Array ( [sid] => 143621 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Tortuous Sleep of Love [time] => 2008-07-01 12:39:06 [hometext] => I just wrote this - it may yet be rough. My love (what I have left... ) to the friends I've found here... [bodytext] => Ink… black upon the cobbles
From veins near dry
The curtain is drawn
The weapons are chosen
Yet I am unarmed
Sword not drawn
Whence I be quartered
Still no reprieve

Tossed to the dungeon
My prize for feats
My eyes to shadows
Dark… the pain you’ve wrought
Whence the knightly battle was your heart it sought
The beast within unleashed in pain
Not so knightly
Mere peasant I be
Lost not only your heart
But mine within.

No poultice of relief
No cure in wine
Your eyes are veiled
Your mask carried well
While biding my time was led to hell
In a well of misery
Drowned in tears

And I am the dead
Living in sleep
Of a thousand years
No “White” to keep nor pained relief
My princess bride shall hold my heart
In a box of wood
Beside her bed.

Beside her bed my heart shall keep
And I shall sleep a tortuous death
Alone in my crypt
Among the cobs
Till my princes grants thy kiss
…brings back my heart
And I shall sleep a tortuous death
A thousand years
Till my princes grants thy kiss
…brings back my heart. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 167 [topic] => 22 [informant] => wheels [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Tortuous Sleep of Love


Tortuous Sleep of Love
Date: Tuesday, 1st July 2008 @ 12:39:06 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: wheels
Ink… black upon the cobbles
From veins near dry
The curtain is drawn
The weapons are chosen
Yet I am unarmed
Sword not drawn
Whence I be quartered
Still no reprieve

Tossed to the dungeon
My prize for feats
My eyes to shadows
Dark… the pain you’ve wrought
Whence the knightly battle was your heart it sought
The beast within unleashed in pain
Not so knightly
Mere peasant I be
Lost not only your heart
But mine within.

No poultice of relief
No cure in wine
Your eyes are veiled
Your mask carried well
While biding my time was led to hell
In a well of misery
Drowned in tears

And I am the dead
Living in sleep
Of a thousand years
No “White” to keep nor pained relief
My princess bride shall hold my heart
In a box of wood
Beside her bed.

Beside her bed my heart shall keep
And I shall sleep a tortuous death
Alone in my crypt
Among the cobs
Till my princes grants thy kiss
…brings back my heart
And I shall sleep a tortuous death
A thousand years
Till my princes grants thy kiss
…brings back my heart.

This poem is Copyright © wheels


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