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Hello people, you've reached the
Poetry Corner
This first one is a beautiful poem, written for my 10th grade English class, entitled
Destiny of Angelic
But first on earth, as the Vampress hath sent
And ghostly she did haunt her native place;
Her corpse dead but from it's tomb shall be rent
To feed on the blood of all human race.
There from her daughter, sister, and husband
At midnight drain the gentle stream of life.
Where once a calm glow, now ghastly pale hand
Stripping a love with piecing bite of strife.
Romanticly teasing, sinister eyes;
Intensly glowing green, the eyes of death.
With the fading light, forever more dies.
Gently falling slips the slow, soft last breath..
Every night, she takes back a relic,
But the terror shall end with Angelic!
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And here we have the next one, a kind of a sequel to Destiny of Angelic, which I'm sure you will find to be a bit appalling, considering the fact that it deals so much with human nature and our own ignorance and fear of the unknown and that which is not like us...
A Last Love's Loss
And our two lives were good, with our fine art.
Our radiant white teeth and soft red lips
Gently wet, with thine own best blood shall drip.
The foe said "With evil spirits you lark;
Thou holdest converse with all things dark!"
And these were the truthful things said by Pip-
He told all those who of blood could not sip.
The cold metal stake they drove through your heart.
Then they saw me; A thing "unearthly".
By their sweet mortal fear I was heightened.
To God for purity so did they pray!!
Saw me change before their eyes, angrily,
And they in horror shrank away, frightened
Of a spectre far more accursed than they..
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Now I know this one isn't mine, but I love this poem, and I feel I should share it with those of you who have not read this one yet. I still argue that the man in this selection has schizophrenia and is thinking to kill himself.. Offer me your view, please.
Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
(by Robert Frost)
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near;
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harnes bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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Butterfly
Fly little butterfly,
Fly away into your sweet oblivion,
But take me with you
For I do not want to be here.
I want to know love, caring,
And compassion.
Fly little butterfly,
Take all my worries
And fly high into the sky
With them,
Then drop them into the lake.
Walk with me across the bridge
To yonder peaceful meadow
And let our troubles hound us no longer..
~Rachel
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