OTMA Poetry part 2

[Romanov_History_Buff]

So I was going to post this in the Poems for OTMAA but it said nobody had posted in a 120 days so a new thread shall be made! I also wrote a little play and have made tons of collages but I'm not quite sure where to put the collages though my guess is that i can put the play in one of the fanfic threads or post a new thread with the name of it... idk  !

Okay anyhow, i made one for OTMA all together, then one for each individually so here goes nothing (by the way the OTMA poem goes with the play)!

Four Sisters
Four Sisters together, never apart
Each had a role a part to play
However in the end they couldn't stay
The Big Pair
The Little Pair
Each worked whenever they had time to spare
Each had their own identity
Each a unique personality
Together they were OTMA
Olga and Tatiana, Maria and Anastasia
And now my poem is done
-I'm thinking of getting word of that last part about the poem being done-

The Poet
The eldest, always honest
A bookworm always reading
A poet completely inspiring
She has had to endure much
But she still has a gentle touch
Though moody and easily crossed
She'll give the honest truth no matter the cost
Independent and strong
With her there's no way you could go wrong

The Governess
Considered the beauty out of all four
Always willing to do any chore
Making sure things get done
But open to any kind of fun
Always able to put at ease
And ready to please
Practical yet fair
It's almost as if she's walking on air
-I had to find something to rhyme with fair and air is pretty much what i got-

Mashka
Angelic blue eyes, always a smile
She knows how to make peace in style
Not one for yelling
Nor one for complaining
Bold and easy to talk to
That is why we love Mashka through and though
-I really am not quite sure i like that last sentence but it's what popped in my head while writing it-

and lastly but definitely not least...

Anastasia's Her Name
Jokes are fun at any cost
Not one easily crossed
Attention always sought out
You can always catch her about
Pranks are her game
Because Anastasia is her name

That's it folks... and if you count the lines you'll notice the Big Pair both have 9 and the Little Pair have 6 i laughed about that when i counted them the first time!

Enjoy!

[Grand Duchess Jennifer]

Very good! I like the Anastasia one especially!

[blessOTMA]

Nicholaievna

In a book store
during Russian music
among the cook books
I wept for the daughters of the Tsar

Non-cerebral pathos will ambush
and tears fall upon cat and dog heavan

Nicholaievna

the name came to me

steeped in Ural mud
even their howling was
denied them

It rises from my throat now
with an inextricable tenderness

Silent Nicholaievna

my memento resonates the
repatriation of pain to breast bone

[Romanov_History_Buff]

Nicholaievna

In a book store
during Russian music
among the cook books
I wept for the daughters of the Tsar

Non-cerebral pathos will ambush
and tears fall upon cat and dog heavan

Nicholaievna

the name came to me

steeped in Ural mud
even their howling was
denied them

It rises from my throat now
with an inextricable tenderness

Silent Nicholaievna

my memento resonates the
repatriation of pain to breast bone

I like it!

[blessOTMA]

 Thanks, RomanovHistoryBuff, I like yours as well. I hope others post thiers too!

[I am_Tatianochka]

About Olga and Tatiana:

Woods of Heaven

-Speak to me, softly, till your words run dry,
-Now not a soul I can’t see, yours has faded, Oh Long ago again! It has faded...
-The wind, it bends and twists, my forgotten, Oh my withering soul!
-And the Lord he has set me free on the streets of Heaven.
-Oh, misery shall not come! No! I shall find you unto the twisting woods of Heaven, where by God’s own hand he shall lead me as I run.

[Anastasia Spalko]

I wrote this one almost two years ago and just remembered it:
 
Yesteryear, yesteryear
Eleven people died
Eleven people whom to each were very, truly dear.
Four drops, for the loyal,
Following to their graves,
Five drops for the little ones bound by blood,
Killed by the knaves,
One drop more, for the passionate lover;
She never was untrue,
And one drop more, for the weak yet so devoted
He seems all to blame, his debt long overdue.
But now, it seems, the debt is payed,
In blood and death and horror.
Their bodies are long decomposed,
He's with his true adorer.
But who deserves this type of fate?
They often ask,"Why me?"
No one knows, and so few care.
Why was it them that had to die in this tragedy?
 

It's not my best poem in the world, but oh well.

[Romanov_History_Buff]

I wrote this one almost two years ago and just remembered it:
 
Yesteryear, yesteryear
Eleven people died
Eleven people whom to each were very, truly dear.
Four drops, for the loyal,
Following to their graves,
Five drops for the little ones bound by blood,
Killed by the knaves,
One drop more, for the passionate lover;
She never was untrue,
And one drop more, for the weak yet so devoted
He seems all to blame, his debt long overdue.
But now, it seems, the debt is payed,
In blood and death and horror.
Their bodies are long decomposed,
He's with his true adorer.
But who deserves this type of fate?
They often ask,"Why me?"
No one knows, and so few care.
Why was it them that had to die in this tragedy?
 

It's not my best poem in the world, but oh well.

I like it and it's very true!   

[Anastasia Spalko]

Aw, thanks! 

I think the reason my best friend got put into a poetry writing competition and I didn't is because these are the only things I can write about: Romanovs, Romanovs, NAOTMAA, Romanovs, Hapsburgs, Romanovs, Nicholas and Alexandra, Romanovs, my boyfriend who looks like Alexei, Romanovs....

And don't think I'm crazy when I say most people think that 99% of my poems sound like they were written for my boyfriend, but they're  actually written about the Romanovs.

[Romanov_History_Buff]

nope not crazy at all... any more?

[Anastasia Spalko]

I have them scattered, but I'll find them.  I wrote this one when I was feeling torn between the Romanovs and Hapsburgs:

In my mind, two empress play
A barbaric game of tug-of-war.
Their familes watch and cheer them on
While they pull, both much too strong.
And in the middle, there is me,
Begging for mercy and crying in pain.

My heart is too fragile,
It can't handle this.
Neither one could stitch it up
If it were to rip.
These eyes have seen
Much better days.
Once clear and dry,
Now fogged with tears.

If I were to run
And leave them behind,
Where would I go?
Just where would I go?
But it's not up to me.
They're holding me tight
And refuse to let go.

I twist and turn,
Try to shake one off,
Maybe both if I can.
But I'm locked away,
Fought over like a doll
If I could just say one thing,
I would probably just scream
'Get out of my mind,
Don't do this to me!"
How do I defeat them?
I love them too much.
How do you abandon something
That's a large part of you?

I near a fork in the road.
Something's behind me.
A thing called time.
It's scorching my flesh
And stabbing my back.
It wants me to go one way or another,
It doesn't care which.
Should I go left,
Or possibly right?
Or do I just leave it
And find a new trail?

Can you believe the only other person who's read this is my English teacher?  I was too embarrassed to show it to any non-history buffs, including my mother.

[abbigail]

Nicholaievna

In a book store
during Russian music
among the cook books
I wept for the daughters of the Tsar

Non-cerebral pathos will ambush
and tears fall upon cat and dog heavan

Nicholaievna

the name came to me

steeped in Ural mud
even their howling was
denied them

It rises from my throat now
with an inextricable tenderness

Silent Nicholaievna

my memento resonates the
repatriation of pain to breast bone

I just LOVE that, blessOTMA! It's so wonderfully written!
And Ekaterina, I love your poems too! They're all very descriptive and vivid.
Romanov History Buff, yours are so good. I really like the Anastasia one.

[abbigail]

Sorry for double-posting, but here's another poem...I did NOT write this, it is my sister's. I'm trying to get her to register on here.

Czar
Through this sanctuary of mauve
This was not their final place, we know.
Miles from here, with heaviness thay left.
Everything left alone, stripped of its importance
no longer the stuff of royalty, but only things
left to gather dust in the end.
Before then, there was more
and the jewels had a sparkle,
and the silk had a wave.
Every morning, every night
it was the same, the same for the children,
pure for all their spoil.
The gentleness of each day, each learning
every picture, every step upon the floor.
Cries of annoyance, of jubilance, of surprise
and all that is unaccounted for,
that let us know how very common
they all were. Everything can't be saved
and everything can't be lost.
Who is left to remember?
We can know the facts, but what we can't know
are the things that made it all real--
the only things that will tell
more than study, more than time,
are gone, much as those that are gone with them.
The mauve sanctuary was not
their final place--their final place
was of stone, unadorned and small,
not what they deserved, for they deserved none of this.
On the morning when they awoke it was the same,
but it's not gone--only lost, never found.
by Silvana, my dear twin sister

[Romanov_History_Buff]

ABSOLUTELY love it! Your sister did an amazing job!

[Anastasia Spalko]

Most of my "sisters" (really close bffls that I've known most of my life) are writers, but they can't write that well.  I don't know what to say, so I'm just gonna stick with "dang, she's good!"