Jubal's poems

[Skull]

you want the account written by Herodotus of the Persian wars. 

lol. 

[comrade_general]

You guys don't seem to realize that I was kidding.

[Jubal]

I knew; that's just British humour for you I'm afraid. 

[Scarlet]

So much folk song. You're just missing the doleful ghost

Up for any triumph points?

[Jubal]

All the folk song. 

An actual poem for once:

Dwellings

I was born in a land of reed and hay
I grew upon the chalk and clay
And yet with books I spent my day
For I could them call my home
But for a little while.

These four walls are not my own
This sacred hall, this cold bare stone
This windswept town, these towers of bone
And yet I shall call this home
But for a little while.

And so you found me weeping there;
I shook like grass; you touched my hair
Then vanished in the morning air
And I smiled in sadness, for you felt like home
Oh! to have a home...
But for a little while.

On this wide earth of gods and men
Never shall I rest again
Except to tarry, now and then
For all the world's a home
But for a little while.

[Jubal]

Tears and tears

See, this is my tattered flag
Buffeted by the wind on a cold winter's day
The shouts that rain down upon it
The rain that soaks it until it can no longer
Whistle in each gust
And sing its song to the world
The people who pass it by
Who have been told not to know what
A square of fabric can be
They hope without thinking
Or think without hope
And I watch them, body, brain, eyes
I watch them
They pass the tattered flag by.

See, this is my tattered life
Buffeted by the wind on a cold winter's day
Pieces almost torn away in the gales
That try to break me
Barely seeming real any more
Thoughts and hopes lie there
Barely remembered
As I struggle to stand
Struggle to think
Hope
Breathe
Hope
Breathe
Mind
Cannot think
Cannot not think
Hope
Breathe
Hope
Breathe
Silence.

But

See, these are my tattered dreams
Buffeted by the wind on a cold winter's day
They remain, breath after breath.
Real things in a real world
With my real brain to dream them
My real legs for them to stand on
My real lungs to be filled with them
My real voice to speak them
Word by word by word
As I sing the song of the future that is known only to me
As real ears hear my words, real eyes see
The bags under my eyes, the trembling of my hands
The slow smile.
Come then, friend. These are my dreams.
Share them if you wish
Leave them if you must
Take them from me?

If you dare.

[Jubal]

A short refrain, not actually to music but I've called it a song nonetheless.

Song for Cepheida
And so let us be that which we are.
The lost and damned, ever flying
To seek another world, another star
Our home is everywhere; with each sun a new dawn comes.
And it shall be said of each one who steps into the night
That they shall walk in the darkness, and so find the light.

[Jubal]

Nice and festive one here! 

Cthulu's Carol

Now rest ye merry Elder Gods,
Let nothing you awake,
Not eldritch lord nor daemonkin
Nor witch burned at the stake,
Lest this fine world we live upon,
You suddenly unmake,

O tidings of everlasting doom (lasting doom)
O tidings of everlasting doom!

So fear the burning pentagram
That's painted on your floor,
And shun the warlock covens that
Are beating down your door,
For fear that great Cthulu shall
Soon walk the earth once more,

[CHORUS]

So gather round in friendship now
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace,
For you won't get another chance
When Baal devours your face!

[CHORUS x2]

[Othko97]

Wow. This is brilliant.

[Jubal]

Thankyou

[Scarlet]

It is lovely

[Jubal]

In honour of the recently departed Doctor:

Oldborn

One day I'll be born like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai)
One day I'll be born like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai!)
One day I'll be born like you
My cells on fire, my face anew
(With a hey-ho... hey-o ai!)

One day I will laugh like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai)
One day I will laugh like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai!)
One day I will laugh like you
A billion souls I'll give hope to
(With a hey-ho... hey-o ai!)

One day I will dance like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai)
One day I will dance like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai!)
One day I will dance like you
And a thousand worlds will dance here too
(With a hey-ho... hey-o ai!)

One day I will fight like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai)
One day I will fight like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai!)
One day I will fight like you
Death in my eyes and my box so blue
(With a hey-ho... hey-o ai!)

One day I will limp like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai)
One day I will limp like you
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai!)
One day I will limp like you
Remembering all the friends I knew
(With a hey-ho... hey-o ai!)

One day I'll be burned and gone
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai)
One day I'll be burned and gone
(With a hey-ho, hey-o ai!)
One day I'll be burned and gone
And another new face will sing this song
(With a hey-ho... hey-o ai!)

[Jubal]

Decisions

The thousand roads we are given to walk
Past smoke-stacks, forests, crags and bays
The crossroad meetings, the hidden sights
Running through fields on mad march days

The ten thousand eyes we are given to learn
Under hair, under hat, above frown, above smile
The dark solemn waiting, the hope and the love
As the road stretches on for another short while

The ingredients, all, that cook up our lives
We must learn how to use them, through reason, or rhyme
But one above all; the one thing that is ours
Not parsley, or sage, or rosemary... but time.

[comrade_general]

[Jubal]

More of a monologue/ramble than a poem, but ah well. I scribbled it a few months back and just got round to typing it in.

History

In the past, I stood.
Today, I sit.
Tomorrow, perhaps I shall stand again.

I do not walk in eternity
Fort to move, to push, was never my call.
I sit, I stand, I talk,
I speak, write, talk and talk,
And hope that my words are caterpillars that can grow wings
And not just slugs, condemned to lumber and never see the world

I am, after all, a historian
Not a warrior, not a surgeon.
I observe and observe, in terror and fascination
Knowing not from whence man came
But trying to explain
I, master only of myself
No leader; no hero; no father.

But I cannot escape time.
I never would have let it escape me;
It only seems fair in the end
Voices cry out from battered pages
Dreams of gold-forged greatness wall my mind -
To help, oh to help
So how can I be what I know I am
When this world around me is not what I know it is
And I stand at last.
These battered pages will not record my failure.
Nor, though, though, will they tell of my sorrow.

Historian; heal thyself...