Train Your Trust...
Just let your rigid resolve dissipate, and observe the
bottled imagination that was smeared deftly on
stretched fabric, increasingly laden by a generous, gullible man.
With every motion, shades, colours tame and
meaning culminates.
The Man's Spirit strengthens beyond the working day,
well into the brisk darkness of the morning, in fact.
The minimal lights become more than muse:
On display are stars and moon rays, and anonymous shapes and shadows;
then, the simmering company of aberrations
that were laid down during a summer.
The Framed Artefact that now bears bold strokes,
is now furnished square on the wall in front of you.
The turps smell has well evaporated. Perhaps 300 years ago.
If you sit still enough, vivid movements appear.
Follow the curved textures: First it manifests in timid ripples, then,
if you do waver, gestures jut!
There is a Beguiling Girl in frill, skin of blanched pink,
fingers reach for pais on held-out stalk.
You can invite her sent, of fresh bathed, hot bare skin,
and the soft sweetness of her lips meets the blood-coloured syrup.
Listen to her whispers at you: "M... Me rescate... E... El amor es lo que i desnudo"
she also aims her voice at the second figure...
The Armoured Gallant tackles a profane agitated fantasm;
forced blade and clad, and masculine pulp holds off the formidable barrage.
Ideate the swarm off-frame and beyond the horizon,
while the fiends snarl, roar, threatening the hush,
the innocent feminine pretence deceives, for she does not whimper at the arousal.
She drifts at the side, limbering in safety.
The Origin of the Bleed is clear when you follow the trail.
There *are* fine enough brushes!
To show the clavicle bite marks.
Yes, they would be the same -- discoloured grey -- in life.
The radial flesh flails over the first fallen tyrant's lips,
but as the barrage advances ravenously, still, the mortal isn't fazed.
As Your Gaze pans with curiosity,
meeting the next menace's cold, startling confrontation.
It deliberately points its outrageous exoskeletals at you!
But you can't pinpoint where your body quivers --
realising *it's you* of the vassal -- you hesitate.
Should you elude? Can't you keep a grip? Your oily soles impede.
Your Consummate Slayings delouse the hills.
Raw malignants meet the piercing point, pass the foibles.
Seven strikes and victories per hour;
over seven days, but only six nights,
now you raise your sword higher with every relief
as the early sun rays bring vivid light...
To You Our Lord, Lady affirms aloud now: "Ver de cerca!"
Her promise soothes from behind the unnerving advance.
Alas! It's only been defeating your, and the maiden's rendezvous.
You realise now that the armour, indeed, shrouds you!
You bleed but are now wielding a mace, it inflicts the final blows without ado!
The beasts, each, in turn, fall, and the medieval landscape is revealed!
As The Desirable Fief appears -- a knitted feeling affects you... --
and behind that, The Kingdom!
Within reach and under shade,
My Lady beacons to you at the foot of the hill below.
But! Don't let your eyes rest, and keep firm, your protection
and stead, as you advance.
The Daily Cald of the morn
had abided without your eye.
Hint lies in the yet untrusting goldfinches' perch.
The remaining ebbs, in your mind attract you
to Your Riches.
Hom is nigh.
Comments
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omg
this is such a great poem. i am a fan of really long poems. this gives me all that i want to read, just in a really long form. there were a couple spelling mistakes such as the word "Artefact"....i think that it's spelled "artifact".
another word that i think might be spelled wrong is the word "ado!"....it's a french word, but i'm not sure of the spelling. look it up on the french dictionary website.
hope that my advice wasn't too harsh or blunt!!!!
all the best in the future
Sachiro K ^_^
language: 5, rhythm: 5, subject: 5, tone: 5, form: 5.
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