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.

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.

Uprising

Never before has so many joined forces:
The underground Tenders, the Aerial Acrobats,
The Fey, and their Seen Brothers, old and young.
An alliance formed, with the Mythical Cats.

The Mystical Panther broke free,
His anger pointed toward the Descendant.
Then, almost out of no where, Rexoch appeared;
The great Mystic, holder of the Oracle Pendant.

All these, and ever so more,
Made alliances, pacts, and blood ties.
The atmosphere of this coming together,
United friendship shining in everyone's eyes.

The meek, rubbing shoulders with the great,
The great associating with the meek.
Rexoch struck his staff immediately lighting the sky,
Proclaiming that we will be rid of Dark's reek.

Prediction

Kindaal had guessed Natas was going to be mad,
So mad that he would release the Squadron.
Kindaal couldn't have predicted it any better,
Natas even had Raspitur slaving over his cauldron.

The idea behind Kindaal's master plan,
Was that Natas would forget about his ground force;
Relying mainly on his so called Aerialists.
Kindaal patiently waited for Natas to endorse.

The Preachers are going to remain with the Seeb,
Where they will protect Garden to the utmost.
A small force of Tender will attack Ketpoc;
Natas's main fortress which lies on the east coast.

With Ketpoc under total Tender control,
Natas's ground forces would have no base.
It wouldn't be long before they're useless to Natas;
Kindaal could then march upon Mephisot at a faster pace.

Eleven's Gathering

Tyne and Valen waited eagerly, patiently,
They could see the other nine on the rise.
Soon the Eleven were to become as one;
Wiser, stronger, bonded through spiritual ties.

There's; Ferral of the Elite, Leader of the Eleven.
Arak of the Soeh, Master at Arms.
Sil of the Abe, Collector of Long Sight.
Misty of the Cogil, Teller of the Psalms.

Then there's; Pilot of the Sky, Antis of the Elder Preacher.
First Weaver of Silk, Tash of the Nish.
Second Weaver of Silk, Job of the Inco.
Spinner of the Trap, Aaro of the Miche.

Last but not least;
Bo of the Sest, Strategist for the Eleven.
Tyne of the Esor, Master of the Underground.
Valen of the Esor, Artist of Enticement.
Hell has no fury, now that these hearts are bound.

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.