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.

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.

Arriving Ritual

Rexoch made a grand appearance in Ketpoc,
Arriving in a white robe upon a white Unicorn.
He rode the Ancient mythical steed like a Knight,
As he wished to be in Ketpoc before the dawn.

He prepared himself for the Bonding Ritual;
Each individual member of the Eleven was to die.
A death which cleanses both soul and mind,
Then together they are resurrected from this high.

Later that day after the Bonding Ritual,
The People of Ketpoc commenced the celebration;
Which was given for the bonded Eleven's benefit,
Commending their complete and successful transformation.

On the outside the Eleven were the same,
Appearance and their willingness to join in a fight.
But their is a difference in their once opaque eyes;
They can now speak without speaking, yes insight

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.

Bull Horn

The Niknogard charged at double time,
Forming the famous formation, the Bull Horn.
The Wigrae became aware of their pursuit,
Thus they planned a counter attack on the second dawn.

The Bull Horn formation is designed well;
Consisting of two major flanks and a front.
When the front encounters the enemy,
The flanks then fold, creating a massive stunt.

The enemy is surrounded by the Bull Horn,
They are at the mercy of their captors.
There is no escape from this deadly weapon,
The captured therefore have to endure their foes rapture.

So it happened to the Wigrae's main force,
Surrounded, from then on they were all killed.
That is except one, who was released,
To inform his master, who won't be thrilled.

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.

Brothers of Gub

I am a member, of the Brothers of Gub.
I, myself am a member of the lower order,
Being just a normal, humble Surtic;
Not even recognised as being a marauder.

One day, I'm going to be something;
Maybe even a Quinharle, or even a Faelminer.
I may even end up being , an Ecal Gub;
That promotion is a raise, that couldn't be finer.

They get the best jobs, and rewards.
Imagine, never again, being placed in the line;
The line of death, the confrontation of good.
Instead of drinking Emils, able to drink wine.

If only he would let me go,
Let me become one of my brothers,
Then, and only then will I sublet,
And show some respect, to the others.