Ah, so we're posting our first poems. Here's my very first, from when I was about 13. I read Browning's Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came at the end of King's Dark Tower series and decided I wanted to do that. The result is too long, so I shall only subject you to the first 12 lines for now. Of course, I had no understanding of metre, and barely any understanding of general writing skills.
Rose Red
1
My first thought was upon the dreadful melancholy
That seemed to shroud the glassy glade of grass;
That even as I reached, with the burning arm of sight, into its heart, revealed its emerald farce;
And told me with its booming voice of dark, that to believe its beauty would be the oldest of all folly.
2
So I ran here and there away from that brittle golden black house—
I knew it was just a hollow waste land,
In a tortured disguise, of ropey bloody sand—
And took a hose to the fear-waters to douse.
3
And trying to forget the sunken shadow plains of night
I took my mind back a hundred thousand leagues, to a happy seed:
Where friend's were close and tales were taken heed.
But an evil presence lurked even then, and memories are a terrible blight.
|