Category: Poem

We are castaways

We are castaways, in these foreign lands. Trap here on the middle of the seas. Ahoy there, will you help us pick up these strands? We know it’s very unfair to ask but please? concept art

“We are castaways, in these foreign lands.
Trap here on the middle of the seas.
Ahoy there, will you help us pick up these strands?
We know it’s very unfair to ask but please?”

“…we are stuck here without no home.
Castaways from all we have.
So, will you mind helping us roam?
We are sorry to ask, but our ship was punch by a calve….”

“—We felt our ship tip it was going down!
Now, we are snare here on this island;
But will you mind helping us find are way to town?
Sorry, to beseech but we are so far from our homeland.”

We are castaways here on this island in the seas.
Would you mind helping us find are way please?

By M.I.D

Ablaze World Furled

A world sense consuming ablaze.
Be it by hate in common ways,
Or worries of unknown perils.
So, we hid within the barrels.

Waiting, scheming, Battling, Fearing.
While, these times can be nonbearing.
They can make heroes out of us.
So, we let conflict be discussed.

We face the old hate, the new fears,
For a unity will appears,
through conflict of the ablaze world.
For the time will come when it is furled.

By MID

Flame of the Soul

The flame of the soul is all-consuming The soul which sings to that ode The soul that grows with the might that is booming.

The flame of the soul is all-consuming
The soul which sings to that ode
The soul that grows with the might that is booming.

Those who stray in search of an abode
They imply that the quest found those of unfeigned
Is the calling of societies who claim to be that of the showed.

They prey on those who look like the blind
While inflaming the lies of the land
Thus, the soul is engulfed in their designs.

The engulfed soul finds wrath and is branded
Fed by lies, it turns on its brothers
Thus, enflaming more souls in an unforgettable reman.

The brilliant bright entity of the soul should not be smother
For there is no other.

By MID

 

Wonderings

Fate is a cruel monster. One we face in cages seeking freedom. Calling out for it like a false songster. child's drawing

Fate is a cruel monster.
One we face in cages seeking freedom.
Calling out for it like a false songster.

Time is a despiteful demon. One we build cages around fearful of its escape. Waiting for its inevitable treason.

Time is a despiteful demon.
One we build cages around fearful of its escape.
Waiting for its inevitable treason.

Iteration 650

Space is a wild ape.
One we lie to fit our cages but knowing that it will not.
Because it is a far greater shape.

Spirit is a plot. A place will we built cages to lock away our souls. Forever looking for that loss trot

Spirit is a plot.
A place will we built cages to lock away our souls.
Forever looking for that loss trot.

By MID

Tale of Last of a Whine.

Lays on the road of dragons and gods, That battle lost forgoes of minds that craft from a man. Here they make their stands and fight the odds, Which was fashion by the great forces’ divines; And things of similar nature to a Xian. storybook illustration

Lays on the road of dragons and gods,

That battle lost forgoes of minds that craft from a man.

Here they make their stands and fight the odds,

Which once was lost to combatants that fought during the span;

That covers all the time and the great plans.

Which was fashion by the great forces’ divines;

And things of similar nature of a Xian.

Here noble and true speaks of the signs:

First among these signs is applauds,

Which call glory into a realm without clan.

Second is that lies which are ban;

Spoken by in the great plans.

Thirds is such things as chines;

Which brings ill fate to the man.

Last, but not least is the twines.

So, know the signs of the lauds.

Go, go tell of how thy began,

Were its war, death, and cyan?

Did you stand the line;

Or were you the one first to ran?

Ugh, no answers that’s fine.

Lays on the roads of a man.

That battle lost forgoes of minds that craft from Divines.

Here they make their stands and fight that of great plans

So, lets here the tale of last of a whine.

By M.I.D

Burled Shame

I look at the world; And see only a burled. A true discrete we have here today. What shame came otherwise is a defray? chalk art

I look at the world;

And see only a burled.

A true discrete we have here today.

What shame came otherwise is a defray?

That offend the rights of all good folks;

But last long enough to offend that of the yolks.

It is with righteous hatred that I proclaim,

Dismayed, and rebellious against the shame.

By M.I.D