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Poems from the Serenwilde
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authored and scribed by Hadrian

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The First
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Every bright new break of day
A new ray contorts my heart;
I do enjoy this wit unmatched,
But grow ever less attached
To the pulsing of this world,
This dim swirl of love and hate:
To procreate or desecrate:
I denounce, refuse this blight,
This I know - I am right!

Every sunset I ingest,
A new nest is built in me;
Burnt debris around my heart,
Bit by bit it smothers it,
And the pecking of the rocs
Is merciless, accursed flock,
Wrecking all my fearful locks;
I am naked 'fore the world.

As Sun widens all my pores,
Feeling sore, I remain
Wanting more than my domain
Mighty roar!... in my head
Speaks to me, tells me so,
"O life's slave, stop already!"
But, life's slave, I ignore.

I still live in the shade of life.

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- Birth in the Southwest -
==========================

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Top of a slope
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The wind is the sparrow's nemesis
As she flutters to her nest,
Golden crest upon her breast,
To her young she flies with zest,
They all ready to digest,
The food she brings to them.

The gust carries the sparrow off-track,
Slams her right into the oak:
All her tiny bones it broke,
Nature's wrath did it provoke,
But nature did a chuckle choke,
When the wind then to it spoke:
"Just a joke! Just a joke!"

._._.
Pixie
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Little pixie meant no harm,
When she pulled me by the arm,
It was play and that I knew,
But what trouble would it brew!

All her sisters sought but fun:
Who was I, their joy to shun?
Death, however, had its way;
The price to pay for this hurray!

It was play and that they thought,
Though I tried, and yes, I fought:
"Stop with the tickling, now, enough!"
But they thought I liked it rough.

._._._._._._
Rabbit holes
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Urlachmar it was, I think,
When a shaggy rabbit came to me,
Singing, "Dead, o dead, he is!"
Left me pond'ring - who is this?
Then from sight I see him slink,
His face alight with evil glee.

Yestermonth he came again,
Mumbling to his little self,
"Progeny! What curse is this?
Oh, my plan has gone amiss!"

Suddenly, from out the bush,
Came three rabbits, all alike,
Hopping hopefully about,
Looking for their rabbit holes.

Toward the river he did push,
Readying his jealous strike:
"This way, here's the route
To your father's rabbit holes!"

._._._._._
Moon River
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Release me not from your curves,
Th'extatic curves of your love;
For your curves are all I've left.
I'd renounce my God, my faith,
If by word or act you asked:
Solely in your shores do I,
Wretch in love, find sanctuary.
Do not leave me in the night,
Tapping down this earthy road,
Your embrace is what I crave -
But I do not want to spoil
Your perfection, silver bliss,
With my filthy, upright form.

._._._._._.
Massive oak
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It is your gigantic form, massive oak,
Which uplifts me when I'm down,
Which depicts the size of life,
The vast expanse in which I drown.

It's your heavy branches I find solace in:
They comfort my troubled mind
And combine to form a network
Of depth most intricate and refined.

Your rugged bark deflects malevolence,
Mighty bastion of good will,
And in whoever lays their hand upon it
Does undying fealty instill.

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- Life in the North -
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._._._._.
The bench
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She was sitting on this bench,
Simple square of wood and air,
Stupid bench on which she sat,
Cheeks so fair and full of flair,
All I wanted was to wrench,
Wrench her from that stupid bench.

Take her to another bench,
One I planned and built by hand,
And on that one, my grand bench,
I would of her form demand,
Demand her hand in marriage.

I would gain her hand in marriage,
For what poor crook could disparage
The genius of my grand bench
Sitting in this stinky trench
Where none would think to look.

._._._._._._._._._.
Evergreen hillsides
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I was told when I was little
Of a labyrinth in the Forest,
One so old, build so brittle,
With a taste for little boys:
Monstrous labyrinth that devoured
All the little boys inside.

Today I realize my mistake,
When I see this paradise:
Beautiful evergreen hillsides,
What god's hand dared thee make?
Such a maze of joy you are -
This little boy you bore to life.

._._._._._.
Dark tangle
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What a twisted face I see
When I look right at your mug
Skin so clad in selfish rage
A darker face I've yet to see.
Somehow, though, your face looks nice
When I see it from behind
Such an unexpected twist
Adorns your ugly maw.
And evil-looking as you are,
I still can't help myself but think,
When I look right at your face,
"This is the face I love to see!"

._._._._._._._._.
Carpet of flowers
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This little flower wanted to bloom
And tower above all the rest,
Yet the rest refused to give him room,
So he died and withered, depressed.

This little flower wanted to live
In a carpet of flowers with everyone else
But his poor soul couldn't forgive
The flower that wanted to tower so high,
So he withered and said his goodbye.

This carpet of flowers, tapestry of fate,
Its infinite strands of red and green
Always colliding and trying to smother
Each other, such an unholy scene;
Telling each other to nauseating degree,
"Either you're with me or against me."

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- Death in the Southeast -
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._._._._._._._._._.
Willow by the water
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Willow bending over th'river,
Why'd you fill it with your tears?
When was it in all your years,
When did you start weeping?

While I know that hearts can crumble -
Worries sometimes make you sour,
Words, I hope, will prove me humble...
Words, I hope, will give you power.

Why, I wonder, did the river
Wade silently down its bed,
With your weeping form aquiver
Watching your reflected self?

Why'd the trees around you see
Willow by the water weeping,
Wrenched their eyes from your poor form?

When'd the forest cease to be
Warm sanctuary for the weeping?

Whence comes this heart-choking storm?

._._._._._.
Trail's end
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Yesterday,
'Twas time for me to go
Time to leave it all behind
And leap off the cliff od death.
My knotted soul was to unwind,
Again to breathe a happy breath,
Yesterday, that moment grand,
When, at long last, naught is bland.

Yesterday
I had the chance to be alive
More than I had ever been
Stronger than I'd ever be.
That moment of departure,
Of sad farewells and adieus,
That moment I did realize,
My dear sky was a new blue.

Today
I mourn that one chance I had,
Mourn the weakling that I am,
For I leapt not from the cliff,
Enticed by life's fair farewell,
And thus I sit here, feeling wrong,
Feeling so much nothingness,
Feeling out of place.

Today,
I enter the next phase of my life -
Natural undeath.

._._._._._._.
Carpet of ivy
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All the more alone, all the madder,
All the darker, all the more ashamed,
All the colder, all the more repulsive
Grow I this accursed Autumn.

All the lamer, now icy to the bone,
All the deader, all the murkier my form,
All the stiller, all the more out of place
Grows this failed Autumn around me.

All the uglier, all the unfriendlier
Grows this persistent Autumn,
All the more disgusting, itself disgusted,
Yet it still grows all the more autumn.

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Edge of the Serenwilde
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I have a homeland; in my heart she's born,
Her trees and grasslands there I bear,
Where to lay this paradise?, in vain I ask
And... gulp down my pain.

And all that tramples her, leaves scars upon my heart,
A mockery of her a mockery of me,
All taken from her is ripped from me too,
Never returned, never repaid.

I bear this godhood, this miraculous scripture,
My spirit's very last breath;
And if she fell to the all-razing hand,
I would die a death for two.

Ah, I have nothing left; she is all I saved:
And in her, I saved it all,
All the youthful days I spent dreaming
Dreams of my older days.

Through the flames licking at my skin
I bore her cheek untouched;
In my lap I nurtured her downcast pulse
And kissed her pale shadow.

... I have a homeland, only hidden in my chest,
And I must run to save her;
The Tempest trampled all the flowers of my mind
Except her majestic goodness.

It lurks, lurks, lurks... as I silently hold her,
While awake and while asleep,
And twitch and turn and feel desperately around,
Is she, is she still here?!

All this flowered land and her veiny rivers
Make my life worthwhile,
I'm a lute, her gentle hands pluck my strings,
Sending music... everywhere.

And when my soul becomes one with the world,
My voice will be the thunder,
The quake and whirlwind and flood which shout:
"This! This is my homeland!"