Rise Above

There she sat, in her room all alone
To afraid, to even pick up the phone
Everyone had heard, everyone knew
How she'd been hurt, all she'd been through
There she sat dormant, never wanting their pity
Amongst all her friends, was a tiny gossiping city
To one she reached out, a long lost friend
One to which her trust, had never known an end.
As they wrote back and forth, week to week, day to day
Their love for each other, they won't throw away
Though he is away, locked in a cell
Her love for him, is one all can tell
A hug and a kiss, to hold each others' hand
It's a type of intimacy, not many can understand
The story of us, a story of love
Against all odds, our love will rise above!

by Bailey Staggs

Other poems of STAGGS (14)

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[Part One] François Villon, pseudonym of François de Montcorbier or François des Loges, one of the greatest French lyric poets. He was known for his life of criminal excess, spending much time in prison or in banishment from medieval Paris.
[Part Two] Villon’s father died while he was still a child, and he was brought up by the canon Guillaume de Villon, chaplain of Saint-Benoît-le-Bétourné. the University of Paris records that Villon received the degree of bachelor and that of master.
[Part Three] On June 5,1455, a violent quarrel broke out in the cloisters of Saint-Benoît among himself, some drinking companions, and a priest, Philippe Sermoise, whom Villon killed with a sword thrust.
[Part Four] He was banished from the city but, in January 1456, won a royal pardon. Just before Christmas of the same year, however, he was implicated in a theft from the Collège de Navarre and was again obliged to leave Paris. [all parts from www.britannica.com/biography/Francois-Villon
Frères Humains (c.1462) Frères humains qui après nous vivez
 N'ayez les cœurs contre nous endurcis, 
 Car, se pitié de nous pauvres avez, 
Dieu en aura plus tost de vous merciz.
 Vous nous voyez cy attachez cinq, six
 Quant de la chair, que trop avons nourrie, 
Elle est pieça devoree et pourrie, 
 Et nous les os, devenons cendre et pouldre.
 De nostre mal personne ne s'en rie: 
 Mais priez Dieu que tous nous vueille[nt] absouldre! 

 Se frères vous clamons, pas n'en devez
 Avoir desdain, quoy que fusmes occiz
 Par justice. Toutesfois, vous savez
 Que tous hommes n'ont pas bon sens rassiz; 
 Excusez nous, puis que sommes transis, 
Envers le filz de la Vierge Marie, 
Que sa grâce ne soit pour nous tarie, 
Nous préservant de l'infernale fouldre. 
Nous sommes mors, ame ne nous harie; 
 Mais priez Dieu que tous nous vueille absouldre! 

 La pluye nous a débuez et lavez, Et le soleil desséchez et noirciz: 
 Pies, corbeaulx nous ont les yeulx cavez 
Et arraché la barbe et les sourciz.
 Jamais nul temps nous ne sommes assis; 
Puis ça, puis la, comme le vent varie, 
 A son plaisir sans cesser nous charie, 
Plus becquetez d'oiseaulx que dez à couldre.
 Ne soyez donc de nostre confrarie; 
 Mais priez Dieu que tous nous vueille[nt] absouldre! 

Prince Jhesus, qui sur tous a maistrie, 
 Garde qu'Enfer n'ait de nous seigneurie: 
A luy n'avons que faire ne que souldre. 
Hommes, icy n'a point de mocquerie; 
 Mais priez Dieu que tous nous vueille[nt] absouldre. François Villon (1431-1465?) 
(Transcription: Lagarde et Michard) Pierre Levet 1489