the songs through the midnight
into the mists of erin they made their abode and through the forests and vale on their steeds still rode
watching the stars they rode on from village to village telling their stories and singing songs all they studied and all they knew
spill the water, spill the wine dear fill the flagon, fill the flagon here drink to life and drink to health drink to life and drink to death
after years of lone existence the armored men came riding they brought their swords and burning and turned the lands into hell
they conquered all and pushed away all the knowledge gathered they watched it fall, the lonely people the people of the stars
see the bleeding, hear the crying spill the wine and fear the burning take these words with you and run away take these words with you and remember
What's messed up about that last piece is that I was hearing it through two different Iona songs during the Iona hour last night! Kinda cool, but I do see what you mean there. Always room for improvement!
her voice was faint in the winter's fog waiting for m' lady to come to edge of the shore where i stood in a long boat made of ashen wood
her skin was pale in the morning light i never spied such wondrous beauty and in her hair were the may flowers bright shining over the waters of bremenway
the voice of an angel a long, long time ago reached out to greet my cold lips in the winter snow upon her steed through the mountains she strolled alongside m' lady from the heavens