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.

Meek of the Squadron

Welcome to the Divisional Aerial Field;
There are so many squadrons to see and greet.
They range from the Sloths to the Sijsads;
We, being the latter are the Assistants meek.

Most of the flying Assistants join forces,
Attacking in the same manner of fashion.
The way we attack is to remove the life force,
This is completed in a frenzied violent passion.

We the Sijsad consist mainly of infiltrates,
Performing in the art of the gracious spy.
We find the weaknesses and or strong points,
Finding out who can or can't fly.

It doesn't always work the way we would like;
The Tenders aren't partial to bribes,
Not through lack of trying to convince;
Tenders pick up all evil nasty vibes.

Welcome to the Laboratory

Welcome to the laboratory of Raspitur,
Alchemist of the infamous Dark Master.
I create all the wonderful potions,
Either destroying growth or making faster.

Creator of all diseases and all vermin,
No job is too big nor is it too small.
All concoctions are to be used with care,
Caring to see who's going to fall.

Wherever I wander in this world,
I leave behind a unique trademark.
It's oddity lies in it's devastation,
Left outside the Garden's outer arc.

Well that's all from me anyway.
You will get to know the rest.
The Master has instructed me,
To send you back to wherever is best.

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.

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.

Modesty

The ominous ground dragon, Wigrae;
Evil, psychic twin of the inferior Niknogard,
Do present myself for you to study, and compare.
A prerequisite, I wish for "no holds barred."

I am larger in size, both physical and mental,
The Niknogard doesn't even come close to me.
I am more ferocious and volatile,
All they can do is fall over and flee.

Yes, I am the largest and the best.
Yes, I am a humble, modest creature.
Put us together in a grand battle,
I'll come out as the best feature.

Oh, what a modest beauty I am,
You can't compare me to anyone.
Come, dance and dine with me,
Join in my great pleasant fun.

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.