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.

Battle of Lorac

This is where it all started.
A 'modest' Assistant, met some Tenders in Lorac;
A squad of Niknogard were in an Ela House,
When the Wigrae started an all out attack.

The Niknogard were considerably outnumbered;
Everything, was in the favour of the Wigrae.
They had the numbers, and reinforcements.
They had planned everything for this day.

Lorac, is far from civilised Garden;
The squad were on a routine border patrol.
This battle was to be the shortest;
The squads name, to be entered into the War's Scroll.

The Wigrae had proven their point;
In this flurry, they were the largest and best.
As for now they will keep,
Whilst we lay our beloved to an unending rest.

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.

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.

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.

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.