@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.