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Poetry

The Garden

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.

Foreword (The Garden)

Garden is a small shire, within the boundaries of the sinister Nothing. The people, both animated and mortal, keep their shire clean and beautiful. They also protect their shire from natural foes. Life is usually calm and tranquil in this serene shire, known as Garden.

Nothing's infamous tyrant, Natas, wants most, if not all, of Nothing under his total control. He usually leaves Garden alone. That is until he gets bored with his demonic means of entertainment.

The actual land mass, Nothing, is surrounded by a shallow void; namely "Nothing's Void". To the northern tip of Nothing, across it's Void, lies the Ancient Lands. It was there, were the Ancients would wander (and wonder) about. I say used to; as they were all wiped out by an unpleasant plague. The inhabitants of Nothing, were protected from this horrid plague by the sheer vastness of Nothing's Void.

In the following poems and letters, you will have the opportunity of getting to know most of the Inhabitants; most, not all. You will meet the Wanderer, who with the use of his TRIPPER (Time Rectifier in Parallel Places, Envelope Runner), visits the Ancients.

A fact, which you might find startling, is that Garden, Nothing, and their inhabitants actually exist. There is a piece of the Wanderer, in all of us. What's more, Nothing and Garden aren't that far away. Everything has it's good with it's bad.

Everywhere you look, there is a fragment of Nothing in what you see.

Evil Wisdom

They came from crook and cranny,
Within and around the monstrous Two Towers.
Natas was speaking words of evil wisdom,
Upon the crowd that had gathered in the last few hours.

All forms and shapes of Assistants came to Mephisot,
Forming a large army at the base of it's walls.
They continued to flock for numerous hours,
Shouting answers in unison to Natas's war calls.

Sicta and Verda were made Bosses of the Flyers.
Gnal and Mian were made Bosses of the ground forces.
Natas started dividing both sets into two parts,
Giving each Boss their own strategic course.

Very soon the Bosses were to go on the move,
Taking their followers on a definite course of action.
Natas had all the time in the millennium,
To sit down and laugh at Kindaals reaction.

A Proud Tender

In ancient times, they had there oddities,
Just as we have them with us now.
Their descendants changed in shapes and sizes,
The farmer forced to put away his plough.

I, am a proud descendant of the Emu,
A proud bird, who roamed the Ancient Lands.
The traits, of no flight remained though,
Imagine a Dragon, stuck fast on Garden's sands.

We did develop larger wings to compensate,
However, our huge bodies are too heavy.
But, this is only a physical restraint;
As the Great One, gave us the gift of Levee.

We are true dragons in all aspects,
Mystics in soul, in body we are Tenders.
We hardly ever, leave the borders of the Levee,
In the same way as the Ancient Pretenders.

Discovery and Denial

"Well, well, well. What have we here? Zeme has finally gone and done something right. Hard to believe, isn't it Zeme?"
Zeme remained deafly quiet, with the still unconscious Hasten at his feet.
"What's the matter, Zeme! Devil gone and got your tongue?" Natas broke into a sadistic laugh. "Oh well, Zeme! I have plans for you. On your way back to the Between, drop in and see Raspitur."
Unbeknownst to Zeme, Raspitur has created a female Wigrae. Zeme was destined to go back to the Between, as a breeder.
"Before you go, Zeme; wake this Runner."
Zeme unlocked Hasten's legs, which relieved the pain in Hasten's mind. Hasten slowly came out of his drifting blackness.
"So, the swift little boy wakes. Nice to see, that you dropped in. Hmnn, what have you got to tell me little one?"
Hasten, still didn't know what had happened. Why it happened. Where he was. And, who this vile half person is. Then all of a sudden, it dawned upon him. He was within the walls of Mephisot.
"Come on little man. Tell me what's going on."
All Hasten remembered, was the Three Ancient Monkeys; Hear No, See No, Speak No Evil.
"Listen! Young fool. Something is happening, otherwise you wouldn't be walking all over my, MY Between!!!"
Hasten had consciously decided, to become all of the Ancient Monkeys.
"I can see, that I'm going to get absolutely nothing, out of you. But this much I do know; something is alive south of Mephisot."
"As for you, fool, say good-bye to your beloved Garden."
Hasten was placed in the Catacombs of Mephisot. An underground maze of dungeons. They say, that the only escape from the Catacombs is death. Even then, your spirit may well be still entombed.
Natas has set about getting information on what is stirring in other parts of Nothing.

West Coast ( Kindaal's Thoughts )

Where's the Runner, he's been gone too long?
I sent him out to report on how Ferral is going.
Then again, he may be on his way now.
One thing is for sure, my temper is growing.

My patience was at it's tethers end,
So I sent out another Runner on the third day.
The second Runner was only gone for the night,
When he came back, this was all he could say.

"I looked all over the Between Kindaal,
To see nothing, except it's heat haze.
I climbed the Highlands, to see a disturbance,
It looked like the Two Towers were ablaze."

It seems to me that Ferral has progressed well,
Better than I had possibly thought.
Well, time to make a move forwards,
To help Ferral on his fantastic haunt.

The Preacher

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.