black death by mathew henning

Dark tendrils of disease
spread across the land
Twisting
clawing
Reaching until all of Europe
Is in the clutches of Death himself.

Women and children,
Men and kings alike,
a third of the population
all become victims
to the monster named Plague
It waits silently in the dark,
and the filth,
waiting for you to drop your guard.

The beast is hungry.
the beast must be fed.
It cannot be defeated,
It cannot be slain.
We live our lives in fear
of the demise
that waits around the corner.

Millions die,
more become ill
Darkness
in the form of disease
Death knows no prejudice
Plague knows no race
only hunger.

Will the darkness ever end?
Will this curse ever be lifted?
Will the slop of our miserable lives
ever be washed clean?
No one knows
but God above.
Save us.

valley of unrest

The Valley of Unrest

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Once it smiled a silent dell

Where the people did not dwell;

They had gone unto the wars,

Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,

Nightly, from their azure towers,

To keep watch above the flowers,

In the midst of which all day

The red sun-light lazily lay.

Now each visitor shall confess

The sad valley’s restlessness.

Nothing there is motionless—

Nothing save the airs that brood

Over the magic solitude.

Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees

That palpitate like the chill seas

Around the misty Hebrides!

Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven

That rustle through the unquiet Heaven

Uneasily, from morn till even,

Over the violets there that lie

In myriad types of the human eye—

Over the lilies there that wave

And weep above a nameless grave!

They wave:—from out their fragrant tops

External dews come down in drops.

They weep:—from off their delicate stems

Perennial tears descend in gems

oh captain my captain

O Captain! My Captain!

BY WALT WHITMAN

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,

The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,

While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;

                         But O heart! heart! heart!

                            O the bleeding drops of red,

                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;

Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,

For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,

For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

                         Here Captain! dear father!

                            This arm beneath your head!

                               It is some dream that on the deck,

                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,

The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,

From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;

                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!

                            But I with mournful tread,

                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,

                                  Fallen cold and dead. this poem is timeless speaking to our leaders and their conviction to the cause to the point they are willing to die for that cause in place of te people