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TTruly has he spoken in his word,
Tested the commands that we have heard.
Thank the Lord for wrath and mercy both,
Thank the Lord for pruning and for growth.
Tread upon the path that He has set:
Time is his. Why hold onto regret?
Trust in Him whose walk has never slipped;
Take His grace, and by it be equipped.
The Joy of Man's DesiringHis voice was ringing in my ears, a dare
To look beyond my wildest dreams, forswear
The comfort I had grown accustomed to
For something more eternal and more true.
"The eyes of God are sweeping to and fro
To find a man who steps in faith to go
Submit to lordship with a humble heart,
Who hears His call to sanctify his name
And let the nations deeply know his fame,
Who clings devotedly to Jesus Christ
And loves him greater than his very life,
Who by the Spirit day by day obeys
Its precious urgings and its holy ways.
That one of you would open up their eyes
And know this is your joy, not your demise!"
His words were different, but in my ears
I heard God's voice. And oh, those burning tears,
Those tears burned hot and heavy like
My hamm'ring heart, for that immortal strike
Had caused the visions and ambitions I
Had desperately clung onto to die.
I wept. I sobbed. I could not hold it in;
I saw, convicted, how great was my sin.
Pass me, Lord, I cannot bear this cup
With all the ways I've
Sonnet LIXOp. 25, no. 6
Spirit and Flesh
That I might see what the old world could say
If we by fluke of chance should come to meet!
Would Belial keep Christ as far away
As could be walked by weary, bloodied feet?
Or would he, like a flapping moth to flame,
Find hope of glory irresistible?
This confrontation difficult to name
Of forces spiritual and physical
Is one that daily wages in my soul,
A new creation breaking from the chains
That held it down. This skirmish for control
Will rage until the rightful world remains.
My old self, who I was, you shall not be
The self I hold for all eternity.
HelpOh Lord, whose throne is planted in the skies,
Regard your servant's upturned, tearful eyes;
I look to you, be gracious unto me,
Whose soul is rent by terrifying grief.
The scorn that hurts me, put it all to shame
When tempest-tossed I call upon your name.
A Frozen Ballad, Part IVSnowmen Left Unbuilt
From that day on, the princesses
Were worlds apart by doors.
They longed for happy times that could
Not happen anymore.
For thirteen years, the younger sister's
Knock was left ignored,
And building snowmen, when she asked,
No longer struck a chord.
For while the halls where Anna roamed
Were warm and sunshine lit,
The chamber Elsa paced in was
Her cage, its walls frostbit.
Her powers waxed year after year,
But yet, waned her control,
The worry and the anguish burrowed
Deep into her soul.
The gloves she wore were only good
For shackling her mind;
Her parents calmly talked, but she
Could not respond in kind.
"Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show,"
The mantra she'd repeat,
But in her heart she knew this was
Impossible, this feat.
The King and Queen, they sadly passed
Upon a stormy sea
And left two daughters on their own,
A land to oversee,
And broken hearts and memories.
What will you bring, O cruelest fate,
To thaw these frozen hearts innate
Before the time g
A Frozen Ballad, Part IIIThe Trolls
In ancient runes, the legends tell
Of strangest creatures, trolls,
Whose healing power stems from all
The magic they control.
And so the royal family
Took Anna, limp and cold,
On horseback to the valley where
Trolls live, as they were told.
They say the horse's path was trailed
By signs of Elsa's grief,
A line of hoary frost behind
Had caked on rock and leaf.
By nightfall they had reached the vale,
But nothing was in sight,
Just mossy rocks so strangely round
That littered all the site.
But hark! A rumbling of the earth,
And all the rocks revealed
That they had eyes and ears and noses
On the humans peeled.
The oldest and the craggiest
Came forth with worried gaze,
And placed a hand on Anna's head,
Who still lay in a daze.
"Fortunate, indeed we are,
It did not hit her heart.
The mind's a fool, it can be tricked,
Its workings picked apart.
When she awakes, her memories
Of magic will not stay,
But worry not, I'll leave behind
The wintry fun and play.
"And you, my child,
Sonnet LVIIIOp. 25, no. 5
To what you will, to you it doth belong,
These open hands and blessings you have shed,
That I might count my lot not with the strong
But with the weak and wandering instead.
Now let the broken be my brothers dear,
And as my sisters, all the castaways.
My family, the lowly that appear
To hold no hope until their end of days.
We are your sheep, the crowd from long ago
That filled your heart with mercy fit to burst,
The soil you found your gospel fit to sow,
The last you preordained to be the first.
Your mercies, let them be our mercies too,
Our only comfort and our point of view.
A Frozen Ballad, Part IIElsa and Anna
The sun awoke in Arendelle
And shed a golden ray
Into the room where Anna and
Her sister Elsa lay.
A child of the dawn indeed,
Sweet Anna was awake.
She clambered on her sister's bed
And gave her quite a shake.
"The sun's awake, so I am too!
It's time for us to play!"
But Elsa shoved her off the bed
And told her, "Go away!"
But one thing always got her out
Of bed, in Anna's plan:
"Oh Elsa, would you like to build
A wonderful snowman?"
They tiptoed to the ballroom, both
With stifled giggling.
"Do the magic," Anna cheered
With eyes a-twinkling.
What magic could have made her sister
Clap her hands with glee?
What power did young Elsa have
That Anna sought to see?
She swirled her hands, and in her palms
A snowball there she shaped.
And when she tossed it in the air,
The room with snow was draped.
Then Elsa stomped her foot upon
The ballroom's frigid floor
And froze it solid, all the way
From one end to the door.
And how they played! They built the snowman
Anna wanted s
A Frozen Ballad: Part IVuelie
There is a land up in the north
Where northern lights do glow,
Their luminescence brilliant
Upon the ice and snow.
Fair Arendelle, the kingdom of
The mountain and the fjord,
Holds beauty that cannot be tamed
By guile or by sword.
Here heroes dwelt, and ruled the land,
Their songs we still do sing,
And sung the most among this host,
Is Elsa, icy queen.
Her reign was then unparalleled
In might and grace and peace,
And still her legacy has shown
No signs that it should cease.
No song of Elsa would be true
Without her sister there,
Anna, younger by three years,
But every bit as fair.
One red of hair, one snowy white,
Like fire meeting frost,
They loved each other deep and true,
No matter what the cost.
Of Elsa and of Anna many
Stories we could tell,
But we shall sing a summer song
Of how the winter fell.
A song of love that conquers all,
Of hopes and bygone years,
Our story starts one summer morn,
When joy dissolved to tears.
I Built A HouseI built a house
Of stone and sweat
Loftily held together
By thousand of memories.
Within my stone stock-hold
Held some piece of me
And I hoped
It would hold you too,
That it would embrace you
And you would see the beauty
To be found in its stony arms
Cracks and crevices.
And though try as I am
This isn't what you see
What your willing to believe.
All you see are stone walls
Surrounding an empty place
Blocking your view of the sea.
I built a house
Of stone and sweat
To hold you close to me,
Meant to be a home
For our hearts with windows
So we could always
View our sea.
But instead I built walls
And a house of stone and sweat
To build you a home.
UnspokenFor the love
I never shared.
For the things
I'll never tell.
For all the secrets
Big and small.
For the times
I ignored the calls.
For all the words
I left unspoken.
I'm now drowning
In my emotions.
ConfessionI never really expected us to last
Never truly thought we'd make it
Cause when I surrendered my heart to you
I was fully convinced you'd break it
The Wasteland Of Your YouthListen to the words that rest easiest in your heart
‘A boy is coming that will change everything
With seven shades of emerald green in his eyes
One kiss from his lips will end your suffering
And he’ll wake you with a whisper from this nightmare
Prising the hands of hindsight from around your throat
While endeavouring to burst these unwanted thought bubbles
Before they have even had a chance to float
He’ll help you prick them with his narcoleptic needle
So you can fall back in to the limbo of your dreams
Where each lake of loathing can lead to endless love
But only through a passage of patience upstream
Take caution though as the resistance of the current
Is akin to the resistance he feels from you
To open those brown eyes that you’ve hidden so safely
Behind the flooded wasteland of your youth
Rub'i of DisillusionYou ask of my health, and my well being -
I smile, reply; for what you are seeing
foreshadows what I am, disillusioned:
What I imagined in you... gone... fleeing
RomanticismIn the slightest ray of delighted light,
I hold my wetted savior to my eyes,
And think of all that once I might
Have lost in my strenuous tries.
Through beauty and agony I see
The confusion of smoky bliss
Even as it may only be
My loveliest hour and my last night's kiss.
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
μέσα στο χάος του κενού
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
εκεί στο πάτο του βυθού
Σκόρπα τη Θλίψη σου παντού,
σ' όλα τα αστέρια του ουρανού.
Un-CoupletThere are scissors on the floor;
They could hurt me.
There are baskets by the door;
They are the enemy.
There are claws in my thighs;
I feel them tearing.
There is light that will arise;
I feel it glaring.
There is whispering in my head;
I hear them calling.
There are sharpened pieces of lead;
I hear them falling.
I want to cry; I want to die;
Save me from my own sad lie.
You're Not A PoetYou’re not a poet because of strung words
Together on row upon row again
Of blank verse or perhaps liberal rhyme.
‘Slam’ all you want, other poets wonder;
Your ignorance of couplets a blunder?
Yes! I speak harshly, but it’s no gross crime,
To point with honesty failed verse of thine.
No real poet discards upper case words;
Lets prose crawl on paper like listless worms.
You seek to free verse of those stern letters,
Sever away bleak capital fetters,
But it doesn’t sing of great speech sublime,
Rather, it sneaks of writing in spare time.
Wait! before you throw me in the icy Rhine;
It’s hard to put verse together in rhyme,
To make our dull words sound great all the time,
Hear them ring out loud, like a clear clock’s chime,
Heralding a poet’s summer prime.
Yet the sacred muses weep at your crime;
Your pentameter mangled thick like slime,
The subject not gilded in raiment fine;
Your bold ink font, crystal waters divine
Tastes bitter to the ton
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More