A
Anglkate
Guest
Original poster
((a poem I wrote in the Acrostic style. If you are unfamiliar with this style it is A poem in which the initial letters of each line can be read down the page to spell either an alphabet, a name, or some other concealed message. So here it is! The message is quite simple i think :P))
Quietly watching the blazing horizon,
Unthinkable thoughts come to my mind
Of atrocities best never spoken of, and dreams
That paint a dark landscape of demise.
Even snug as I sit, a chill tingles down my spine.
The lugubrious reality of isolation rips into my psyche,
Harboring deep feelings of confusion and regret.
Endow me, Oh Lord, with the strength to move on!
Rapturous passion, lustful desires, and errant pleasure,
All vices my body aches so badly to relive. Oh,
Vengeful spite of Fate's all-knowing hand,
Enslaving that which I loved to Death's restricting chains!
Never again am I to feel the warmth of Love's sweet embrace.
Now the time has come to make my final choice;
Entangle myself in destiny's web and dangle by a string.
Virgil the poet says:
"Each of us bears his own Hell." How true his words speak.
Reality can no longer strangle me with its iron paws,
My choice is made, it is finished, and I am done.
Only by God's grace could I be saved, and yet I was shunned!
Remorseful in life and death my body sways, and
Evening fades away and a raven cries out, "Nevermore!"
Quietly watching the blazing horizon,
Unthinkable thoughts come to my mind
Of atrocities best never spoken of, and dreams
That paint a dark landscape of demise.
Even snug as I sit, a chill tingles down my spine.
The lugubrious reality of isolation rips into my psyche,
Harboring deep feelings of confusion and regret.
Endow me, Oh Lord, with the strength to move on!
Rapturous passion, lustful desires, and errant pleasure,
All vices my body aches so badly to relive. Oh,
Vengeful spite of Fate's all-knowing hand,
Enslaving that which I loved to Death's restricting chains!
Never again am I to feel the warmth of Love's sweet embrace.
Now the time has come to make my final choice;
Entangle myself in destiny's web and dangle by a string.
Virgil the poet says:
"Each of us bears his own Hell." How true his words speak.
Reality can no longer strangle me with its iron paws,
My choice is made, it is finished, and I am done.
Only by God's grace could I be saved, and yet I was shunned!
Remorseful in life and death my body sways, and
Evening fades away and a raven cries out, "Nevermore!"