Perfect funeral music. (Poem)

Another poem inspired by happenings in the outside world.

The eerie yet beatiful sound of the piano spread slowly throughout the air
Like a magnificent fish slowly swimming through clear water
The sounds sparkling in ears like tiny rainbows created by a waterfall in the sun
The eerie melody conjuring a moment of magnificent sadness in the listeners
Reminding them of what was gone and at the same time the magnificence that might await.

Continuing further the waves of sound refused to disappear until everyone were enlightened.
The moment was to be spent in happiness and sadness to best present the manner of human life.
Waves of sound enhancing the concentration until the moment seemed to linger.
As if a last demonstration of the true stubborn nature of the deceased.

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Poem – Dreaming

Mankind’s very own evil
May continue to seem surreal
Through the night or through the day
It’s all a bunch of crap some might say
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

However truth is rarely told
By the masses of humans who think they are bold
Continuing throughout our lives
The evil of mankind thrives.
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Growing growing everlasting
Evil’s hold on the world casting
The world itself into shadow’s hold
The darkest of stories that remain untold.
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Yet in humans hope still resides
In silence those people the evil abides
But one day the truth will come forth
In the east, west, the south and the north
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Time

Everlasting, endless, forever.
The time you wish for comes never.
The wish for happiness soon forgotten.
Time continues till bodies turn rotten.

The grains of sand in the hourglass.
The rolex watch as a token of class.
Mankind’s shallowness continues to surprise.
Out of it the darkness of evil may rise.

The happy endings in fariy tails.
The actors bathing in countless fan mails.
Tools for altering ones emotions.
Are known to cause quite the commotions.

Time inadvertedly changes them back.
The altered emotions that got lost from their track.
Ultimately children of the soil we are.
Rarely do we stray from it too far.

Time ensures the return of us all.
Plants and animals alike get the call.
Time defeats it all in the end.
Wishes, dreams and emotions, my friend.

Poem – boredom.

Hmm finally managed to think up something to write a poem about, the writing itself always comes rather easily to me, after the first line that is, but finding something to write a poem about is a pain.

Boredom

Boredom is a state of mind, an opinionated feeling
Nothing, rarely, dislike
To concentration it’s a spike
Boredom grows with time
Like a slowly doubling dime
Increasing restlessness sends your thoughts reeling.

Slowly it builds up like a pond, slowly ever slow
Anxiety, restlessness, impatience
Side effects, in a sense
The inner chemicals in a brawl
The amounts rising barely at a crawl
The inner winds of chaos slowly start to blow.

Escaping is fairly easy, something interesting to do
Writing, watching, playing
Entertainment rather swaying
The inner winds are calming down
In a sea of entertainment they drown
Boredom, anxiety and restlessness gone until born anew.

Arrival + Poetry

This is Ragnar from yesterday night talking, I’m here to inform you of what I hope will happen tomorrow. (Be warned the following is strictly fiction not prophecy)

After writing numerous posts I finally went to bed, about 8 am. Somehow when I woke up at noon I felt full of energy and very awake. After taking the bus downtown I bought several books of the Fantasy and Thriller/Crime genres, to keep me from dying from boredom late at night with nothing to do while staying at my grandmother’s house. Then I went to my favorite hair dresser to remove some of my excess hair, to avoid dying from an overly hot brain. After I had packed most of my needed stuff, I hitched a ride with a parent of my close friend to the airport. When we arrived at the airport I checked in my bags and then waited 30-40 minutes before entering the plane.

After approx. 40-45 minutes of flying the flight came to a temporary ending at “Trondheim Lufthavn” where I went off the plane, bought a pizza slice or two and a coke (real healthy meal yes I know) ate/drank it, then settled down with one of my newly bought books. After a couple of hours of waiting the plane I was gonna fly onwards with started boarding so I went down to the correct gate. After entering the plane I “fastened my seatbelt” and started to read once again. After a short flight that seemed to only last minutes due to the exciting book I exited the plane and picked up my luggage quickly thereafter my aunt drove me to my Grandmother’s house. As usual I arrived to a deliscious meal.

Remember:

Life at the edge is the blog of the week for being interesting and unique.

An old poem that I wrote myself a while ago:

The mountains in the west.

 

The sun went down
And sat a golden crown
Upon the mountains in the west.

The jagged spires,
Looked like fires,
Upon the mountains in the west.

The creatures saw,
And gaped in awe,
Upon the mountains in the west.

The free man saw,
And noticed a flaw,
Upon the mountains in the west.

As snow did melt,
The sun was felt,
Upon the mountains in the west.

The water found a way,
To avoid the mountain stay,
Upon the mountains in the west.

As the water rushed down,
To escape the golden crown,
The mountains they fell,
Almost creating hell,
Oh yes they fell,
They crashed down I can tell.

The mountains in the west.

Poetry among other things.

The weird smile.

The sun a coin of molten fire.
Heating like a huge pyre.
The dunes of sand stretched out as far as the eye could see.
The sting of sun upon uncovered skin felt like the sting of a bee.
A man dressed in black, stood on a dune and watched over to the east.
His eyes were crazed, his mind was dazed, and he thought he saw a feast.

The sun a coin of molten fire.
Heating like a huge pyre.
The man had no water, and he had not had a drink since the end of the last week.
He should have been dead but his soul did not break loose and leave him with a shriek.
He could barely stand as his eyes saw only the feast.
He could not move nor walk, no, not in the least.

The sun a coin of molten fire.
Heating lite a huge pyre.
The man tried to move and as a result was forced to fall.
He had not realized the dune he was on had a drop quite so tall.
As he landed below the top of the dune he had sank down to his hips.
His mind was lost as he thought he was swimming and kissing a woman on the lips.
The heat of the sand he was in, forced his death to come to.
Though he died of thirst in a desert he was smiling weirdly at you.
The last thing he did, in his mind at least, was something desirable to do.
He had actually lived for more than a year in fact one hundred and two.

Major changes coming up for this blog:
I am going to add categories for you to easily be able to read what you like best.
I am going to post several times a week for a longer period of time.
I am going to keep “The blog of the Week” alive and might even add an award given time.
I am going to do my best to improve the design and content.

Also, I strongly reccomend that you visit this week’s blog of the week, New York Nitty-Gritty.
Otilius has an amazing eye when it comes to taking pictures.

The hunters, Poem.

The sky was black on a winter night.
And clouds were hiding the stars so bright.
The forest as ever was full of trees.
And the leaves were all moved by the lightest breeze.

There were no shadows as there were no light.
But still you could hear the sounds of a fight.
The animals that lived in the forest so huge.
Were fighting to get themselves the right to refuge.

From the hunters out there calm in the night.
The animals wanted to hide, but never got it right.
The deadliest animals ever to be in sight.
Were sitting on the hill watching the animals fight.
The hunters so deadly they were, at night.
The hunters so deadly they were, at night.

The animals fought and though some did win.
They almost immediately got punished for their sin.
As the hunters decided that the time was right.
The hunters so deadly they were at night.

They loaded and readied their guns just right.
The clicks were never heard amidst the fight.
The animals did everything wrong that night.
The hunters so deadly they were at night.

Sunrise was still far away.
The fighting had lead the animals astray.
The hunters aimed and let their bullets fly.
And every single one of the animals did die.

The animals did everything wrong that night.
The hunters so deadly they are at night.

Poetry: The strongest’s right.

The strongest’s right.
The moon rose up to illuminate the trees, Little did the small birds know.
That they were about to be killed, by just one killing blow.
When the moon was on the peak of its course on the cloudless sky.
The birds were all dead, but had got no time to dread, or not even to wonder why.

But why would someone want to kill, some birds that had done nothing wrong.
The wrongdoer must be weird? Or maybe even feared? Perhaps seen in a human throng?
The wrongdoer was not weird and never feared, but in his eyes his actions were his right.
The strongest’s right was what he callled it, he would have the king to be the best to fight.

The inventer of this, discussed little thing, called the strongest’s right.
He was not even large, not close to strong and far from what is called bright.
But one thing he did, though stupid it was, he invented “the strongest’s right”.
So watch your mouth then, and lock all your doors, and seal your windows tight.
Noone will be safe, from chastise or chafe, as long as the followers won’t “see the light”.
And remember, lock your doors right, seal your windows tight, or they’ll come for you, in the middle of the night.
©Copyright 2006, Ragnar the owner of this blog.


Trivia:

What was the moral of the poem?
(The ones who get it right will get buttons in my right sidebar so remember to leave an url to your blog together with your answer.. :D) (Need to my right sidebar with something so feel free to answer correctly.)

Poetry: The Mountains in the west.

The sun went down
And sat a golden crown
Upon the mountains in the west.

The jagged spires,
Looked like fires,
Upon the mountains in the west.

The creatures saw,
And gaped in awe,
Upon the mountains in the west.

The free man saw,
And noticed a flaw,
Upon the mountains in the west.

As snow did melt,
The sun was felt,
Upon the mountains in the west.

The water found a way,
To avoid the mountain stay,
Upon the mountains in the west.

As the water rushed down,
To escape the golden crown,
The mountains they fell,
Almost creating hell,
Oh yes they fell,
They crashed down I can tell.

The mountains in the west.

9/11 Poem..

A drop of water fell silently through the air, allthough it was falling, there was no sign of anything anywhere near it, so it might as well have been standing still.
What gave the movement away, was the disturbance on the drop’s, otherwise perfect surface, caused by the tiny resistance that the air around it offered.
The light of a rising sun caused the drop of water to glow red, and the red color spread throughout the drop as the surface rippled and the shining light reflected upon the single straw of perfectly green grass that was placed in the middle of a gold wasteland mainly consisting of dirt and jagged rocks, allthough the one straw of grass seemed tiny in comparision to the rest of the wasteland, it was clear that the one drop, the one red drop, of water was heading towards the one straw of grass placed in the middle of a gold wasteland.
The drop continued to fall silently towards the straw of grass, and when drop and straw met, not a whisper of a sound was created, because they met not in collision, but in embrasement.
This was how the nature silently paid its respect to humanity and its loss, the wind did not even move the grass slightly, as it bent under the red drop of water’s weight.
Together they made a contrast filled candle, a candle lit with the help of both wind and sun, a candle made respectfully by the nature of whom we came.
Together the perfectioned red drop of water, and the amazingly green straw of grass, was paying their respects to humanity that so many times had abused them.
Together they formed a candle for those who died, and those who were left behind on September The 11th 2001.

Sincerely,
Ragnar

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