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[TD1]

The floor was thick with autumn’s tears
That covered all the ground
But she was there, and I was young
So I went all unheeding of the sound;
All I remember is a vase, pink as summer
Glowing in the windowsill, and a smile
That shone though age had creased
All that surrounded it.
She was my mother’s mother, and I
Loved her so very much.
We worked together in the yard
To sweep away each bitter shard
Autumn had left to taunt us with.
We talked of many things, I’m sure
That older people must endure
When talking to a child,
But though the day grew dimmer
Her patience did not, and at the last
We’d filled the barrow.
Glowing with happiness, I left her place
And pink, pink vase
A smile across my face.
Because I’d helped her, and she had so very,
Very obviously loved me.

[Tomasque]

 This is just one of the reasons why I love jesters:

Spoiler: Fool's Prayer (click to show/hide)

 By Edward Rowland Sill

THE ROYAL feast was done; the King   
  Sought some new sport to banish care,   
And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,   
  Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"   
 
The jester doffed his cap and bells,   
  And stood the mocking court before;   
They could not see the bitter smile   
  Behind the painted grin he wore.   
 
He bowed his head, and bent his knee   
  Upon the monarch's silken stool;    
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,   
  Be merciful to me, a fool!   
 
"No pity, Lord, could change the heart   
  From red with wrong to white as wool;   
The rod must heal the sin: but, Lord,    
  Be merciful to me, a fool!   
 
"'T is not by guilt the onward sweep   
  Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;   
'T is by our follies that so long   
  We hold the earth from heaven away.    
 
"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,   
  Go crushing blossoms without end;   
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust   
  Among the heart-strings of a friend.   
 
"The ill-timed truth we might have kept—    
  Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?   
The word we had not sense to say—   
  Who knows how grandly it had rung?   
 
"Our faults no tenderness should ask,   
  The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;    
But for our blunders—oh, in shame   
  Before the eyes of heaven we fall.   
 
"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;   
  Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool   
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
  Be merciful to me, a fool!"   
 
The room was hushed; in silence rose   
  The King, and sought his gardens cool,   
And walked apart, and murmured low,   
  "Be merciful to me, a fool!"

[TD1]

Never heard of the poet, but given his writing I think I'll be looking up his work.

[Dozebôm Lolumzalìs]

I like that! Can't quite tell what it means, but a pinch of mystery makes any poem better.

[Edmus]

I wrote a sonnet!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Interring Broken Machinery

We’re elbows deep in wire
           torn from the die cast belly
                  of a “rescued” roadside IBM-XP;
           we match our evil eyes over equal evil grins--Prognosis: Dire.

For its power L.E.D blinks a dodgy pulse,
          Its fans flare a failing breath
           that wheeze—an animal near to death.
          And then we’re solemn, (grinning,) pulling the plug.

We nab the usefuls, trash the rust
           strip the D-Drive down to motors
                   that powered whir as wicked rotors
           which with blu-tac sets us cackling well far through to dusk.

Then we cram its copper carrion a tangle in its case
         to shunt it into out of sight’n quick forgotten place.

[TheBiggerFish]

This is just one of the reasons why I love jesters:

Spoiler: Fool's Prayer (click to show/hide)

 By Edward Rowland Sill

THE ROYAL feast was done; the King   
  Sought some new sport to banish care,   
And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,   
  Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"   
 
The jester doffed his cap and bells,   
  And stood the mocking court before;   
They could not see the bitter smile   
  Behind the painted grin he wore.   
 
He bowed his head, and bent his knee   
  Upon the monarch's silken stool;    
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,   
  Be merciful to me, a fool!   
 
"No pity, Lord, could change the heart   
  From red with wrong to white as wool;   
The rod must heal the sin: but, Lord,    
  Be merciful to me, a fool!   
 
"'T is not by guilt the onward sweep   
  Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;   
'T is by our follies that so long   
  We hold the earth from heaven away.    
 
"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,   
  Go crushing blossoms without end;   
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust   
  Among the heart-strings of a friend.   
 
"The ill-timed truth we might have kept—    
  Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?   
The word we had not sense to say—   
  Who knows how grandly it had rung?   
 
"Our faults no tenderness should ask,   
  The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;    
But for our blunders—oh, in shame   
  Before the eyes of heaven we fall.   
 
"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;   
  Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool   
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
  Be merciful to me, a fool!"   
 
The room was hushed; in silence rose   
  The King, and sought his gardens cool,   
And walked apart, and murmured low,   
  "Be merciful to me, a fool!"

...That's...Wow.

Just, wow.

It hits hard.

[TD1]

I wrote a sonnet!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Interring Broken Machinery

We’re elbows deep in wire
           torn from the die cast belly
                  of a “rescued” roadside IBM-XP;
           we match our evil eyes over equal evil grins--Prognosis: Dire.

For its power L.E.D blinks a dodgy pulse,
          Its fans flare a failing breath
           that wheeze—an animal near to death.
          And then we’re solemn, (grinning,) pulling the plug.

We nab the usefuls, trash the rust
           strip the D-Drive down to motors
                   that powered whir as wicked rotors
           which with blu-tac sets us cackling well far through to dusk.

Then we cram its copper carrion a tangle in its case
         to shunt it into out of sight’n quick forgotten place.

A late response, but I'm afraid I only just read it. I really like this! Definitely not a Shakespeare "Let me not to the marriage of true minds" style one!

[Tomasque]

 During my search for various poetry I came across this wonderful poem. TBF, if you liked the Fool's Prayer, I think you'll like this:

Spoiler: The Man In The Glass (click to show/hide)

by Peter Dale Wimbrow Sr.

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.

For it isn’t your father, or mother, or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.

He’s the fellow to please – never mind all the rest
For he’s with you, clear to the end
And you’ve passed your most difficult, dangerous test
If the man in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.

[Solifuge]

I really liked that one. Thanks for sharing.

[Edmus]

I wrote a sonnet!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Interring Broken Machinery

We’re elbows deep in wire
           torn from the die cast belly
                  of a “rescued” roadside IBM-XP;
           we match our evil eyes over equal evil grins--Prognosis: Dire.

For its power L.E.D blinks a dodgy pulse,
          Its fans flare a failing breath
           that wheeze—an animal near to death.
          And then we’re solemn, (grinning,) pulling the plug.

We nab the usefuls, trash the rust
           strip the D-Drive down to motors
                   that powered whir as wicked rotors
           which with blu-tac sets us cackling well far through to dusk.

Then we cram its copper carrion a tangle in its case
         to shunt it into out of sight’n quick forgotten place.

A late response, but I'm afraid I only just read it. I really like this! Definitely not a Shakespeare "Let me not to the marriage of true minds" style one!

Thanks! 

[Tomasque]

 All you poetry funsters and fanatics, if you're a fan of forum games  & Interactive Fiction, I think you'll find this fascinating!

[Tomasque]

By me

In the manor, events takes place:
First an auction, and then a race!

His sharpened knife,
their starting gun.
He takes a life
and it's begun...

---

To sneak in was an easy task
A murderer mounts many masks,
and his disguise proved their downfall,
like a Red Masque at man's last ball.

    And like revelers at the feast,
    the guests joined rank with the deceased.

---

...He's finished with his vicious fun,
and now his vicious deed is done.
A judge at the old manor run:
A marathon nobody won.

[TD1]

Someone's getting in the Halloween mood....

[Tomasque]

 This is me year-round. You bet I am! 

[Edmus]

Plastic Bag

   “Do you ever feel
   Like a plastic bag
   Drifting through the wind
   Wanting to start again”
               -Katy Perry

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
   floating jellyfish in icy brine
      millennia of wretched persistence ahead
and a loooooooong line of turtles you're to make dead.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

srsly :|