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.

He Calls Me Sloth

The Master, he calls me Sloth,
He, he and everyone thinks that I'm dumb.
That is not at all true, it's a lie,
I'm intelligent, and what's more, I'm handsome.

The Master is very mean to me,
I mean to say, I am quite hairy;
Plus there is the advantage of not being legless.
But what he does to me is scary.

He tells me that I need a rest,
That I should cut down on a few things.
Anyway, I get myself a silk blanket,
An when I wake up, he's gone and given me wings.

My body needs the warmth of light;
The Master plays more tricks than anyone.
While I'm not looking, in the right direction,
He makes the warm light, as hot as the sun.

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.

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.

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.

Humour

Misty rides upon Antis's great shoulders,
Who hovers above his brothers formation.
She keeps him intrigued and amused,
With witty, old, needless information.

Ferral is at the point of the arrow head,
Sussing out anything that looks suspicious.
Sil is on his left, Arak is on his right,
Both imagine that anything that is edible, is delicious.

Surviving on the land that surrounds them,
The Eleven make fast progress towards the ranges.
From the arid ranges onto the Highlands,
Where the vegetation and terrain rapidly changes.

It is here that Tash and Job do what's best;
Weaving silk into long lengths of rope.
Misty and Antis have a good old laugh,
While they watch the others climb and grope.

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.