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.

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.

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.

Reality

The Dihpa have scoured the countryside,
They have rewarded me, with what I want to know.
A force on the East Coast, another on the West;
Now I can get on with this, the ultimate show.

Raspitur is creating some new Shadow creatures,
But I can't wait for them to be conceived.
I have learnt from previous mistakes with Garden,
Personally a different goal will be achieved.

I've selected the best of my numerous mobs,
They will soon be on surprise attacks.
I will use them as a diversion for the others,
Whom have renamed themselves as the Maniax.

The Maniax comprise of Shadow Creatures,
All remaining Sorties, Gubs, and many more.
They, like me, bear an insatiable hunger,
For the forthcoming blood, sweat, and gore.

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.

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.

Communications

All these great forces have united themselves,
Yet they are unorganised, but ready.
The Wanderer is absent, they need a leader,
Whose nerves are rock hard and steady.

Who will lead this deserving cause?
Who will co-ordinate the battles to come?
Who can cope with the pressures?
Who is five steps ahead of everyone?

When is this person going to speak up?
Not even Rexoch can conjure up such a person.
But Rexoch will handle all communications,
He will be the aide for this person.

Wait! I hear a strangers voice calling.
You will accept, Rexoch will be pleased.
Understand communications are going to be difficult,
But at last, vengeance can finally be released.