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.

Xenophobia

Xenophobia rages throughout the Highlands,
Much like a sinister, rabid disease.
News of the Eleven had swept like wildfire,
Scared Assistants running away upon their knees.

They would take one look at Antis,
Thinking of him as nothing but a stray.
But all of a sudden they see that Ferral,
Sil, Arak, and the rest want to play.

The Eleven play a game of odds,
They bet on the outcome of the next fight.
That is to say how many opponents run,
And how many stand up from fright.

All the wayward Assistants make for safety,
Which they think lies in the Lowlands.
They are surprisingly led to their imprisonment,
Escorted by a branch of gentle Tender hands.

V-Day

Spies have informed Kindaal of invading Wigrae;
The whole entire force of the Wigrae.
Kindaal has shown compassion in asking for the Niknogard.
It is here that together, they planned V-Day.

Vengeance Day was to go down in history:
Angel Mountain and the sun about to shine.
The Wigrae and Niknogard on opposing sides.
The Wigrae encountered the sun's rays and became blind.

Their vision was restored to meet the battle,
With this the Niknogard commenced their battle cry.
The numbers were more even in this fight,
Except that more Wigrae were going to die.

Casualties resulted, heavily on both sides,
The Wigrae's numbers deteriorated rapidly.
Their true colours started to show,
They began a retreat rather haphazardly.

Young and Old

This is the time, Natas waited so patiently for,
The concealed story in the Song, is finally told.
Although Ferral and Kindaal won't know beforehand,
They will know it's on for young and old.

Clashes, conceived from clashes.
Death, born out of the slain.
Bloods, forming into pools of lava.
Sanity, swallowed up by the insane.

The Assistants fell upon the Tenders,
Like the tempest did fall upon the Eleven.
All fallen beings, finding immortality,
In their own individual hell, or heaven.

The beast is released, in full force,
No preference, for it devours old and young.
The foretold song, of the final conflict,
In full glory, is now being sung.

Guidance (A letter from Emalf)

Hi! Doesn't look good, does it?

The Great One, has given me this bitter job. He has given it to me for one reason; that being, whatever happens to Garden, I will still be here. Maybe, just maybe, you'll protect me from the loneliness. The job, as much as I don't want it, is to inform you of the matters at hand. No offence, it's not you, it's the events that I have been told about. They have already commenced.

I've been introduced before. Now it's time to get to know each other a bit better. I'm Emalf, and you are . . . Come on, don't be shy, after all, we may be the only two left. I'd prefer to be friends, instead of two beings, who won't communicate.

There might still be time. I've contacted the Wanderer. He's received the message, but, well, you don't want to know. Well! Whilst staying with his ancestor, his TRIPPER was stolen. Thieves were everywhere in the Ancient days. I did warn him about that.

The Great One, has chosen you, to protect his favourite realm. I have faith in all of His decisions, and in you.

For now, I'll let you think. Guard Garden to the best of your ability. If you ever need guidance and moral support, just look up. You'll find me. I'm always here.

Emalf.

Quietude

The Eleven broke camp, all was quiet.
The stillness matched it's brother, the dark.
Eerie, but the Eleven enjoyed their rest,
That was until Zech, the Zealot, decided to park.

A Zealot, is an Assistant with a bad reputation,
They persistently squawk about Natas's wisdom.
This Zealot, Zech, has got a big problem,
He is about six castles short of a small kingdom.

Zech sat by the Eleven's warming fire,
Doing nothing but talk, talk, talk.
It wasn't until he noticed Misty,
That he knew he had ended his casual walk.

It was good to know that he still talked,
He will keep the guards at Ketpoc amused.
Ketpoc is forever increasing in the number of captives;
But they are kept well, never mistreated or abused.

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.