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  • ckfilvan 5d

    THE FUNERAL OF THE SUN

    There's been a talk about this bride,
    Loveliest and gentlest of all the lights,
    She's been to the lost and hopeless
    A light in the sea of darkness.

    She walks the streets of starry skies
    With a gown divine and white as snow;
    The stars dreams and the blackhole vies
    For this lovely face with mystic glow.

    Yet with all her heart, and mind and soul,
    She loves the one who loves her first,
    For he alone fills her scars and holes,
    Feeds her manna and slakes her thirst.

    A council is held in the dark castle,
    A plan is planned to sink this vessel;
    Morning Star with his ever lying lips
    Smirked as he's sinked many ships.

    He himself attends to seduce her
    And compliments on her divinity,
    Says the Sun's demand is too severe
    And she waste in darkness all her beauty.

    Her eyes opens, breaks in a fit of temper
    To think she's been blinded by the sun;
    If not for the handsome Morning Star,
    She'd lose her beauty and miss all the fun.

    So she gives herself in to the charming star,
    And is passed on by among all the stars.
    She boasts in her beauty till they strikes down
    Her lover and she joins the funeral of the Sun.

    Guinevere's her name, scoff the stars
    And a shadow she shall always be,
    A vain prostitute who's nothing but scars,
    Back to her vomit where she should be.

    She weeps in the darkest of night
    Thinking of her brave yet gentle lover;
    She knows now He is the father of lights,
    A laugh in the sea of sadness ever.

    Unceasing, she weeps brokenhearted
    Once eyesome, now a soiled rag discarded ;
    Yet in the dark learns the why and how
    Her life is a barren field frozen with snow.

    It is in the dark one finds lamps in the sky
    And night borrows the light from the day
    So thus in the dark she finds the light of grace -
    The Sun, risen, has never gives her up for a day.

    He picks her up, holds her against his chest,
    And she kisses his feet, and her sorrows rest;
    And her tears flow as if they would forever,
    And she loves more, for she was forgiven much.

    Then the Sun kissed his bride back home,
    To be a beacon of light in the realm of the dark
    And to look ever on the face of her love, the Sun,
    In the sea of night when she'd need him most.

    And the moon is lovely not because of the night,
    But the night is lovely because of the moon;
    The darker the night, the brighter the moonlight,
    For the grace of the sun is perfect in the dark.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 2w

    0161408 #folkmyth #myth 0211811 #start #ceesreposts

    To whom it may concern:

    Lovers of excellence rather than favoritism. Terrific poets
    @lazybongness @soulfulstirrings @kin_jo @heartsease @siddharthajana @love_whispererr @unspokenpen1927

    @heartsease an strikingly amazing writer. A gem, I'd say
    @murryben who showers her love for a struggling poet. I miss you

    More often than not miraquill is blind to some work, writersnetwork deaf to your calls. It matters not to me as long as you poets have a word on mine.

    I am grateful that out of four or five poems which miraquill has read so far, I won two #pod. And that's really great.
    Yeah as a young child learning to write, I feel down when my teacher pays no heed.

    And it acts as a balm when you stop by to read my little poems.
    Hoping you would love this myth.
    Sending my love to you.
    Let's me conclude with this song.



    There's talk on the street it's there to remind you
    Doesn't really matter which side you're on
    You're walking away and they're talking behind you
    They will never forget you 'til somebody new comes along
    NEW KID IN TOWN, THE EAGLES

    ***************************


    GLOSSARY/ FYI
    Dumsari - The realm of the Seven Mountains
    Leichinian - Inhabitants of the Dumsari Hills
    Longvar - the protagonist, a man
    Dilia - a nymph, and the love of Longvar


    LONGVAR AND DILIA

    ‘How can I doff off your peerless beauty,
    Your careless laughter of a nightingale,
    Your step in the fashion of spring-time,
    And your curls of midnight black?’
    Alas! Longvar’s betrothed was gone,
    Banished from the land of Dumsari
    For the Leichinian deemed the nymph
    Not a creation of the same hand.

    ‘My dear, Dilia,’ wailed young Longvar,
    ‘What’s become of the vow we made?
    Oh, would that my heart were a stone!
    I been waiting for the love I have for you
    To fall off and desert my grieving heart,
    And sure like every season autumn comes
    With all its fall, but fails to shake off
    For once your image crafted in my heart.’

    Wildings bowed in commiseration,
    Wild bees arranged their lullabies,
    And curled up in her boudoir she lay
    Drowning in the sea of her sorrows;
    No, nothing could offer consolation
    For separation of two souls in love
    Is too great a scene to paint in words –
    What’s a river divorced from its water.

    ‘My love,’ cried Dilia, ‘I send my bluebird,
    It will convey you my state of despair.
    My bones are cold like a chilly winter
    My heart hollow like a dead flute
    Though upon bed of scented flowers I lie,
    Though wrap in a blanket made of fireflies.
    You alone are the flame to warm my soul
    The melody to fill my hollow space.

    Though a Leichinian I am not, the love
    For you I have is true to last a lifetime;
    Though sevenfold death may part us
    To you only shall I bind my soul.
    Sure as the rain reaches the sand
    And rivers reach the sea, I will look
    For a dwelling made of your bones,
    And therein lay my panting heart to rest.

    Longvar upon knowing wept like a child
    ‘How can my love, my life be banished?
    How can I call such place a heaven
    Which has no room for my dearest one?
    No joy and bliss do I foresee in heaven
    If living in heaven is without you.”
    And so my folks sing Longvar denied
    Respite until he brought his lover home.
    ©ckfilvan

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    VENTURE

    We are in the ocean of love,
    Why have I to dread of drowning
    When one who is as gentle as a dove
    Through many storms keeps holding
    On to you when halcyon days
    Are far away e'en from wistful bays.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 2w

    #like #ceesreposts

    I badly fail to make my poems visible to you #miraquill #writersnetwork i wonder how you close your ears to all the calls

    For dear @murryben
    @soulfulstirrings @lazybongness @hoezier

    @the_story_weed wish you were here. A gem who walks away.

    In the fashion of #filvantopz

    @heartsease forget me not like
    falling leaves on a windy day @ckfilvan

    We look before and after,
    And pine for what is not;
    Our sincerest laughter
    With some pain is fraught;
    Our sweetest songs are those that tell
    Of saddest thought.
    Percy Bysshe Shelley

    Read More

    THE DANCE OF THE LEAVES
    Can you describe in a simple way
    The sorrowful dance of some goodbyes,
    Like leaves falling on a windy day -
    No bloodshed yet many a leaf cries.

    The trees bend to grab their flying shawls
    As leaves struggle to reach out their hands;
    Our bodies are but dwelling of souls,
    The flesh is nought but a house of sand.

    The lofty hills and the lowliest plain
    Keep watch o'er every fallen leaf
    Where the naked trees stand with no shame
    No will to bend, not a soul to live.

    Then comes the wind pipes in its hands,
    The fallen rises for their last dance -
    Yellowed or blanched, or crimson like wine;
    Rich in lament, yet their dance divine.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 2w

    PRETENCE
    I admired the pains
    You took in writing
    I love you in the sand
    Just before the rain.

    What's written on the pane,
    The rain washed all the same.
    And I cried in the rain
    What you wrote in the sand.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 2w

    #myth #folkmyth
    0191909

    Read more on #folkmyth
    #childrenz


    A tale of a flying lizard

    Read More

    The ballads of Uleng

    Uleng! Uleng! Do you know my state?
    My parents eat on silver plates;
    Uleng! Uleng! Underneath the eaves
    My hungry hands above plantain leaves.

    He left home when he was still young,
    Weeping he entered the Mystic Jungle;
    None heard the tears and griefs he'd sung,
    Not even Leng--until he was old and rumpled.

    There wailed a plaintive song all the way
    From where, at night, tree tops spangled;
    Then Old Leng put off his work one day
    Recalled his friend lost in the Mystic Jungle.

    Uleng! Uleng! Do you know my state?
    My parents eat on silver plates;
    Uleng! Uleng! Underneath the eaves
    While I eat my meals on plantain leaves.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 2w

    #silence @miraquill #ceesreposts
    0211111
    To you
    @murryben @wind_chime7 @heartsease
    Missing old souls

    #sonnetz failed to come close to #filvantopz

    I am extremely pleased. You have cleared my sour thoughts (i have been harboring lately) @writersnetwork sharing my joy with you

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    SOUND OF YOUR ABSENCE
    The sound of your absence
    Is too loud a silence
    Too heavy a weight to bear
    Too gloomy a shawl to wear.

    Yes my home wanders away
    While my feet root in my room;
    My mind's a garden turned gray,
    My heart a cage full of gloom.

    The sound of your absence
    Is too sad a music to play,
    A melancholic silence,
    A nightly dirge to sink a day.

    Your absence is a river silent,
    The wave of which is a torment.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 3w

    #wanderer #ceesreposts #soulraabta

    //Pastoral poem// 0211011

    Dedicated to @murryben @love_whispererr

    I couldn't write my unnamed yearnings. Yes, I miss things too much.

    Let me try to make you laugh - l miss my flat tummy (long time ago, I had a flat one)

    Hope you love this. Sorry for not responding to your compliments in my last poem.

    Read More

    OVER THE HILLS
    Over the hills and far yonder
    Where the dove kisses the raven
    Oh, my heart is wont to wander
    Where the earth kisses the heaven

    To the place where the brook is glad
    And the deers plays with a tiger;
    Where the earth is a wholesome bread
    The sound of little feet a thunder.

    Where the sad songs have gone to rest
    Rearranged by souls who reside there,
    Where sweet songs shall perfume our nest
    Beyond the reach of gloom and despair.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 3w

    NEGLIGENCE
    The seed that you've thrown last summer
    Has now turned into a young sapling;
    As died your childhood days unnumbered,
    So thus expired your days of babbling.

    It is human to complain of things
    Like being unnoticed when you should be,
    Look at your backyard, see them standing
    Those ignored reeds so content and free.

    You wear those heels and he kisses you
    Says nought but laces to yours his fingers;
    You complain of his uncaring yet fail to
    See how he prays for the sun to linger.

    He picks up the flame that sets on fire
    His patience as a father and a man,
    Why his father often bowed down in pray'r
    He through tears alone learns this lesson.

    Go home, love, and look at your garden,
    Unnoticed thorns that bring forth flowers;
    Go home, son. Leave now and don't bargain
    With sloth for days soon turn into few hours.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 4w

    #myth #wod #gothicromance

    Dedicated to @woodsorrels_ @murryben @miraquill

    I don't know what I'm writing...
    You can try this #folkmyth I think it's better



    A bit busy.
    I'll try to sneak in to read each one of you

    Read More

    Khuangcho’s solace

    If only she could consume those
    Unnumbered snares that were laid
    With the enraged fire of her eyes!
    Do you know this man, they asked.
    Could one forget one’s life, she cried,
    You lay my Hrangchuan dead and cold,
    My tears for him will never grow old.

    You divorce our bodies
    As is night from the day,
    But neither could be cast away
    From heaven that holds them both;
    Only the stronger our souls entwine,
    I cradle him in dust of my skin,
    Warm him with embers of my love.

    When you thrust your dagger
    He will be safe inside my breast,
    Inside a home made of my bones.
    And one night he shall court
    My soul beneath soft moonlight
    And snatches of howling of wolves.

    Lovers like me will kiss and embrace,
    And drink the joy of lovers wine,
    And the stars will roam the night
    Till gentle dews wake the morning calm.
    ©ckfilvan

  • ckfilvan 4w

    #symbol 0172511 #ceesreposts #soulraabta #wod @miraquill
    @murryben @heartsease

    For a friend who loves a girl named Lisa


    Another #sonnetz I guess

    Sending my love to writersnetwork

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    ACROSS A BLUSHING ROSE
    Today I come across a blushing rose,
    It reminds me of your virgin cheeks;
    When I stole from your smile the first kiss
    Your shy lashes forgave my unruly deeds.

    A young tree stripped off its crimson gown
    Stands lovely with not a slight hint of frown;
    Winter comes with torturous gait from miles
    But she curves her delectable lips into smiles.

    In the hungry streets of romance I'll ache
    For you as does an unheeded bookshelf
    For its favorite book, stolen or wandering.

    In the empty courtyard of love I will wait
    Like a tree awaits the summer sun
    To build by its side a tender shade.
    ©ckfilvan