Original Submissions by Reiloth of type 'Songs'
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Final Memories of Him
Added on Sep 28, 2006A song written by Jochebed Abishai of Elkinhym in light of his father's passing.
My first memories of him were by the age of five,
When he mussed with my hair, and told me voice snide,
"Son, you must remember when the day is done,
to clean your feet in the shadow of the sun.";
And to this day, upon arriving home,
I look to my shoes, and for a man who will never come.
My second memories of him were by the age of seventeen,
When he clapped my shoulder, slapping my bearded chin unclean,
"Son, you must remember to compliment your mate,
Or else you will find yourself in a deprived state.";
And to this day, when I see my mate's eyes,
I revel in their color aloud, knowing he has died.
My third memories of him were by the age of twenty-two,
when he mused of my sister, and of my new wound.
"Son, remember that 'great things' should be considered lightly,
and the littlest of things with such detail, not slightly."
And to this day, when a man pries to the state of my face,
I smile as I do, and leave him in haste.
My fourth memories of him were by the age of twenty-five,
when I held his hand, and watched the last living breath die,
"Son, for me this you must do; never give up, or pretend to be a fool;
Always to yourself be true, and only willingly play the tool."
And with his dying breath I sighed, my eyes turning to shaded places
inside;
and when my feet loudly scuff more than I intend,
His dying words, my thoughts often recommend.
My final memories of him were by the age of right now,
In song he is remembered, like the sky or dust-clouds,
"Father, you must remember that I miss you so,
and that your words, succinctly, to my children will go."
And to this day, a thought of him brings tears to my eyes,
knowing his life was snuffed, like a torch to the wind's sighs.
My first memories of him were by the age of five,
When he mussed with my hair, and told me voice snide,
"Son, you must remember when the day is done,
to clean your feet in the shadow of the sun.";
And to this day, upon arriving home,
I look to my shoes, and for a man who will never come.
My second...
Continue Reading...The Latest of Nights
Added on Sep 18, 2006An eerie patriotic song of the North, written by Jochebed Abishai of Elkinhym.
When a limp wind runs through my feet,
through the toes and where the fingers meet,
through the very core of my being,
I know that something passes nearby, unseen.
A shadow of doubt lingers in my mind,
When I see a man with eyes unkind,
A glance in the crowd, proving unwanted company,
though I know I am safe from the things I can't see.
They walk along my face in the sun,
They whisper in my shadow of the trophies they've won,
They prowl in my alleys, thinking to win the good fight,
But my eyes remain open, on the latest of nights.
They drink in my bars, praising my King,
They piss in my gutters, and laugh at the scene.
They make love in my beds, and my Children awake,
They kill those who would just take, and take, and take.
So wary the traveller who trods with soft step from the South,
And likens himself to a quirri in the hunt,
For eyes spill from my cracks in the street underneath,
and ears will listen for words far too blunt.
When a limp wind runs through my feet,
through the toes and where the fingers meet,
through the very core of my being,
I know that something passes nearby, unseen.
A shadow of doubt lingers in my mind,
When I see a man with eyes unkind,
A glance in the crowd, proving unwanted company,
though I know I...
Continue Reading...
