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Sneer 01-28-2007 01:39 PM

untitled #2
 
In the light of a winters night, I sit, I yearn, yearn for the times
Where the glisten of your eye lit the darkest of days.
The warmth of your touch embroiled all that chilled.
Yet those days have gone, I’m left in this cold, dark abyss,
Bereft of the love I so sorely miss.

Oh! Why does this pain scorch the core, the core of this stoic temple,
Built for the sanguine reverence of the truest of love.
For the unaltered bliss that lit the stars.
Unveiling the moon, bathing the bloom in a benign glow,
A sweeping cascade of ghostly beauty in full flow.

Alas, the cascade met the raging torrents, baying chasms, a void,
Twisting and savaging the fragile junctures of a fledging seed,
Layer by layer dismembering the walls we called life,
Until, exposed to the evils of a bitter reality,
We collapse into the void, victims of our own frailty.

So here I sit, in times of change, conspicuous in all I do,
Your smell still rankles, in this mind, a barren scope of solemn lust,
And though I cope, if cope is to reflect, the pain is tied around my neck,
In this old harbour, sits your ship, solitary as grey clouds swirl,
And still I believe in you, my girl.

sleepy jack 01-28-2007 04:02 PM

I like it, especially how it ended.

skindredluver 01-28-2007 05:05 PM

I like the whole thing a lot;)

Loser 01-28-2007 05:06 PM

I second that:)

Crowe 01-28-2007 06:07 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by Stu (Post 329602)
In the light of a winters night, I sit, I yearn, yearn for the times
Where the glisten of your eye lit the darkest of days.
The warmth of your touch embroiled all that chilled.
Yet those days have gone, I’m left in this cold, dark abyss,
Bereft of the love I so sorely miss.

Oh! Why does this pain scorch the core, the core of this stoic temple,
Built for the sanguine reverence of the truest of love.
For the unaltered bliss that lit the stars.
Unveiling the moon, bathing the bloom in a benign glow,
A sweeping cascade of ghostly beauty in full flow.

Alas, the cascade met the raging torrents, baying chasms, a void,
Twisting and savaging the fragile junctures of a fledging seed,
Layer by layer dismembering the walls we called life,
Until, exposed to the evils of a bitter reality,
We collapse into the void, victims of our own frailty.

So here I sit, in times of change, conspicuous in all I do,
Your smell still rankles, in this mind, a barren scope of solemn lust,
And though I cope, if cope is to reflect, the pain is tied around my neck,
In this old harbour, sits your ship, solitary as grey clouds swirl,
And still I believe in you, my girl.

what is this word!!!?

Sneer 01-28-2007 07:01 PM

ran·kle /ˈræŋkəl/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[rang-kuhl] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation verb, -kled, -kling.
–verb (used without object) 1. (of unpleasant feelings, experiences, etc.) to continue to cause keen irritation or bitter resentment within the mind; fester; be painful.
–verb (used with object) 2. to cause keen irritation or bitter resentment in: His colleague's harsh criticism rankled him for days

Crowe 01-28-2007 09:46 PM

Wow. I haven't come across a word I haven't heard in a LONG, LONG time! That is ridiculous. Kudos to you good sir!


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