So. I be one of those peeps ^_^ I wanted to share some poetry with DJ, and he liked it, so...well here goes
A Touch of Gold:
A hint of red,
A touch of gold,
The warmer days relinquish hold.
What learns to live
Must learn to die,
For winter comes,
And that's no lie.
The leaves will fall,
The grass will burn,
For winter's grasp can be quite stern.
The woodland creatures go to ground,
Now not a whisker will be found.
Gorgeous crystals,
Stunning nights,
Secret lovelies don't like lights.
So when the sun does rest its head,
And fur-red creatures go to bed,
The fae can finally have their fun,
Once all the summer work is done.
The Little Folk will sing and dance,
And princesses will twirl and prance.
But once the sunlight casts its glow,
The fun is over!
Time to go.
They'll dance, and prance,
And laugh, and sing,
As seasons loop eternal rings.
They teach the young,
And soothe the old;
A hint of life,
A touch of gold.
And here's just one more for this post. I'll wait for some other peeps to post before I post more so I don't make monster-long posts >.>
Rejoice:
Rejoice, my friends, the King is dead!
The crown is taken from his head.
No longer shall you toil and dread,
While the King lays in his bed.
The love he claimed he felt for you
Was all a lie; I believed him too.
But now, ye rest, sons young and old.
You let me worry about the gold
That buys your wheat, your corn, your feed,
And which you spend on dark, warm mead.
I'll fight, I'll toil, I'll work, I'll bleed
So you have strength to sow your seed.
Much time has passed, your Lords and Dames,
I have but just learned all your names.
You claim to love me, then ask for more;
Why do you knock upon my door?
My body aches, now old and sore;
You all just ask me: more, more, more!
My hair is white, my bones are old;
I've let you spent all of the gold.
Now as I cower behind my throne,
I hear the great, wood draw bridge groan.
I quake in fear;
Do I dare peer
Behind the throne to watch you leer
At me, my son, you loved me not!
Your wild ambition boils hot.
I fought, I toiled, I worked, I bled;
And in return, remove my head.
My laws must have displeased you, son,
Your freedom, you have finally won.
Rejoice, my friends, the King is dead;
The crown is taken from his head.
