My Feeble Attempt to Imitate Old English Poetry
As I was inspired by my friend @mineopoly on his daily dose of poetry I started to think maybe I should try writing one and then I saw the 100 Day Challenge of writing poetry by @d-pend, but then again I'm not yet at that level like those two, especially d-pend. I can hardly even make one. Haha
Anyways, I love reading both their pieces and they inspired me and showed me the beauty of poetry so I'm going to attempt to write one. If you're into poetry, i highly recommend you check these two.
The poem, in my mind, is set just a few years after the renaissance, where social unrest is the norm and death by guillotine is a fashionable way of killing people. The speaker of this poem is probably an enigma of this era, and led a rebellion of some sort. Now the situation is sort of hazy, even in my mind, but the idea is that he is being sentenced to death, because he's implicated by his own colleagues who became traitors, just so they can save their sorry ass. And so he blackmails them, in the most graceful, poem-inducing manner. And here is how he moves his traitor friends:
The Blackmail
To writ:
I, accursed, I, damned,
Do attest, truths hereafter, to the grave:
For as long as I
Know handsome truth I
Will not speak, rot, and decay
Silently. Alas, the enemy you
Sentence to death,
He is to die
Forging your own doom.
Ah, the ingenious-
He will reek your own pungency!
The very one you tried, one befell.
With Lucifer, the hell of hells
Shall spare you your own tenancy.
Slay me now! Soulless fools!
You do not know the simple misery,
A paradox of sorts that will fail to amuse -
The cup I imbibe,
The yoke I receive,
The sword to impale
(My innocence, your insolence both)
Mine and yours the same!
Ah, sweet tragedy.
This night will find
All of us rendered lifeless,
Heads spewed along the tarnished guillotine.
Ill-timed as my own dying is,
I shall find rest,
For your untimely demise
Too shall surely come, and is so lucky.
The dawn breaks. Make haste, time is of the essence.
Line up now before the pedestal of your twisted fate.
For I know handsome truth, and I am given privilege
To choose death only when you unwillingly choose your own.
Moving poem @iamkuyaj. I'm having a hard time to write a poem everyday. I'm glad you wrote this. It is a very important topic as heads are rolling all over the place.
There is a point we die to ourselves. This is not suicide but it is the death of our selfish nature. It is a paradox that when we die we begin to live.
Thank you @mineopoly. I am happy you like it. :D
Indeed, I'm glad you catch what i want to portray in this poem. :)
Hi, @iamkuyaj. This is @veckinon, a moderator from the SteemChat discord channel. We ask that if you use @broadcast to upvote your post, please be sure to properly cite the sources for any photos you use. If you have questions about how to properly cite photos, contact me on discord.
Thanks for joining SteemChat. If you enjoy our community and its benefits please be sure to give @yehey your support for witness. Thanks, we look forward to seeing more of your work!
Congratulations! This post has been upvoted from the communal account, @minnowsupport, by iamkuyaj from the Minnow Support Project. It's a witness project run by aggroed, ausbitbank, teamsteem, theprophet0, someguy123, neoxian, followbtcnews, and netuoso. The goal is to help Steemit grow by supporting Minnows. Please find us at the Peace, Abundance, and Liberty Network (PALnet) Discord Channel. It's a completely public and open space to all members of the Steemit community who voluntarily choose to be there.
If you would like to delegate to the Minnow Support Project you can do so by clicking on the following links: 50SP, 100SP, 250SP, 500SP, 1000SP, 5000SP.
Be sure to leave at least 50SP undelegated on your account.
For someone who doesn't write much poetry, this one was top class. It had an old world feel the whole way through, and told quite a story.