writing Two poems

[Veronica The Miffvixen 232]

Because why not?

 

The first is The Honour of The Duel:

 

I stood erect, mirrored to a demon of nacre ruin of the flesh, spines lined by the rod, contacting in full
We stand in the ebon mire, of a Void in the Abyss, lost in the haze of Naufragare
I turneth not my head, and spake forth unto the shadow beyond these words
"I disgrace not my eye nor ear, I see nor speak violence. Turn death to the rose, and glass to a torch.".
He spake to me, "Yet thou hast bath'd in a broken world. Roses hold thorns, and torches can burn.".

I turned, and so had he, and to each step, we addressed a second, though I knew not his measure.
Voice and lips unbound by the honour of duel, I spake to him, "Mine hands are open. Speak thy name.".
He spake unto my direction, froward in the cast of his vile tongue, the exposition of the confrontation
"I am Anathema. I am he who stands by the river, and retches in malice to thy kin, so thou art to perish by the current.".
"I whisper in the wind, and I murder in the dark. Behind the lips of my cold asylum of stone lies a needle of lead.".
"I cast lots as I dance to the Liar's Gavotte, I sing a merry tune at the gallows of my victims. With my twine, I choke thee.".
"Present thy case, bitter wyrm, for I am not clandestine as a foe, and I shall not reveal gyrons.".

Held firm to thought and logic did I, by which mine Anima is bound to the mortal plane, shaded from the dust and the raze of the wind.
As unto him I prepared the retort, "To my name bears no merit, I am simple and finite. Cast in the shadow of God's Kingdom, I am small.".
"Hold to voice of peace, do I, hold tightly do I with my claws to the white curtain, whose lofty dressing lies in the Æther, beyond any mortal spire.".
"To the breath of the Lord I hold, that I walk without being struck dumb, and so I may see the light of the stars above Terra.".
"E'er doth mine augur drive beyond the ward of Hell, for by blood, I am bound to the Man. But by the blood of an innocent, I am bound to God.".

Anathema chortled, casting out his miasmic foam from his unloving gape, and he bent his limbs and perched on his fours, saying forth
"Foolish and frail, be thine heart and skin. Act not like thou art of a perfect shadow, thee, who is as a wicked and iniquitous beast! Feral animal of the fields!".
"Thou speakst of love when thou doth imbibe from the river. Stand upon in its bank, doth thee, after thy gullet is sate. Thou art as wicked as me, thy soul as black.".
"Manipulated creature, Mephistophilean manuscript of parroted lies and confusion, a damsel gaily traipsing in a garden of blackthorn! All vice be as another!".
"Do not dare to speak from high towers, claim no throne of marble. Thou art but flotsam, esssse in the zephyrs of the West, thy blood is as venemous as mine.".

I refrained from the coarse winds of my throat, I bore forth no hoarfrost upon the flesh, but merely stated as just the truth
"I hath not an ounce of thine way. The wind has torn me and the world has razed me wholly, but ne'er do I start the spark of corruption in the beating heart I hold.".
Anathema stated, "Yet thou dost hold a tome, chronicled in the wind of strife; Thine art was once mine, exercised viciously upon thy flesh.".
I retorted, "Yet even the Nephilim are not their father. The beasts of hell shall slough through fire, but ne'er shalt they drench my legs.".
"And hear, driven in earthern hell to a binding fugue, I am shattered, but the cruel irony for thee is that I remain steadfast by the hold of the ferrum joug aboust.".

Anathema bellowed, "Scream of a phantom life of piety and miserecordia, but let not be begat into an aeroran blade upon my temple thy sick words of denial.".
He crawl'd upon his waltzing limbs, bound in chains of poisonous and vile metals uponst his ankles, approaching me as a flailing and foaming wolf of blood, saying
"Cruel and insane monstrosity, ghastly beast of lunacy! Thy flesh is held close to the crux of my pestilent chain. Thou doth feel venom in thy veins, hold it dear!".
Anathema rattled the chain of his left wrist beside my face, and pulled acrost mine bottom lip with his razor finger of emaciated and wizened bone, saying
"How can thee speak of God, pariah? How can thee spew vile muds to the heavens in good faith? Thou dost feel the ruination and damnation of the flesh, unfought!".

Anathema whispered coldly to my ear, his breath the vein of tundra, his tongue crost upon me in the voice of taiga, and so he spake still further
"Thy face is thrus't in the river, animal! Come to terms with thine hatred, thine malice, thine rot of bark and onyx flesh, for thou are a wisp in the wind!".
"Thine bones shriek in terror in lacriment robes uponst their form. Icy necrotic form take thee in thine solemn passacaille upon the Shore of Lethe.".
I spoke, "Uponst the talon, borne not is flesh. Uponst the tail, borne not is flesh. But borne of us is that we grasp: The gate of Elysium or the loam of Acheron.".
"If a single bone shatters upon the world, let it be but flesh and faith that were too ill, for one cannot blame the guardians of the world.".

Anathema ground my face upon the caked ashen earth below, and dug his fangs into my scalp, as he bled mine breast with his horrid claws, and said forth
"Weakling, thou art a roaring siren, as the funereal bells howl in fury for thy blood. The vile pestilence spreads in sanguine glory, and thou doth not raise a hand.".
"I hold my death to thine throat, what merit doth thine hand hold? Thy life shall be forfeit, as thy ebon vine that coils't about thee is the chain of the Dragon!".
I responded, "And yet, thou dost not see. The flesh is not bound to the hatred of a violence upon oneself. I reject thy vile poison, thy manipulation is in vain!".
And lo, the duel with those words bore witness its end, and I passed from Anathema's sight, beyond the reaches of the corruption of Maelbolgae.

 

 

The second is unnamed:

 

 

To God, I write this holy poem, in just honour and righteous faith.
O, undying Judge, King of Kings, Lord God!
Tell me, what do I have to offer thee but my heart and my eternal love?
For, who am I? I am not but dust to be returned to the zephyrs of the north.
Shall not the grave overtake me too, as all birthed of womb before and after myself until the rapture?
I lie as a beast, spitefully thrown into mud, cold and shivering.
As I lie in chains, my tears burn.

Yet, you wipe them away, and tell me something that no one else will: I am loved.
But how much do I speak of the mundane and the weak, the wreck that is my meaningless circumstance.
It is not a poem I write in the gravity about my broken will I must speak on, this is not a poem to glorify myself, but rather, you.
Speak will my tongue, as all nations will, of every tribe and facet of the face of man, upon the tremendous light you radiate.
Speak will I, of your unfailing love and infinite splendor, the magnanimous way of your wonderful self and the exaltation of your mercy will resound from my lips!
The Earth is but your footstool, Terra bends her knee to your will. From the moment of Genesis, you have been the Powerful Judge of Heaven.
We, the people, owe our all, we have only our hearts to give, in great thunderous praise that befits none but you, for we can build ourselves no fitting crown.
The power you hold is beyond comprehension, the beauty you hold is beyond diamond and gold. The wealth of the earth, it is nothing compared to your majesty!
Unspeakable is the way of your throne and kingdom, no lip can birth words to describe it. No praise can be given, no hymn sung, no symphony made, to describe you.
For endless eras one could write upon your glory, that a thousand libraries of a thousand wings of a thousand bookcases of a thousand shelves of a thousand
tomes of a thousand chapters of a thousand pages of a thousand words could be written upon the subject of your glory, and this still can never suffice.
We cannot describe what is infinite, and that is the very nature of your glory.
To your infinite glory, I give my soul and heart, in exaltation, and cry out to the vast sky: "Holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, blessed Preceptor of the Heavens!".
You are God, we are your servants immortal. Praise be to Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit!

Creation, Creation, sing! Your master calleth you to sing! Serenade and bring a great melodious voice from thy lips!
Thunder, thunder! Join, my brothers, in our great chorus!
All Creation, run to the Temple, fall onto thy knees and shout in praise! The immortal Lord is here before us, let us all worship his holy glory!
Holy, holy, are you, O Great Father above, let us sing this humble ode, eternally blissful in your light! Let there be light to reign forever, the darkness has no foothold!
Voice like thunder, touch like wind, a pure heart beyond all waters, you are verily incredible to behold! Holy, holy, are you, O Loving Son above, let us sing forever of your wonderful love and mercy, which we men did not deserve! Love and peace will rain forever, for you were cruelly slain for us!
Taken in the Ninth by Sheol, to balance our cruel and unjust ways! Sent to spiral froward to Heaven, rising from the ash to buy thy children back from shadows!
Holy, Holy, are you, O Holy Ghost! Your light and power reign forever, in everlasting glory!
Praise God! And all creation shouts from Genesis to Rapture, Amen!