Does anyone (other than me) write poetry? If so, would you be willing to share?
Here's a poem of mine!
The Many Skies of Ireland
To the fisherman in the bay, and to his lovely wife
To the baker in his bed at night, and to his every strife
She looked like heaven above, like the mornings own life
The edge of her body was smooth like the oceans patience
Her eyes were ever changing, never quite making sense
And every morning, in the smallest river, her hair she did rinse
The people of Ireland admired her in so many ways
They sang to her, and wished her so many happy days
And she was seen in every one of the suns rays
She was Evelyn, the greatest beauty ever born
She was the princess of the land, her innocence was to adorn
Forever the people of Ireland, awaiting her awakening at morn
Her prince was away, a far far distance from her loving embrace
And to stop feelings of sadness, Evelyn wore white lace
But eventually, it turned black and covered her face
For Evelyn's prince was thought to have died
She wished, with every breath that death, he would have defied
But in that moment, Ireland's melancholy sky cried
Love called out to the beloved princess of Ireland
And she rode out into the horizon, its hills bland
She rode and rode until she saw nothing but water and sand
At that moment, with the oceans screams echoing
Evelyn had a moment of utter knowing
Her love, her love, her prince was not showing
The princess’s heart broke into a million shards
That had never shown, nor will show on any gypsy’s cards
Each piece flew over many many yards
A fisherman was the one to discover her body, in the sand it had lain
And yet, though nobody had known, Evelyn had not been sane
Her love was gone, her love was broken, and so Ireland's sky did rain
The morning of the princess’s funeral, so tragic, so sad
Her beloved prince rode into her kingdom, quite a journey he had
But with one step into her land, he knew something was bad
The news of Evelyn’s death drove her prince into the ocean
Ever searching, he believes to this day that it was a sin
Him, leaving her for even the briefest moment, but then…
Maybe Ireland’s Evelyn isn’t gone, for she did so ever love the sky
Maybe she is flying above the hills and the villages so high
Maybe she is watching her prince with faith in her eye.
(I wrote this poem a couple of years ago, but still love it! [img]smileys/smilies_04.gif[/img])
Facebook: Kayla Rose Matheney
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