The Twelfth of December

[Justin Silverblade]

Merely a thought or two, or three... Hope you enjoy!

 

- Justin

 

 

~~~~

 

The Twelfth of December

 

 

It was a cold morning, on the twelfth of December,

When I sipped from a strong earl grey.

It was a brightened day, this morning after,

The world lay asleep from troubles,

In silent echo of erred innocence.

I hugged close my cup, in humble compliance,

Acceptance.

It was a frosty morning, on the twelfth,

When the tears of mourning lay as snow.

It was a noble pose, this devastation,

Hiding pain of death beneath,

Deep beneath the quiet companion of ice.

It was fear that brought me warmth,

That fleeting warmth of toil and tea.

It was fear that drove me to snow the sea.

 

Two days ago, in truth, I fell,

Lamentably.

In such a day, as a bleeding rose, I lived.

If ever a time, I thought suffering worthy,

It was then. Oh bliss of innocence –

Of pride and righteousness

Of glory and idealist grace.

That was my course, and with it suffering.

Beyond beauty was this destined duty,

To live, to know the world held some inner strength,

That man could live a life worthy of celebration,

And worthy of tears.

Worthy of a life without man made fears.

 

But two days ago, I saw the flower wilt,

Droop and cry.

I reached out. Oh I reached out! To man…

To man who knew the world’s inner strength,

He and She, who knew a life worthy of celebration,

And worthy of tears.

And they told me, whispered silently yet with a smile,

“My dear, my dear, do not weep…

“My love, please know your love we keep.”

But still I lay discontent, and so stood

To fall to beg. “But sufferings of life,

“That I would live, of duty, with strife.

“Tell me, please, why then should I?

“How do you live with soul and sigh?”

Unknown to them, their answer nigh,

“Oh my love, we don’t – that’s why we cry.”

 

The eleventh of December was dreary indeed,

Without Mankind, my crutch.

The fall from innocence was inevitable now,

Unless was found a fact: its truth.

I struggled and fought myself to hold,

An ounce of red on my noble rose.

I had lost those dear to me – my path and love.

I could hence turn only to my faith in world’s strength.

I cried.

“And are you too a lie!?

“Do you hold the beauty I saw, I thought I saw?

“Have you made a golden rule of law?”

But it gave no answer. Silence was my earned wage.

“Is that it?” I screamed now. “You die in death?

“I held myself to sufferings of my own breath?”

The world I listened to would not reply,

And so, with those lasting words, I died.

 

It was a cold morning, on the twelfth of December,

When I sipped from a strong earl grey.

I was liberated today, this morning after,

Free from any noble friction,

In silent mourning of lost illusions.

I hugged close my cup, in humble compliance,

Sinfully sinless.

It was a frosty morning, on the twelfth,

When roses lay below the ground.

It was a noble pose, this devastation,

Hiding pain of death beneath,

Deep beneath the quiet companion of ice.

It was fear that brought me warmth,

That fleeting warmth of toil and tea.

It was fear that drove me to snow the sea.

[Ayshela]

beaming smile

i LIKE this.

 

It was a cold morning, on the twelfth of December,

When I sipped from a strong earl grey.

beautiful juxtaposition of cold and warmth. well done, and one can almost taste the tea..

 

Hiding pain of death beneath,

Deep beneath the quiet companion of ice.

this.. this is wonderful. very dense, very compact. nicely, nicely done.

 

*hugs*

[Zariah]

This, Justin Silverblade, is a very sad and beautiful poem. The juxtaposition of beauty and sadness is what I find to no only impact me emotionally, but I admire the artistic characteristics.

 

This is a poem that could be written or read somewhere and with the right inflection, pausing, general created vocal mood, could bring the audience to tears.

What amount of work did you put into this? It seems not only well written, but thought out perhaps? Could you explain your motivations for such a striking construction. (not necessarily the personal circumstances, but maybe why?)

 

 

I really admire your talent.

 

[Justin Silverblade]

 

Aww thanks gals. I'm glad you liked this. I was trying to get out of my typical 4 line, rhymed verse. This message really couldn't be expressed with that kind of style anyways, so it worked out really well.

 

This is a poem that could be written or read somewhere and with the right inflection, pausing, general created vocal mood, could bring the audience to tears.

That was much how I intended it - I really spoke it to myself as I typed. I'm glad it got that kind of emotion across.

 

What amount of work did you put into this? It seems not only well written, but thought out perhaps? Could you explain your motivations for such a striking construction. (not necessarily the personal circumstances, but maybe why?)

The poem itself took me the better half of a couple hours to write, but the topic had been bouncing around my head for quite some time. I didn't quite know how it was going to turn out until I sat down and started putting it together.

 

My motivations for writing it? Well, without going into personal circumstances... the want to express. It's one of those things that, when I discuss it with my friends, it gets quite lost. I'm quite unable to convey my meaning simply and cleanly in an open conversation. Quite often I lose myself. So in trying to find a way to express this message - this unwanted, but somewhat voluntary loss of innocence. This.... fear of "growth" (be it backward or forward). My motivation thus, was to sit down and see if I could express it at all, or if it was to stay in my head forever. I think it came out rather well.

 

Does this explain it? If it doesn't, I'm sure I can try again.

 

Again, glad you liked it and thanks for your comments!

 

- Justin