Old English Poem

  Prologue The village nestled beneath the cliffs, Where winds howled fierce and tales would shift. A place where time both crawled and flew, And men faced choices stark and true. In the shadow of their final breath, They defied the looming touch of death. "Do not go gentle," they’d declare, For life was fire, not despair. Chapter 1: The Old Sailor By the harbor stood Captain Roan, His body frail, his strength near gone. Once he tamed the wildest seas, Now he leaned on gnarled trees. The waves called out, a siren's song, “Your time is over; you don’t belong.” But Roan, with eyes like stormy skies, Growled his reply, defying lies: “Do not go gentle, oh raging sea, Your tides have not the strength to bury me. I’ll face your wrath, I’ll stand and fight, And rage against the dying light.” Chapter 2: The Widow In a cottage draped in ivy’s grip, Lived Greta, her world a sinking ship. Her love long gone to war’s cruel game, But her heart still burned, a...

  We Real Cool: A New Poem Story Prologue Underneath the flickering streetlights of the city, in the forgotten corners where shadows stretched and stories never reached the ears of the bustling world, there lived a group of seven. They called themselves "The Chosen Few." Not for any grand reason, but because they believed in their own coolness, their own defiance of a world that never seemed to want them. The Pool Hall Oath They stood by the cracked door of the Golden Spot, A dive pool hall where dreams were bought. Cue sticks clutched like swords in hand, They carved rebellion in concrete sand. "We real cool," they often said, Living fast, unafraid of dread. Not tied to clocks or schoolyard chains, They danced with life in fleeting lanes. Chapter 1: Jazz in the Bones The jukebox sang of saxophones' cry, Their rhythm made time seem to fly. June was the leader, sharp as a blade, Her laughter a melody never to fade. Her brother, Cole, a poet in di...

We walk the line, both soft and bold, With hearts too young, and dreams too old. We dare the night, we greet the dawn, With voices raised and eyes withdrawn. We stand apart, yet stand so near, Chasing the thrill, ignoring fear. With every step, a world unfolds, A story told, though never bold. We laugh at rules and break them still, Chasing the wind, we bend at will. A swing of the wrist, a glance, a grin, We play the game, but never win. We know the streets, the alleyways, The songs of life, the endless maze. With eyes too wide and hands too small, We rise, we fall, we stand, we crawl. We dream of places far away, Of brighter lights, of skies of gray. We think we know, yet still we seek, The truth within the lies we speak. We steal a glance, we steal a kiss, We find a love, but something’s missed. We chase the night, we beg the day, But always find we're led astray. We speak in rhymes and cryptic tones, A language lost, yet always known. We twist the wo...

When the path before you twists and turns, And every step is one you earn, When doubt whispers soft in your ear, Yet you keep walking without fear. When storms arise, and skies turn gray, But you stand firm, won’t drift away, When others falter, lose their ground, Yet in your heart, resolve is found. When you can dream but not be blind, To life’s sharp edges, to humankind, When hopes arise but never bind, Your reason strong, your heart aligned. When you can face both loss and gain, And treat them equal, joy and pain, When fleeting praise won't make you soar, Nor harsh critique sink you to the floor. When you can build, with steady hands, A castle strong on shifting sands, And should it fall, as castles do, Rebuild with strength, begin anew. When you can keep your head held high, While questions linger, asking why, When answers come but bring no peace, Yet still you strive, you never cease. When you can speak, but speak with care, And hear the silence hang...

April comes, but no flowers bloom, Only dust upon the winds resume. In the waste land, the earth lies bare, A silent hymn fills the arid air. Beneath the ashen skies, they tread, Shadows of the living, dreams long dead. The rivers dried, their beds now stone, A forgotten realm where seeds aren't sown. The sun hangs low, a weary eye, Its golden gaze too faint to try. The wind is sharp, it cuts the skin, A whispering ghost of what has been. The city crumbles, its towers lean, Brick and bone in shades obscene. The streets once lively, now a maze, A labyrinth of forgotten days. "Who will come?" a voice does cry, "To bring the rain, to heal the sky?" A figure stirs, cloaked in despair, Their footsteps echo, loud and rare. Through the desolate world they roam, Searching for what feels like home. A book of verses in their hand, Each word a key to understand. The past lies buried, deep and cold, A tale of glory, of hearts made bold. The songs...

In the land where the river bends, Where the mountains meet the skies, There stood a palace, grand and vast, A vision born of whispered sighs. Mirzabad, the city crowned, Its towers high, the walls unbound. A kingdom built upon a dream, Where time and space do not redeem. The air was thick with incense sweet, A scent of flowers at the feet, And by the river, swift and deep, The waters roared as if to weep. From the hills to the plains below, The land was lush with verdant glow. And in the shadows, deep and wide, The secrets of the earth did hide. The moon above, a silver disk, Did pierce the sky with light so brisk. Its glow upon the palace spire Set the night alight with fire. Within the walls, the vision grew, A place of dreams, both old and new. A thousand voices whispered tales, Of forgotten gods and ancient spells. The emperor, clad in gold and jade, Sat high upon his jeweled shade. His eyes were deep, his mind a maze, And in his gaze, the world did ha...

Twas early morn, the mist did creep, And shadows long began to leap. The forest stirred, with whispers low, As tales began to softly flow. In the depths where wild things roam, A monster waits, far from home. The Jambrosh, fierce, with eyes aglow, It slithered, hissed, and moved below. It had no wings, no claws or teeth, But in its gaze, a darkness wreath. Its shape was veiled in smoke and fog, A creature born from dream and bog. The villagers would often say, "Beware the dark, stay far away!" For none who ventured dared return, And whispered tales did twist and turn. But one young lad, with heart so bold, Decided he would be so bold, To seek the beast, with sword in hand, And find the creature in the land. He packed his bag, with bread and cheese, And set out through the swaying trees. His eyes were sharp, his mind was set, To face the Jambrosh and forget. Through the twists and turns, he ventured deep, Where shadows twisted, and night did creep. ...