A Moment Unto Execution — Lunatic’s Poems’

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1609

Abstract

A beaming realm of over-confidence May allot itself once my passing has come to be By our Almighty, I have become to be — Or: I Became to have Been.</p><p id="7c91">They have ended that Happy Life; whilst it was strumming to be. I ended my own happy game by gaining against that ill state.</p><p id="e1a5">So I to be; I know, I know. That peaceful reign now, without mother; before father. A God’s spear into Munich now; Pity I suppose. Toiling the bells, for you and for me now.</p><p id="4277">Caress that memory for me; Father, and you Fritz. In my heart, I remain that tact against their shields; Ever to be, I care for that memory to remain. I go now, my heart flounders not at the thought, Yet my fear and concern belong all to you now, My dear kin. My family. My Fritz.</p><h2 id="a4d7">Afterword:</h2><p id="3b96">Might I ask the reader to spare a fleeting moment in the memory and hope they afford to anyone under such utter oppression? Let them not be forgotten, not utterly; peruse them in your local bookstore or on your electronic mart for books concerning them, in fact, I have one piece to recommend: The Letters and Diaries of Sophie and Hans, curated in this piece: <b>At the Heart of the White Rose — Edited by Inge Jens</b></p><div id="41c6" class="link-block"> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/270285.At_the_Heart_of_the_White_Rose"> <div> <div> <h2>Goodreads</h2> <div><h3>Discover and share books you love on Goodreads.</h3></div> <div><p>www.goodreads.com</p></div> </div

Options

          <div>

            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*qkb2GAkOLo2CauNf)"></div>
          </div>
        </div>
      </a>
    </div><h2 id="aa08">Marches Of Gold; Our Publication:</h2><div id="5da8" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://medium.com/marches-of-gold">
        <div>
          <div>
            <h2>Marches Of Gold</h2>
            <div><h3>Might I entice and welcome one to a precious center of adoration for Words; A Publication; A Curation — May the…</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
          </div>
          <div>
            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*Phgf9mJLiS4BMB62wWTYOg.jpeg)"></div>
          </div>
        </div>
      </a>
    </div><h2 id="695b">Come To Medium:</h2><div id="e468" class="link-block">
      <a href="https://medium.com/@joanieadamms/membership">
        <div>
          <div>
            <h2>Join Medium with my referral link - Joanie Adams</h2>
            <div><h3>As a Medium member, a portion of your membership fee goes to writers you read, and you get full access to every story…</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
          </div>
          <div>
            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*J2BxYM81Mf_xshF-)"></div>
          </div>
        </div>
      </a>
    </div><p id="3090">As ever, Dear Reader</p></article></body>

“I am that penetrating girl to the Rapture’s system; I am, Sophie Magdalena Scholl”

White Rose — To You Sophie; These Bells Are Ringing Evermore.

I am that penetrating girl to the Rapture’s system; I being that mode of expression: I am, Sophie Magdalena Scholl.

Now — just now, the Council has forfeited my Head; Divorcing it from my then-to-be slumped Bode; And the Neck then to remain open red — gushing like a Candian McIntosh.

Open and raw, I let their State reel, Yet to what affords?

They have not been slewed by our oft-had arms By pen or march; Nor by their failing Panzers upon the Russian fields.

Yet to what affords? I remain envious to know — sadly, I cannot now.

It is no surprise I suppose, for one to clamber against the ladders Of a state most foil; wherein all rungs have been knocked ever so slightly By Himmler and all his perverts — and not be forfeited. I say with an act of subterfuge, for I am to die today.

Babes part now, as I, their Sister, to be their married chance.

Ever so slightly I snigger at the excuse they gave as orders over The death of the Iron-hearted Man’s execution.

It shall wear itself to be now; A death I have accepted… A beaming realm of over-confidence May allot itself once my passing has come to be By our Almighty, I have become to be — Or: I Became to have Been.

They have ended that Happy Life; whilst it was strumming to be. I ended my own happy game by gaining against that ill state.

So I to be; I know, I know. That peaceful reign now, without mother; before father. A God’s spear into Munich now; Pity I suppose. Toiling the bells, for you and for me now.

Caress that memory for me; Father, and you Fritz. In my heart, I remain that tact against their shields; Ever to be, I care for that memory to remain. I go now, my heart flounders not at the thought, Yet my fear and concern belong all to you now, My dear kin. My family. My Fritz.

Afterword:

Might I ask the reader to spare a fleeting moment in the memory and hope they afford to anyone under such utter oppression? Let them not be forgotten, not utterly; peruse them in your local bookstore or on your electronic mart for books concerning them, in fact, I have one piece to recommend: The Letters and Diaries of Sophie and Hans, curated in this piece: At the Heart of the White Rose — Edited by Inge Jens