3D Poetry

Poetry

The Garden

The following poems are randomly selected from part B 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.

Oversight

I walk a very tender and fragile edge,
I have to keep a look out all the time.
If my vigil fails, for a slender moment,
I fall into the balance of a rhyme.

If the two lines have a common rhyme,
Then I am to be given the second chance.
But woe, if those lines fall by the wayside,
I'll be thrown in front of the predator's glance.

It's hard, having so many natural enemies,
Being considered as a succulent sweet.
It is cumbersome being one of the Dihpa,
Not even protected by Summer's harsh heat.

The only protection the Master granted,
Is being so small, and our weird shape.
We are grateful, for this gift of oversight,
But we have no means of an escape.

Third Apostle's Letter

It's great to be back, amongst my finest companions. It was good to meet and converse with Nathaniel. But "there's no place like home." So the Ancient saying goes.
It seems awfully, quiet. I know, that the Ancient Lands are both hectic and fast. I also know, that I have been gone for quite a while. No thanks to the TRIPPER. But never, have I seen Garden, so, still.
Where are all my finicky friends?
Never, have they forgotten to make a fuss about my travels. They are constantly curious of the Ancient Lands.
Never, before has Garden been so, eerie.
Why does it seem so, lifeless?
Even Emalf doesn't seem to pay heed, to my persistent cries. Cries for answers.
Will someone, please inform me, of these things?


****** ******* ******* ******* *******


So. It couldn't be avoided. You did your utmost. The damage is done. There is always, hope. There is still a chance, that all is not at an end.
You say that this all happened two turnings ago. Then there's a slim chance, that there are still survivors, both Tender and Assistant.
Without having to confirm it, I would say that Natas has disappeared deep within Mephisot's Catacombs. Unable to comprehend this catastrophe. The enormity of it all. His downfall.
The Songs, they were true in what they spoke.
Come, let us search, for our fallen.


Citizen, the Traveller.

Tempest

The quietude, was far too quiet,
Not unlike the calm before the storm.
Something was wrong, horribly wrong,
They waited, to endure this unseen scorn.

All of a sudden all hell broke free,
The tempest raged with a mind of it's own.
Great old tress came crashing down around them,
They could hear others in the distance, groan.

The skies were alive with bright white snakes,
Slithering towards and striking at anything.
Seas of the sky had broken their banks,
Sending torrents down upon the Eleven's ring.

The Eleven were at the mercy of this entity,
As it's tongue lashed out continuously.
Then, as it arrived it disappeared,
Leaving it's destruction for all to see.

When

Tension is beginning to mount,
Having to wait for the inevitable;
Pressure is at a breaking point,
The Garden's fate is undecideable.

Everyone, knows that it is going to happen,
It's just that no one, knows when.
Why, is it starting over again?
The fate of now is probably then.

Minds, running uncontrollably loose;
Anxieties, pumping adrenaline at a phenomenal rate.
Heart is your mouth and so is your stomach,
Nerves unable to contemplate a changing fate.

Memories flood into your mind and soul,
Your throat swells with an emotional lump.
You become aware that you've been shaking;
Your heart no longer beats, it's a persistent thump.

Refuge (A letter from Emalf)

Well, the Eleven have broken camp, as have the force of Tender. Stroke of luck with the tempest, and Saracere. Maybe, the Only One has his hand in this after all.
Kindaal's Runner, has finally caught up with us. He tells me, of how Kindaal's force have encountered no Assistants, as of yet. Their main worry is all the swamp and marsh insects. If the Assistants don't get them, the insects will eat them alive.
Kindaal has progressed as far as the Isle of the Inner Soat. This is the first piece of dry land, that they have come across since they first entered the Marsh Lands. Surprisingly enough, the insect life is at a minimum on the Isle. Their Company, is going to set up camp, and recuperate for a couple of days.
The Runner also tells, that on his journey across the Between, there was no sign of any Assistants whatsoever. This is not hard to believe. After all, the only water is a mirage of a vast sea. The dunes, are on the move, constantly. Only the experienced, ever cross it, and a lot of them even find it quite difficult. To set up a base, is nigh on bordering the impossible.
We have given the Runner, Hasten, and ourselves refuge, within the walls of Saracere. What an evil and overpowering place. We needn't worry about any Ghouls. The Eleven eliminated the Ghouls that the tempest's fire missed.
I've asked Hasten, when he is ready, to tell Kindaal of our progress. I also took the liberty of asking Hasten to return with Kindaal's orders, as soon as possible.
As for now, we can all do with some rest. Keshna (Cogils farewell)

Emalf.

Arriving Ritual

Rexoch made a grand appearance in Ketpoc,
Arriving in a white robe upon a white Unicorn.
He rode the Ancient mythical steed like a Knight,
As he wished to be in Ketpoc before the dawn.

He prepared himself for the Bonding Ritual;
Each individual member of the Eleven was to die.
A death which cleanses both soul and mind,
Then together they are resurrected from this high.

Later that day after the Bonding Ritual,
The People of Ketpoc commenced the celebration;
Which was given for the bonded Eleven's benefit,
Commending their complete and successful transformation.

On the outside the Eleven were the same,
Appearance and their willingness to join in a fight.
But their is a difference in their once opaque eyes;
They can now speak without speaking, yes insight