Songs for Dreams of Peace and Other Poems

By Beedo

Song for Dreams of Peace

To serene wives of active care, 
Who know not what to dream: 
Lend me tears of unspent fair, 
For lonesome droughts my 
beam. Unkindly fate once did 
pretend 
To give to me a love and friend; 
To this, we fill the night with mourning song! 

'Cross seas he flies from happy life 
To heaviest of chore, 
Yet 'fore he left he made me wife 
So none could me adore. 
Counting days and weeks gone 
by, I frown at how the months do 
fly: 
No haste, it seems, brings he to smiling port. 

Often nights I find his sweetly 
Blushing eyes on mine; 
Rushing joyous I entreat he 
With arms that long to twine. 
Reaching this, my dream is shattered; O, 
but hope does leave one tattered! Now joy 
is sore? This I must to God implore! 

While other lovers enjoy the night 
In passioned company, 
I stand, soak-eyed, and mourn my plight
 And call on him to me. 
To stand and watch is my sole joy, Yet 
with my heart the moon does toy; A 
wretch my love shall find upon return?! 

When skies do roil and spit and spite, 
Portentous by design, 
I find I can't, by my minds right, 
My only hope resign. 
I wish to scream, "be soaked you fool!", 
But words to mind don't owe their rule; 
So, I pitied sigh, "why did he go?" 

And when skies ease to clouds that soar 
With whitest countenance, 
So one would think: like, ease my sore. 
I lack, then, pertinence, 
For heavy hangs my sigh with doubt, 
And nothing could my fears then rout; 
So ends this song in cry: "alas, I know." 

A Plea for Sugared Coffee

The softened scratch of styled strokes 
Plays always in my dreams, 
But not without the percol'ed plops 
Of coffee as it steams.
 
Darkest aid can yet conceal 
The tickle of my need to rest. 
Always acrid on writer's desk 
So I may always write my best.

Laurels for the Victor

Beauteous flower, lily-white innocence, 
Who yearns so, after petals yet unmolted? 
A gilded lyre, whose harsh-seeping 
Heart wound meets leaded indifference. 

Most graceful huntress, rosy-lipped celibate, Where has 
fled your sun-warmed, sweet smiling aspect? To most 
cruel reversal. He's too swift, 
Yet peace finds Father's barked mercy cry.
 
Long-standing virtue, evergreen abstinence, 
How have you come to this ghostly gray? 
Through peace lost. Hosts of men came to me, 
Plucking my innocence for victors. 

Beedo is a new poet looking to share their love of the world. They have a keen interest in the outdoors and often writes their poetry while backpacking. They believe that all poetry deserves careful consideration, and they strive to make even their simplest poems have multiple interpretive meanings.