by Nick Gisburne
This is the ending of all I have known
Weary and worthless, defeated, I die
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone
Torn from a body of muscle and bone
Death is upon me before I can fly
This is the ending of all I have known
Neither a grave nor a marker of stone
Only a spectre, a shadow, a sigh
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone
Sentenced to silence, too late to atone
No one is waiting to wave me goodbye
This is the ending of all I have known
Destiny smothers the seeds I have sewn
Lost to the wilderness, sold to the sky
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone
Death has no kingdom, no treasure, no throne
Emptiness, knowing my life was a lie
This is the ending of all I have known
Deep as a dream, in the darkness, alone
Showing posts with label villanelle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label villanelle. Show all posts
Saturday, 12 June 2021
Saturday, 29 February 2020
The Book of Dreams
by Nick Gisburne
The book of despicable, dangerous dreams
Describing a path some are fearful to leave
The myths of a god who is not what he seems
A smokescreen for villains and vicious regimes
Its narrative twisted to cheat and deceive
The book of despicable, dangerous dreams
A hollow collection of arrogant schemes
Imposed on the gullible, needy, naïve
The myths of a god who is not what he seems
A banner for war and a shield for extremes
A licence to kill for the minds who believe
The book of despicable, dangerous dreams
A river of lies fed by poisonous streams
The wine of salvation, which none shall receive
The myths of a god who is not what he seems
Its doubters denounced with intolerant screams
The death rites of freedom, for which we should grieve
The book of despicable, dangerous dreams
The myths of a god who is not what he seems
The book of despicable, dangerous dreams
Describing a path some are fearful to leave
The myths of a god who is not what he seems
A smokescreen for villains and vicious regimes
Its narrative twisted to cheat and deceive
The book of despicable, dangerous dreams
A hollow collection of arrogant schemes
Imposed on the gullible, needy, naïve
The myths of a god who is not what he seems
A banner for war and a shield for extremes
A licence to kill for the minds who believe
The book of despicable, dangerous dreams
A river of lies fed by poisonous streams
The wine of salvation, which none shall receive
The myths of a god who is not what he seems
Its doubters denounced with intolerant screams
The death rites of freedom, for which we should grieve
The book of despicable, dangerous dreams
The myths of a god who is not what he seems
Thursday, 23 January 2020
Remember, You Must
by Nick Gisburne
They burned us to ashes and buried our dust
Our children, our families, slaughtered in spite
Remember our faces, remember, you must
The window-panes, smashed, though they said it was just
A city of glass turned to crystal at night
They burned us to ashes and buried our dust
Condemned to the ghettos, uncaring, unjust
Despised undesirables, hidden from sight
Remember our faces, remember, you must
Not human, worth only contempt and disgust
And after the trains, in the camps, in the night
They burned us to ashes and buried our dust
Their Final Solution, a frenzied blood lust
The world could not save us, and we could not fight
Remember our faces, remember, you must
Old empires have fallen, in ruin and rust
But we are the memories, we are the light
They burned us to ashes and buried our dust
Remember our faces, remember, you must
Written for Holocaust Memorial Day, 27 January 2020, which marks the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz.
We must all remember.
They burned us to ashes and buried our dust
Our children, our families, slaughtered in spite
Remember our faces, remember, you must
The window-panes, smashed, though they said it was just
A city of glass turned to crystal at night
They burned us to ashes and buried our dust
Condemned to the ghettos, uncaring, unjust
Despised undesirables, hidden from sight
Remember our faces, remember, you must
Not human, worth only contempt and disgust
And after the trains, in the camps, in the night
They burned us to ashes and buried our dust
Their Final Solution, a frenzied blood lust
The world could not save us, and we could not fight
Remember our faces, remember, you must
Old empires have fallen, in ruin and rust
But we are the memories, we are the light
They burned us to ashes and buried our dust
Remember our faces, remember, you must
Written for Holocaust Memorial Day, 27 January 2020, which marks the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz.
We must all remember.
Tuesday, 21 January 2020
She Burns the Letters
by Nick Gisburne
She burns the letters, each poisonous note
The pledges, the vows, not one of them true
And rips out the lies from his dying throat
Unfaltering love, forever, he wrote
Deception, designed to break her in two
She burns the letters, each poisonous note
The ship of her dreams, a derelict boat
Her captain has sailed with another crew
She rips out the lies from his dying throat
Love’s paint peels away, the dark undercoat
A bouquet of bruises, in purple and blue
She burns the letters, each poisonous note
The last of her smiles, imagined, remote
He sold her this pain, but payment is due
She rips out the lies from his dying throat
His venom, his hate, her sweet antidote
Release, as he chokes, as the knife drives through
She burns the letters, each poisonous note
And rips out the lies from his dying throat
She burns the letters, each poisonous note
The pledges, the vows, not one of them true
And rips out the lies from his dying throat
Unfaltering love, forever, he wrote
Deception, designed to break her in two
She burns the letters, each poisonous note
The ship of her dreams, a derelict boat
Her captain has sailed with another crew
She rips out the lies from his dying throat
Love’s paint peels away, the dark undercoat
A bouquet of bruises, in purple and blue
She burns the letters, each poisonous note
The last of her smiles, imagined, remote
He sold her this pain, but payment is due
She rips out the lies from his dying throat
His venom, his hate, her sweet antidote
Release, as he chokes, as the knife drives through
She burns the letters, each poisonous note
And rips out the lies from his dying throat