The Airship
by Alphaville Herald on 15/11/07 at 3:57 pm
by Kris Dibou, warrior poet/pirate
I was lying on my back, looking at the stars
When an airship passed between myself and Mars
Gracefully it drifted in the moonlit night
All it’s sails full, it’s balloon was glowing bright
The wooden ship that hung from the large balloon
Had lanterns all alit, and I could hear a tune
Played on violin drifting through the air
I lifted my spyglass and saw the captain standing there
Playing to the stars, they twinkled in return
As he stood up in the bow, the cabin in the stern
And he played with so much passion! Such feeling in each stroke
Of the bow upon his strings as he sailed in his boat
But too soon he had sailed far into the night
And he was just another star flickering out of sight
The wind had not forgotten though, the music that he made
And carried back to where I sat, the melody he played.
copyright (c) 2007 – Kris Dibou – used by the gracious permission of the author.
Rou
Nov 15th, 2007
I’ll let the free-form metering go, but a poet who cannot use “its” and “it’s” properly is unforgivable.
Whenever you find yourself writing “it’s”, stop immediately. Ask yourself if “it is” can be substituted in its place. If not, take out that apostrophe.
Oh, and I would tell the Herald to not sig the bottom of your poem with “used by the gracious permission of the author”. Makes you look pretentious.
Angel
Nov 15th, 2007
Ladies, I thinke you maruell that
I writ no mery report to you
And what is the cause I court it not
So merye as I was wont to dooe;
Alas! I let you vnderstand,
It is no newes for me to show;
The fairest flower of my garland
Was caught from court a great while agoe.
For, vnder the roufe of sweete Saint Paull,
There lyeth my Ladie buryed in claye,
Where I make memory for her soule
With weepinge eyes once euerye daye;
All other sightes I haue forgot,
That euer in court I ioyed to see,
And that is the cause I court it not,
So mery as I was wont to be.
And though that shee be dead and gone,
Whose courting need not be to tolde,
And natures moulde of fleshe and bone,
Whose lyke now liues not to beholde,
Me thinkes I see her walke in blacke,
In euery corner where I goe,
To looke if anie bodie do lacke
A friend to helpe them of theyr woe.
Mee thinkes I see her sorrowfull teares,
To princelye state approaching nye;
Mee thinkes I see her tremblinge feares,
Leste anie her suites shulde hit awrie;
Mee thinkes she shuld be still in place,
A pitifull speaker to a Queene,
Bewailinge every poore mans case,
As many a time shee hath ben seene.
Me thinkes I see her modeste mood,
Her comlie clothing plainlie clad,
Her face so sweete, her cheere so good,
The courtlie countenance that shee had;
But, chefe of all, mee thinkes I see,
Her vertues deutie daie by daie,
Homblie kneeling one her knee,
As her desire was still to praie.
Mee thinkes I cold from morow to night
Do no thing ells with verie good will,
But spend the time to speake and writte
The praise of my good ladies still;
Though reason saith, now she is dead,
Go seeke and sarue as good as she;
It will not sinke so in my head,
That euer the like in courte will bee.
But sure I am, ther liueth yet
In court a dearer frinde to mee,
Whome I to saure am so vnfit,
I am sure the like will neuer bee;
For I with all that I can dooe,
Vnworthie most maie seeme to bee,
To undoo the lachet of her shooe,
Yet will I come to courte and see.
Then haue amongste ye once againe,
Faint harts faire ladies neuer win;
I trust ye will consider my payne,
When any good venison cometh in;
And, gentill ladies, I you praie,
If my abstentinge breede to blame,
In my behalfe that ye will saie,
In court is remedie for the same.
Finis, Qd W. Elderton
Imprinted at London in Fletestreat
Beneath the COnduit, at the signe
of S. John Euangelift, by
Thomas Colwell.
Anonymous
Nov 16th, 2007
Warrior poet? How dare you rape Vivec!!
Anonymous
Nov 16th, 2007
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