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.

Kindaal's Lure

The sole surviving Wigrae returned,
To the Descendant of the Dark's hiding place.
Although the Wigrae's life was spared,
He had endured a sadistic chase.

The torment and trauma was horrendous,
So much so that the Wigrae had begged for his death.
The Niknogard would have willing obliged,
Except that he was the only one left.

The Wigrae was directed to Natas's disfigured feet,
It is here that the Wigrae told of his ordeal.
Natas didn't pay any attention to the details;
His pride was severed and shall never heal.

Immediate actions were taken in preparation,
For a retaliatory war, not at all pure.
Natas's anger had taken control over his rationing,
Unaware that he had fallen prone to Kindaal's lure.

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.

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.

Shadow Creature

Why, does Natas always send me out here?
Nothing ever happens, nothing is ever alive.
Why, does he always send me out here?
I can't help it if I'm the only one left alive.

He has punished me enough, quite enough,
He has stripped away my great self esteem.
Now all I do, is wander this horrid Between;
Once a Wigrae, now a Shadow Creature called Zeme.

Ever since the Niknogard killed my brethren,
I've lost all strength,

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.

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.