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.

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

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.

Shadow Creature

Why, does Natas always send me out here?
Nothing ever happens, nothing is ever alive.
Why, does he always send me out here?
I can't help it if I'm the only one left alive.

He has punished me enough, quite enough,
He has stripped away my great self esteem.
Now all I do, is wander this horrid Between;
Once a Wigrae, now a Shadow Creature called Zeme.

Ever since the Niknogard killed my brethren,
I've lost all strength,

Sorties

A quick brief on the rest of the Division.
There are the Feslii, Spaws, Truth Feslii.
These are the squadrons of Aerial Reconnaissance,
Who assist the Sijsad in their relentless pry.

Then there are the Fael Hoppers,
This squadron won't give up in any fight;
Where there's a will there is a way,
And by the way they pack a good bite.

The Takien are of the Minor Meek,
Small, but able to perform delicate jobs.
Most of these occupations are significant,
Disabling weak hearts leaving only their throbs.

There are others both large and small,
But they have already been broken apart;
To re-group into even more powerful sorties.
The sort of information to break the warmest heart.

Fall of Ketpoc

It wasn't long before the skies were alight,
With a spectacular display of many a dog fight.
The sky was full of flying Tender and Assistant;
So full you couldn't possibly fly a kite.

Natas swallowed the bait, hook, line, and sinker;
Unaware that the Dribydal had taken an important passage.
The armed Esors and Mystic Dragons soon followed;
Together they overpowered Ketpoc's main Sage.

This turned out to be a silent take-over,
As Kindaal had hoped it would be so.
The captured were placed in dank dungeons,
To squander time on their new found woe.

Yes Ketpoc fell upon a silent fate,
Natas is still oblivious to what has occurred.
One of his main arteries is destroyed.
Maybe he'll never know where he erred.

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.