From time to time a poem

From 'Ulysses' by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

"Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

Take my Breath

Will you stand on the edge of perception and gleam into madness.
Turn the known inside out and throw it to the unknown.
Will you brave the emotions you fear the most
in order to say that in the darkness your light was your own.

Step inside that which you fear and learn to love.
Release the grip you think you have on what you thought you knew.
Let love in, bask in it, revel in it, understand you don't own it.
Now give it away to the universe and watch it fly from you.

In these moments we are everything there is to be
We are love and hate, life and death
full of emotion in a moment we never saw coming.
These are the rare and powerful moments that take our breath.

~Json

This one kind of sums up how and why I am here now. MTFBWY


My Freedom

I trust those who offer me sight and yet they blind me so
Down their path I go, searching for my life in their shadow.
Sacrificing each step to the illusion of forward movement
but only standing in the stagnant Dogma of good intent.

Bleeding out freedom, embalmed with hope and wishes.
Tied to a fear of Death itself and the hollowness it leaves.
I don't wish to travel this path but they offer safety.
Safety from the evils they themselves have created.

I strip away the myth, the lies, and the fantasy
I strip away the hope, the wishes and safety.
I stand, Naked, exposed, fearless and focused.
I stand at the start of my path, my choice, my freedom.

~Json

Dulce Et Decorum Est

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

- Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

Terabyte of dreams

The reactor of my faith died out.
Self-preservation as emergency source.
Intact, the spine of the ship, nihil the spirit,
Ship slips into space - durable and aimless.

All systems to the minimum.
Team moved to the refrigerator, anabiosis.
Processor core to the calculation's continuum.
A captain to the terabyte of dreams.

Two

Weakened sun shifted spectrum.
Earth's in the dark. Snow-white coma.
One remains. The Other goes - in weightlessness.
Interstellar ship on a single vector.
 
Persevere in the frozen night.
Afraid to fall or pull off the snowshoes.
Fire. The steam from the coffee. Thaws lips.
And listens to the silent chorus of silver points.

Heavy dreams, floating body.
Artificial light. Disobedient thoughts.
Radiance of the mainframe. Attachment to the numbers.
Earl Grey in a bowl. London, Jack - after the job.

Steel and shiny space falcon.
A feather - a missile, thermonuclear kernel.
All might of creation and chaos he's keeping
One single man, icy squint, lucid eyes.

The Feather pushed into the unknown. In leviathan Sun.
What now?.. - expectations and fears out of nowhere.
You doubt? Strive to hope. You despair? Crave for miracle.
Analyze, have faith, pray. And fight.

(mine, translated from Russian, lost a lot in translation for me)

Lighthouse - For Alexandre

Slow-burning stars wheel over all
As turning soundless beams alight
Blue coastline falls and rises, falls
And rises, breaking through the night
And to the distant ships it calls
Stretching to the swirling sky

Stand in silence, stand alone
Move there softly as in breeze
While tempests rend through hill and home
While tidal swells smash from the sea
And simplify the world you own
Project through chaos clarity

Though rocks await in fathoms dark
We fix our course by monuments
Within whose chance and slight remarks
We find a truth, a permanence
Beneath one guardian each embarks
As pilgrim to the firmament

Which stands across
This endless, lightless sea.

tzb wrote: Lighthouse - For Alexandre

Slow-burning stars wheel over all
As turning soundless beams alight
Blue coastline falls and rises, falls
And rises, breaking through the night
And to the distant ships it calls
Stretching to the swirling sky

Stand in silence, stand alone
Move there softly as in breeze
While tempests rend through hill and home
While tidal swells smash from the sea
And simplify the world you own
Project through chaos clarity

Though rocks await in fathoms dark
We fix our course by monuments
Within whose chance and slight remarks
We find a truth, a permanence
Beneath one guardian each embarks
As pilgrim to the firmament

Which stands across
This endless, lightless sea.

Merci, Stu-lad ! :blush:

Once upon a time there was a not-so happy prince, (oscar wilde anyone?)

He got lost pondering about life's riddle;

And no one has seen him since.



One day a girl found him sitting alone, lost within himself;

She smiled saying,"Hi!", he didn't so much as look at her

— a terse tacit 'goodbye.'



Only years later, after warding off an allegorical alligator

that mistook his thoughts for food,

did he realize: being all by himself was no good.



With this in mind, he set out to repay her kindness in kind;

Literally hand picking all the black roses he could find.

Is this signalling the end of his grief? Alas, fate took to mischief



For it was not to be so- what a fell blow!

Fortunately he didn't know, or perhaps he did,

just enough not to show it in his deeds.



Retreating back into his shell, he wished her (fare)well;

Setting sun to his back, playing an Anathema track,

his 'The Thinker" posture said it all.

Play in the river,
Until the moon comes out.
Lay in the grass,
Snout to snout.

A tail of strength,
Shining so bold.
Wrapped with another,
Soft and reddish gold.

True lovers forever,
With tails so grand.
The Otter of the River,
And The Fox of the Land.