A collection of 3D Poetry's favourite images that they have created. Some of the wallpapers are pre HD, and others created for mobile phones.
My Lady Queen Aethel 1st
Snow Assassin (Aethel)
Gotch Ya Again
On Top of it All
RavenCrow Desktop WIP
MockingJay Fire and Ice
Where is the Magic
Fire and Ice
Cast a Spell
The following poems are randomly selected from part A of the Garden series.
If you are patient, the whole story may appear. There is a doorway on this site, that will open to the poetry collection, both in context and complexity.
Lying still, in a centre of silk,
Silk which has been spun with great care.
A millennium old tradition of craftsmanship,
Captures the Two Eyes, of the Fair.
A silk that can be woven,
A Fair woman's fine flowing dress,
Or used in high emotional states;
Where as it would be used to relieve stress.
The Dincara weave this silk,
Into incredible skyscapes of cumulus clouds,
Capturing the invaders insatiable curiosity;
Imprisoning their thoughts and souls, so proud.
The masters of Sight, are the Dincara,
The professors of sculpture and creation.
They are different in sizes and shapes,
Surpassed only by their shades of creations.
First Apostle's Letter
Once again, the Traveller sets out on his endeavours. Tripping back in time, to walk amongst his ancestors; the Ancient Ones.
As he has done thousands of times before, the Traveller leaves Garden under the Tenders control. The Tenders are the Travellers companions, when he is in Garden; Garden's armed force and doctorate when he is not.
Although the Traveller only Trips for a short period of time, he is sometimes away for ages. Thus, the infidels, invaders, and plain old foe of nature are tempted to enter Garden's domain.
Inevitably, these unwanted beings infiltrate Garden's boundaries. Havoc breaks free. War finally erupts. Battles, both great and small, are fought with ferocious fury.
But never fear, all will be restored. The dead will live through their young. The conceived will be born. The invaders will be banished.
Yes, the balance of life will be returned.
How do I, know of all of this, you ask?
Is it not obvious that I am he? The God of gods Apostle. The Wanderer. Yes, I am he. The Traveller
The Preacher, is what I am known as,
Although I rarely preach of the Great One.
I am a master of arms, subtle and harrowing,
Many a bloody, tireless battle I have won.
My reputation strikes fear into the infidel,
As they know of my savage battle skill.
Occasionally I will show them some mercy;
Mercy in the sense of a swift kill.
My elders, our fathers, the Prayer,
Are even more vicious in any fight.
Their intentions are for the larger prey,
Like the Sloth flying amongst the candle light.
Yes, we live a barbarous life,
Yet at times we are a serene choir.
But a warning must be heeded;
When angered we have the rage of fire.
Nothing's Inhabitants pt 1
Here I stand in a garden,
Looking over a vastness of Nothing.
My friends stand close by,
Searching it's horizons for something.
We enjoy our own company,
As we know each other well.
Our domain is rarely challenged,
Excepting for the occasional cell.
Seasons change in favour for the foes,
Who march on Nothing's void.
Increasingly closer these villains approach,
Taking our sustenance into the void.
My friends shout, a shout of defiance,
Informing me of our Wandering Friend,
He visits on a weekly basis,
Delivering a blow to our foe's evil trend.
Nothing's Inhabitants pt 3
I have travelled beyond the Garden,
Beyond Nothing's shallow void;
Encountering foes beyond reckoning,
Of whom I have battled and destroyed.
The awe of my universe,
Stretches the limit of many a mind.
The splendour of it's magical beauty,
The wars and hatred of it's kind.
Of this Universe no place is better,
Than in the Garden with my friends.
They're unique, in colour and creed,
Personalities created in different blends.
I befriended, care, and protect,
These creatures of the Garden,
I hope, that you too,
Befriend your creatures, of the Garden.
We are the "All Ferocious of the Fierce,"
Warmongers, strategists, destroyers of evil.
Known only as the Niknogard,
Seen only in the guise of a humble weevil.
The Dihpa are seen as a succulent dessert,
Believe you me, we all have a sweet tooth.
Our motto, for the Royal Tenders Guard,
Is, "Destroy all evil, uphold honour and truth."
To hear the battle cry of the Niknogard,
Will deliver a blow to the heart;
To the good, 'tis the blow of uplifting;
To evil, 'tis the sound of Death's Cart.
"Destroy all evil, uphold honour and truth,
Sever the roots, burn it's liars,
Uproot all evil, and as for proof,
We will behead, Nothing's Squires."