Bleh with Barry

Random with a cynical twist of lime.

Posts Tagged ‘Excalibur

Gone

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The weird sisters

Sing a tune to

Me. In my darkened

Space underwater over air.

*

They sing of your

Coming, but I will

Not be her

Waiting when you arrive.

*

Long ago, I left the

Place your servants

Prepared for me. I also

Left you weapon, eternally held over me.

*

I went to land to see the

Beauties You banned

Me from. I ignore your

Desire of me.

*

May you find your

Treasure at the

Bottom of the Lake.

I no longer dwell there in you.

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Written by barryr22

October 5, 2011 at 10:41 pm

Mortality or the Slipping of a Mind

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Not

A            rosy

sunset

Warm

Explosive

Bright

Beauty

Winking against

The immortal sun and the declining moon.

You are a king of the ages, and I know that

And knew that long

Before    my   virtue

Was       tested      in

Regards     to     You

I would be punished

For my   love   of you.

Now, my immortal king, I writhe in agony because I do not

Know when I will encounter you again. Is my      heart    like

A stone that you will rip your trophy from

And then leave me to grow vines of atrophy,

Callousness,  shame,   and  reviling? Are you

Simply going to toss me aside when I’m needed

No more? Should I even be thinking these thoughts

About your noble, perfect self? Maybe the water is starting to rot my

Brain, and I will become senile and old while you will never wilt, never

Be anything but Arthur, the bearer of the only sword I shall ever touch, caress, and enfold.

Written by barryr22

September 30, 2011 at 6:02 pm

A Thought of Leaving

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Day after day,

I wait, but

You never come.

*

While I can and do

Breathe underwater,

My lungs get tired.

*

I am your lady,

But I have begun to

Question your authority.

*

Why should I wait?

You never waited on

Me, anytime.

*

I carry your burden,

A martyr never named,

Never thanked, just a chest.

*

I hold your treasure and

Rot as I think you will

Open me and feel me.

*

Alas, you never come,

And I wilt while

Your glory and pride shine.

*

I will not wait much

Longer, for I am getting

Bored and tired.

*

I caress a sword,

But it’s never you

And never will be.

*

Perhaps, I will leave

My Lake, leaving behind

All my sorrow.

*

If I do not wait,

You will not control

Me, never again.

*

However, maybe I am

Too rash. Maybe your

Horse died and slowed you.

*

Maybe, you caught

A Cold at

Christmastide.

*

Maybe I am

Hopeless and need to

Move on….No matter how hard I try.

Written by barryr22

September 29, 2011 at 10:20 pm

The Stone

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Bound by Merlin to

Serve as a warden,

A guardian to a

Mystic sword.

*

An iron flower

Standing in a

Lake, rusting while

I hold immortal steel.

*

Waiting to Bloom in the

Spring of your call,

In the sunlight of

Your countenance.

*

Will you use

Me, rape my

Heart and soul to

Toss me away again?

*

Do not leave me.

I will not betray you to

Another bed, some

Other knight.

*

I am yours forever.

Let me be with you,

My eternal light,

My king, My Arthur.

Written by barryr22

September 29, 2011 at 10:06 pm

Posted in Poetry

Tagged with , ,

The Lady of the Lake: A Series of Poems

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So, I’ve been writing a lot of poetry of late that has been dealing with the Lady of the Lake. Honestly, part of this is because I am in a Medieval literature class dealing with monsters or whether part of me relates to her on some level…anyway, I am fascinated by the character and what happens with her after the whole Arthur thing takes place. As you’ll notice from many of my poems, I kind of want to give her back the sword after the events that lead to Arthur  being placed on the island of Avalon (I’m using bits and pieces of folklore and literary tales to create my own world). For me, she holds the sword and waits for Arthur or someone to return to her, but is this the only way that she can be? So, I hope you enjoy my ramblings of the lake as I will hopefully continue to have fun writing them.

Written by barryr22

September 29, 2011 at 9:58 pm

Calibur

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Edward Burne-Jones [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

A sword of many

Names. Buried

Deep within History

And this sheath of

Unsullied flesh.

*

Within a Lake of

Death and Time

Waiting on a

Unifier to come

And Summon it and me, again.

*

Wise men and Magus

Have spoken of your

Ascendance from birth

Brought by Other to a

Church stationed stone.

*

Pulled deep from the

Womb of rock, you

Ruled using might,

Magic, and Mirth.

Shown to all.

*

Yet, by a son Your

Kingdom and crown were

Broken and defamed but

Though your body was

Distressed, your soul survived.

*

You wait, I wait, and the

Land of Brittany waits for

Your return, but we only

Hear whispers from that

Mystic isle of healing slumber.

*

Maybe the fae still

Sing your lullaby and

I am too far removed to

Listen to Mab, the Weird

Sisters and all.

*

Perhaps, it is just I

Woken from dreaming to

Suffer and writhe, a

Paralyzed Observer to the plagued

Malice of a suffering world.

*

Perhaps, I am punished in a

Waking nightmare, where I will

Wait and wait and wait until

You come to claim your glided Prize,

Lady, and undying Fame.

Written by barryr22

September 28, 2011 at 10:06 pm

Vivianne’s Lament

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Aubrey Beardsley [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

My King,

Ages have passed

Since you called me

Last from the cold

Depths of my dreaming

*

You speak and the

Country trembles.

Might giants whisper

Your name as a

Nightmare to their

Progeny and I hear.

*

The icy chill of

Air against my

Dark, dank, water-

Logged flesh. My hair

Once the color of the sun, drowned and

Matted, a dirt caked white.

*

But I hear you and pull

Myself from my aquatic

Slumber. Why can’t I find you,

My ageless King? Has your slumber

On that eternal isle been broken to

Save us? Or are you decayed and broken

Yourself?

*

I race to look, but the pebbles

Dig into my bare feet

Causing me to spill

Some of that sacred, crimson

Liquor, and  I can’t find you.

But your voice echoes like wind through

Branches, trees, nature itself.

*

Still, one is willing to bleed for the

Beauty of your tone, if only

I can find you. The trees raise their

Limbs to evangelize to

This heathen goddess, but I heed not

Their actions.

*

I still feel you and long to

Find you. To feel the calibur of

Your kingly character is my sun.

I turn to its radiance but never feel the

Warmth on my face. Bring me back to

Existence, back to being needed.

*

My jaundiced and paper-skinned hands

Cling tightly to the Burnished iron, rusting,

But the magic is still there and belongs to

You. It rings with your call but cannot find

Your worthy form.

*

Please, come back to me.

If you desire, I’ll be your

Lady, always. No matter what

Lance or Lot may attempt to

Spear me.

Written by barryr22

September 27, 2011 at 7:29 pm