Various poems on my behalf, I assume these should be here

Another late evening musing - and too much Takida in too short time - resulted in this piece.

Confessions of a Grieving Savior

Mea culpa
Greater light
Forgive me of my sins
Listen to my deeds
and prepare to cry

Mea culpa
Speak to night
Embrace me in your arms
Becoming a god isn't easy
it's a foolish thing to do

Mea culpa
No delight
sealed by darkest of lights
a world without dark
is a world without light

Mea culpa
Wanted fight
beyond human to end
the loneliest of fates
living after death

Mea culpa
Dreaming wight
The shadows I feed
linger next to me
and his bones

Mea maxima culpa
Why couldn't I save him?
Last brother to live
last brother to die
I am no longer.

This post has been edited by Umbra on Sep 13 2009, 12:27 PM

It is such a sad poem.

But I'm thrilled that you are writing here again.

Two more pieces - both of them explain what keeps my mind awake at night, in different ways. What I think of as I try to fall asleep. And, as the first in a while, something cheerful. A little.

Fallen>Stood>Rose

When I was younger
I closed my mind
to the others
knew I differed

When I was younger
the pieces of my life
would not assemble
when I fell, stood and rose

I'm not the one
I used to be,
I've changed my life,
and yet I'm me
as time passes by
maybe I'll learn who I am

With wings of steel,
across the sky,
to western shores and holy woods
forgotten faces never known
memories of the future
I could have had with you

The one I see
just every day
passing in the hallways
blowing my mind away
something aching in my heart
when I see your lovely face
You were the one I missed the most
when I fell, stood and rose

Insignificance

Lying on my bed
in a house near the road
in a town beyond the border
in a land of dark and light
at the roof of the world
at the tip of the arm
of a giant beast of old.
Insignificance rising.

When we wall,
world falling apart
flames rise tall.
The one we trusted
giving way to age.
Our world will fall apart
in a puff of smoke and be forgotten.
Insignificance rising.

In times like this,
we must be strong.
Push away the dark fate
that awaits us all.
One way eventually,
we'll join the other team
in a game of life and death
in a game of insignificance.

Cast away the sadness
forgetting all your fears
We cannot heal the madness
coming with the years
We must carry on
even though our path is doomed.
Walking down the stony path
Wearing an insignificant smile.

I have never been able to write poetry, although I attempted it once or twice. I'm so impressed with what you are able to do, Umbra. I like both of these a lot.

A walk home from a relatively boring Walpurgis, and my usual paranoia, inspired this one.

The Illusion of Innocence

Going home
on an empty track
not a man in sight to see my soul
no shadows to attack

This town
a calm April eve
it's a peaceful haven, a tranquil post
yet I wish nothing but to leave

Paradise
isn't here for me
I venture down the empty track
and see where I will be

The moon
shines on so bright
it's easy to forget it here,
that there's a side without a light

Dancers,
so full of love in heart
shall question all they know of me
when their world is torn apart

Forgive me
when I stride into the night
I'm walking on an empty track
and I'm looking for a fight.

Who knows
maybe Pennywise will greet me
give me of his balloons and say:
"I'm so glad you could meet me!"

Memories
this town is full of those
"That's where I used to go to school,
that's how the story goes."

Question,
the blinding light you see
head into the dark of night
play cards with Pennywise and me.

Going home
on an empty track
shadows circle round my soul
with no light to hold them back.
[I]

That's amazing, Umbra. It's truly amazing.

I believe that a time will come when you will be inspired to write in a different mood, in a happier mood, but I wonder if that poetry will be the equal of what you are writing now. Then again, I bet it will, and I hope I am still around to read it.

Very moving, Umbra.

Hm. I didn't think of this as that sad a poem; it's more about trying to make something different out of an ordinary routine. My metaphors might be of the grim variety, though. If I can think of something happy to write about, I will. I'm sure there will be, one day.

Thank you both.