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The following poems are randomly selected from part A 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.
Nothing's Inhabitants pt 2
I too belong to this Garden,
To even the balance of Evil and Good.
My mission, humble as it is,
Is to infiltrate the roots of all good.
The Wanderer I must avoid,
As only he can destroy me.
His vigil is second to none,
Always ready with his army.
I slipped by unnoticed by the Wanderer,
Beginning my attack underground;
Taking by surprise the succulent beauties,
Trembling at the mere mention of my heartless sound.
What's this, the table is turned,
The killer about to be killed.
No mercy to be shown.
Once again, the mission is unfulfilled.
The Preacher, is what I am known as,
Although I rarely preach of the Great One.
I am a master of arms, subtle and harrowing,
Many a bloody, tireless battle I have won.
My reputation strikes fear into the infidel,
As they know of my savage battle skill.
Occasionally I will show them some mercy;
Mercy in the sense of a swift kill.
My elders, our fathers, the Prayer,
Are even more vicious in any fight.
Their intentions are for the larger prey,
Like the Sloth flying amongst the candle light.
Yes, we live a barbarous life,
Yet at times we are a serene choir.
But a warning must be heeded;
When angered we have the rage of fire.
They came from crook and cranny,
Within and around the monstrous Two Towers.
Natas was speaking words of evil wisdom,
Upon the crowd that had gathered in the last few hours.
All forms and shapes of Assistants came to Mephisot,
Forming a large army at the base of it's walls.
They continued to flock for numerous hours,
Shouting answers in unison to Natas's war calls.
Sicta and Verda were made Bosses of the Flyers.
Gnal and Mian were made Bosses of the ground forces.
Natas started dividing both sets into two parts,
Giving each Boss their own strategic course.
Very soon the Bosses were to go on the move,
Taking their followers on a definite course of action.
Natas had all the time in the millennium,
To sit down and laugh at Kindaals reaction.
The tempest’s bright white snakes had bitten Saracere,
In turn, the Assistant’s hidden fortress was ablaze.
Who says good things don’t come from bad,
Or that nights can’t turn into days.
The blaze had destroyed the thick foliage,
That concealed Saracere’s now blackened walls.
If it wasn’t for the tempest’s violent actions,
The Eleven would not have seen the ominous Ghouls.
The Ghouls are Natas’s masters of ambush,
They are said to have come from the Ancient Lands.
Ghouls sneak up from behind their unwitting prey,
Attacking in vile and feverish bands.
Today wasn’t their day, no not at all,
They had lost their element of surprise.
The Eleven conquered Saracere in simplicity,
As the tempest had opened their blind eyes.
Written by Dincara 1985-1986 Currently being illustrated by Ettenyl Laeb
The Wanderer's Wish
If I died in your arms,
Where would you lay me?
If I needed to be helped,
Would you come and save me?
All these questions that could be asked,
The answers, I need never know.
For they are locked away,
Only you know how high the roses will grow.
The colour of our roses,
Bloom in burgundy and blue,
Thorns of hatred are blunt;
Isn't this the way we grew?
A fragrance beyond all encounters,
Deep colours like blood flow,
Into our hearts, deepening this love;
Only you know, how high the roses will grow.
In the Hierarchy of the Garden,
We the Seeb are one of the top.
Having the dual role of midwives,
Plus keeping guard on the new crop.
We work on a seasonal basis,
Whether the Traveller is here or not.
We actually assist in the fertilising,
In a carefree seasonal trot.
We are truly rewarded well,
For the special skills we use,
Either preparing the fertility ritual,
Or just giving the enemy the blues.
When the season is out,
We return home with our treasure.
The Traveller often pays a visit,
Joining in the Feast of Pleasure.