Post by myloayjack on Dec 20, 2013 20:57:57 GMT
I'm new to this whole forum thing...kinda old school--like pen and paper old school... So, if this doesn't go here, somebody just yell at me, and I'll take it down... Thanks!
This is one of my older poems. I don't do poetry much, to be honest. Long fiction is my passion. But, for the sake of sharing, here it is--old poem number one.
I stood upon that wailing shore
as the wind came screaming from the sea.
No one saw the ammiral banner on the waves,
'twas no one there but me.
The marl beneath my feet
was naught but sand
and 'twas a mortal adamantine blade
in my blood stained hand.
I looked upon the ruin of my domain
and was lost in utter despair,
praying for the life of my lover
who wore the long black hair.
For marching o'er that precious grunsel,
most horrid of creatures, was that embodied force
led by an abject and grievous brute
atop a bestial horse.
Cursed was that lifeless thing at my feet,
shunned and depraved by the light,
adverse and afflicted, night-dounder'd
and its powers would crush my kingdom with injurious might.
Those pernicious, baleful creatures,
so like trivial Leviathans rose,
and I lifted Niflheim against their shields,
tearing from them their doomed souls.
Promiscuous cries of battle tore at my ears
deafening me to all but the war-drum of my heart's beat,
as my enemies piled 'round my feet.
No prisoners would defile my dungeon,
and 'twas doubted one would live to tell,
of that sword of ethereal temper,
that would keep the gates of Hell.
This is one of my older poems. I don't do poetry much, to be honest. Long fiction is my passion. But, for the sake of sharing, here it is--old poem number one.
Niflheim
I stood upon that wailing shore
as the wind came screaming from the sea.
No one saw the ammiral banner on the waves,
'twas no one there but me.
The marl beneath my feet
was naught but sand
and 'twas a mortal adamantine blade
in my blood stained hand.
I looked upon the ruin of my domain
and was lost in utter despair,
praying for the life of my lover
who wore the long black hair.
For marching o'er that precious grunsel,
most horrid of creatures, was that embodied force
led by an abject and grievous brute
atop a bestial horse.
Cursed was that lifeless thing at my feet,
shunned and depraved by the light,
adverse and afflicted, night-dounder'd
and its powers would crush my kingdom with injurious might.
Those pernicious, baleful creatures,
so like trivial Leviathans rose,
and I lifted Niflheim against their shields,
tearing from them their doomed souls.
Promiscuous cries of battle tore at my ears
deafening me to all but the war-drum of my heart's beat,
as my enemies piled 'round my feet.
No prisoners would defile my dungeon,
and 'twas doubted one would live to tell,
of that sword of ethereal temper,
that would keep the gates of Hell.