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Post by AquarianM on Oct 1, 2020 0:52:57 GMT -6
The Bones Of October...
The hollow hills of the Old Folk, How they whisper the cries of a chill wind, The craggy place of stones and bones, All shadows and spiders, Grey with mist where only lichen grow, No twig nor vine, Nor leaf and naught blade of grass, Cold bones ground upon the stones, Secret ways lit with torches of the dead, The place where the old souls of Celts grieve, Rusted with the ancient blood, Prey to the sins of Rome, The ghosts of Lugh's children weep, Tears of frost and shards of ice, As the North Star pivots the World, Seeing what their progeny have become, Constellations bear baleful witness, For we are drunk on the altar wine of Rome, It is blood and dust, It is a dark harvest, Upon which October's barrows feed, So spider crawl, Spider bite, With your web of silken night, Winter comes to your cocoon, A thousand years before your June, Be silent, And close your black eyes.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford © 09/30/2020
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Post by QueenFoxy on Oct 1, 2020 9:15:16 GMT -6
Wow!! Dan, this is reminiscent of Edgar Alan Poe, and he is a great favorite of mine. I love this. Great job.
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Post by Catlady2710 on Oct 1, 2020 10:16:17 GMT -6
Very cryptic!
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Post by AquarianM on Oct 2, 2020 0:44:37 GMT -6
Wow!! Dan, this is reminiscent of Edgar Alan Poe, and he is a great favorite of mine. I love this. Great job.
QF, the series that is inspiring me is called " Cursed, " and it's on Netflix. It is an extremely well done complete revamp of the Arthurian stories. Thank you. Dam
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Post by AquarianM on Oct 2, 2020 0:45:01 GMT -6
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Post by Catlady2710 on Oct 2, 2020 9:16:10 GMT -6
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Post by AquarianM on Oct 3, 2020 10:18:59 GMT -6
Oops, sorry Cat. I kind of got interrupted at the end there. Dan
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Post by goldenmyst on Oct 13, 2020 6:38:38 GMT -6
Magnificent my friend!!! As an aside, this part brought back memories of the cog railway on Mt. Washington, New Hampshire, above the treeline:
The craggy place of stones and bones, All shadows and spiders, Grey with mist where only lichen grow, No twig nor vine, Nor leaf and naught blade of grass, Cold bones ground upon the stones,
When you write poetry you really get down to it. Fantastic poetry of the macabre done as no one else can.
John
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Post by AquarianM on Oct 14, 2020 0:56:34 GMT -6
Magnificent my friend!!! As an aside, this part brought back memories of the cog railway on Mt. Washington, New Hampshire, above the treeline: The craggy place of stones and bones, All shadows and spiders, Grey with mist where only lichen grow, No twig nor vine, Nor leaf and naught blade of grass, Cold bones ground upon the stones, When you write poetry you really get down to it. Fantastic poetry of the macabre done as no one else can. John Thank you, John. It's the season of the night. Dan
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