More drivel...

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Orodrist
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So...end product of four months, ~20 bottles of hard alcohol, untold cartons of cigarettes.

Written in a modified common metre (so no, you can't sing along the House of the Rising Sun, you twits), with elegiac couplets used occasionally. This is fresh off the bench, sloppy, unedited, etc. but it's ready to get a new one ripped, so have at 'er.


So it began, in lands long sought.
Alone his mind stretched far
in pain and darkest thoughts;
his cries the air did scar.

At last, his breath came slow and faint
He spoke, his words unbidden
By mortal whim, he made complaint
of He some thought hidden:

"Nothing inspires, my God. All the world lies before me alone, yet as dust
it remains, ashes long dead. Frail beauty has left me in dusk.

Many a night, I wonder: is this here, all the life before me, empty?
Surely it must be, for what is more bare than quiet ashes."

The night air stilled, as a thought
of pale and vesper fire rose
from ashes kindled now, and caught
in tinder yet damp with woes

His heart was torn as mind did flood
with beauty unlight, as that form
appeared. A flow'r veiled in blood
yet vivid, with life warm.

So rose he, mere man no longer
the fire stoked within him.
For knew he now the Muse stronger
than dull wood, or skies dim

A knight, he was, when made the quest
to find the eternal bloom.
This final deed, so heaven bless'd
carried him to his tomb.

Where now, did he wander those days
untold? By the forlorn mountainside
or crippled brook's long-run malaise
in quiet places abide.

Soon purest snow traced the air
dyed crimson by the moon
and coldest night o'er trees bare
did make the lone man swoon.

Arose that morn in dawn
lit sky, a sword of fire in bitter
chill, gleaming o'er the lawn;
a knight to arm and frost deter

To such a sight he rose that morn
and o'er hilltop did behold
some distant shore past glens forlorn
and there were towers old

Inspired anew, he set his course
down steep and treacherous crag
now roused in mind and scarce remorse
he trod, though clad in rag

Too soon the days arose and set
yet no closer did appear
those fabled towers, hued in regret
til once in sight, the mere

For twas no shore of ocean wide
beheld from distant cliffside
instead a mere of mirror-glass
of breadth that none surpass

On fair shore rested he, wearied
by his journey's solitude
For that was his burden carried;
of all his life, his rood

And there he sat til cold lone night
and pondered by water's edge
as shone on mere his dim firelight
the flames his den and hedge

Then he at last raised voice and cried
and rent the night asunder
til laid by coals as one who died
his sobs as quiet thunder

Hope is patient, this I know, and it wakens as fire, yet it dies slowly.
To fall for love is to feel those flames, hell in your veins and soul.

In morn he woke beside his fire
and glancing 'round the tower
saw colossal pillar and spire
and carved on all, the flow'r

So thus he knew well near him lay
his fairest bloom eternal
again he walked led not astray
hale with vigor vernal

Entered the knight to land untrod
of quiet glen and timeless grove
he wandered in silence, full awed
but to his goal he strove

Amidst green hills he found a cave
an insignificant thing
yet to its depths he thought to brave
of this the poets will sing.

Verdant moss covered its wide maw
yet plunging through tangled vine
he went. In darkness light he saw
for there, obscure, a shrine

To Rose it was, and seldom seen
fairer altar on this earth
he bowed before it then; his queen
needing no cloak nor hearth

All night his vigil held unbroke
and when fair morn rose again
in cave of light from stupor woke
a knight in mountain den

But rose he with vision old
but of no lesser remark
yet now his passion had waxed cold
and his dead eyes grew dark

Far travel'd now and weary long
he sat on stone despairing
for She to whom his heart belong
seemed dying in the spring

Still onward he did press unstopped
undying in his love
for better death or pain to opt
than fail to strive above

Too soon he came to barren waste
untouched by rain; scorched by sun
yet still he walked and made his haste
until the day was won

In doubt and pain he carried on
through sands man cannot grasp
he fought and strove til will was gone
and gave his final gasp

But his last gaze espied serene
the emerald grove far off
and will within waxed hot and keen
the knight his flesh did doff

In his long stride, no closer seemed
the gem in sands consuming
all hope he had maintained and dreamed
fell, his death now looming

Homesick for home unknown he wept
and brashly fought his end
yet all the time his love was kept
though wind his only friend

Til at last he came to mount high
behind him pain and sorrow
he loosed a tearful ember sigh
knowing no tomorrow

His form prostrate he climbed that hill
on hands and knees tortured long
his final sacrifice of will
an end to one so strong

Alas on that crest naught was found
but withered rose eternal
all was in vain though pain abound
and through time infernal

With eyes of disbelief he cried
beyond even dead man's tears
for all was lost; better have died
than live to meet his fears

He could never return through lands
whence came; not through icy mount
nor fair summer glen, nor dry sands
nor mere of youthful fount.

And there he at last understood
cloven he must now cleave
so far from home, his fairest wood
this world him soon to leave

So as flower was died crimson
he sat alone in solace
whispering words heard by no one
save flower flawless

Hope has failed, dead sky. The vesper luster of saturnine sky remains here
mocking my fall as the veil drifts low. All will be lost in night

So it ended in land long fought
alone our knight now dead
beauty so pure he sought
in silence lays his head.
I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do - Robert A Heinlein

Courage ~ Discipline ~ Fidelity ~ Honor ~ Hospitality ~ Industriousness ~ Perseverance ~ Self Reliance ~
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ccgr
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sad but good, nice work!
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Chozon1
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It's like...literary bacon. Excellent.
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