Majorl's poems

[Majorl Maus]

Redwall, dear sweet Redwall.
Jump into the feast after all, it's the season to celebrate.
A huried dash, into the dainties, with a clash to taint the ease.
Finding yourself filled to such, having little tasted.
Blinding the moment still having much wasted.
Leaving a longing for more but having too long to wait.

*Majorl's tale of seasonal gratitude.*

The colors of the season.
And the time to take your ease, in the white of the dearth.
Reds, greens, and shiny other things, that brings joy for future mourn.
Under the timber, lies a smorgasbord to remember soon buried in the earth.
A host of choices to end in a nostalgic forlorn.

At the most four of the fifty two.
Still the ghosts drift on through, to commence their daily haunting.
Unless summoned at the table, a guest you'll find unable to evict.
Casting shadows of various grade, too heavy to fade, for some to carve and some to taunting.
Having the time to reflect be to convict.

As some stones are to be gathered.
Others need be scattered, out of sight and out of mind.
Lest meld in the bowels a curse full, of putrefaction in the oubliette of universal oblivion.
To lie dead, forgotten under a decaying bed or deposited and left behind.
Such will be thought of in the world you are living in.

As gold and silver.
Can coexist in one yet won't kill her, the so-called seasonal spirit.
Yet red and green, to make the holiday serene would only be found.
As the colors of dead needles, in piles of dead deeds full of rear deposits.
And as the color of dung upon the ground.

Tis better a morsel of bread in a quiet corner.
Than a banquet of even one scoffer and scorner, rather put the jeweled ring on the roast.
Having everything as it's meant to be, ornamenting the tree, decking the halls.
Yet the mind lays the axe, and as temperaments swing sides gather hurling attacks and boasts.
Better the tree as ember than watch as everything falls.

Remove thy foot from the festivities.
For a calm rest from the seize, of the atmosphere of excited gaiety.
To renew your strength, for the length remaining, to retire in peace.
Yet you find time, to climb into a restless, disquieted, array -such a pity.
They will seek it again while longing for it to cease.