A Poem

So, I don't exactly remember why, but I ended up posting a lot of poetry on Facebook over the course of my Freshman and Sophomore years. And it's kind of funny to me because the poetry at times was some of--at least I thought--the best. One of my favorites was about the Knight's tale in the book, Canterbury Tales. I figured it might be good to post it hear as well.

If Pluto’s Rings

Arcita is dead,
and Saturn awaits
To take his soul
to Pluto’s grip
and thirsty cold.

What fight there was
of brothers’ tiff.
I saw them take their step,
And into misery they flew,
fighting for the love of life.

They know Not what
they leave behind;
But Palamon, life’s chosen you,
and Arcita is dead.

The cold;
The fire;
The truth;
And black are the eyes
of he who has passed away;
God has favored he who remains;
but cold are the lands
He leaves behind,
barren as a concubine;
With Midas touch
it’s frozen dead,
The land where Arcita
did rest his stead;
And Palamon - the better man -
Mourns the loss
But loves the absence.

So Palamon, Do Rise!
And take your loss with open eyes;
Your life is a key to
the door of destiny
And it screams your name.

PALAMON! ARISE!
And breathe the air of victory;
This is what we waited for!
The prison’s down,
Smile upon your fertile ground.

PALAMON! Victorious Man!
Grab your stakes and cast a tent
to milk the honey from this land;
And feel the warmth of truth,
the fire burns ever through.

Palamon, remember your friend
in Hades you will make amends
and finally thank him for his death
You have been freed - Hatched from slavery
Now Arise.
________________________________________

I wish I had the time to write more right now. It would be great to talk about naming objects, and how I just christened my car. Or even get into grudges and cold shoulders. But unfortunately, I'll have to keep those on the back burner until Islam readings are done.