EDIT: Finally decided on a title. and changed the poem a tad bit to suit me better. it was gnawing at me.
heh, 'ello few of you might know who i am, but most probably do not.
well i'm here for a while anyway.
so here's a little tidbit of my creative ineptitude.
Yes, that is the famed humbled artist approach.
ANyway, flames, criticism, and style change comments are appreciated.
~~~
Twisted Faith
The days have passed
of angels in the sky
who now but be a ship's juried mast.
While the original beneath the ocean lie.
To think of that simple yester year
Where lithe lasses frolicked in pagan sense
free of undoubted sin and all its peer. ;
Never again! Even at thousand Peter-Pence
All this roots in perennial thrift
of Balder who lost his human person
to a timeless void for choice heaven's gift.
Gone from this land he saved from done undone.
Now this time but lingers forward,
where Angels lie in stone
than on cloud; A time now disarray'd
in a faith restricting and alone
All that is now be memory.
of childer who stay wall-shackled
in fear godly wrath and love of Whiteash tree.
in a faith led by tithe to those rich crackled
still the Whiteash tree is gone.
Where Balder bled himself dry,
for sins of others on our earth-forlorn
And Woden in majesty shed a silent cry.
For this loving deity's demise
sought abrupt unshodden tears
in all, regardless of familial despise.
As both tree and divine disappeared to music of deific spheres.
The wild lot tore the sky asunder by cries adrift.
"Balder! Balder, thank ye lord for yon sacrifice."
The lost priestly lot renewed the last crying shift
with words unlike the ones said before: portends of cruel demise.
"Cristos, Ye brought to me new vision
"preposterous for you to be in pagan pantheon
"ye son of only nameless God too mighty to shun.
"Cristos! Cristos and not Balder of boor-lot plebian."
this the tale of faiths that clash.
Ashen wood forts fell to Pitch and Tar
Joy and grace renewed as stoic blind faith rash.
both faiths ever the same, just doubt clouded hearts all.
heh, 'ello few of you might know who i am, but most probably do not.
well i'm here for a while anyway.
so here's a little tidbit of my creative ineptitude.
Yes, that is the famed humbled artist approach.
ANyway, flames, criticism, and style change comments are appreciated.
~~~
Twisted Faith
The days have passed
of angels in the sky
who now but be a ship's juried mast.
While the original beneath the ocean lie.
To think of that simple yester year
Where lithe lasses frolicked in pagan sense
free of undoubted sin and all its peer. ;
Never again! Even at thousand Peter-Pence
All this roots in perennial thrift
of Balder who lost his human person
to a timeless void for choice heaven's gift.
Gone from this land he saved from done undone.
Now this time but lingers forward,
where Angels lie in stone
than on cloud; A time now disarray'd
in a faith restricting and alone
All that is now be memory.
of childer who stay wall-shackled
in fear godly wrath and love of Whiteash tree.
in a faith led by tithe to those rich crackled
still the Whiteash tree is gone.
Where Balder bled himself dry,
for sins of others on our earth-forlorn
And Woden in majesty shed a silent cry.
For this loving deity's demise
sought abrupt unshodden tears
in all, regardless of familial despise.
As both tree and divine disappeared to music of deific spheres.
The wild lot tore the sky asunder by cries adrift.
"Balder! Balder, thank ye lord for yon sacrifice."
The lost priestly lot renewed the last crying shift
with words unlike the ones said before: portends of cruel demise.
"Cristos, Ye brought to me new vision
"preposterous for you to be in pagan pantheon
"ye son of only nameless God too mighty to shun.
"Cristos! Cristos and not Balder of boor-lot plebian."
this the tale of faiths that clash.
Ashen wood forts fell to Pitch and Tar
Joy and grace renewed as stoic blind faith rash.
both faiths ever the same, just doubt clouded hearts all.
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