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

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.

Refuge (A letter from Emalf)

Well, the Eleven have broken camp, as have the force of Tender. Stroke of luck with the tempest, and Saracere. Maybe, the Only One has his hand in this after all.
Kindaal's Runner, has finally caught up with us. He tells me, of how Kindaal's force have encountered no Assistants, as of yet. Their main worry is all the swamp and marsh insects. If the Assistants don't get them, the insects will eat them alive.
Kindaal has progressed as far as the Isle of the Inner Soat. This is the first piece of dry land, that they have come across since they first entered the Marsh Lands. Surprisingly enough, the insect life is at a minimum on the Isle. Their Company, is going to set up camp, and recuperate for a couple of days.
The Runner also tells, that on his journey across the Between, there was no sign of any Assistants whatsoever. This is not hard to believe. After all, the only water is a mirage of a vast sea. The dunes, are on the move, constantly. Only the experienced, ever cross it, and a lot of them even find it quite difficult. To set up a base, is nigh on bordering the impossible.
We have given the Runner, Hasten, and ourselves refuge, within the walls of Saracere. What an evil and overpowering place. We needn't worry about any Ghouls. The Eleven eliminated the Ghouls that the tempest's fire missed.
I've asked Hasten, when he is ready, to tell Kindaal of our progress. I also took the liberty of asking Hasten to return with Kindaal's orders, as soon as possible.
As for now, we can all do with some rest. Keshna (Cogils farewell)

Emalf.

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.

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.

Eleven's Gathering

Tyne and Valen waited eagerly, patiently,
They could see the other nine on the rise.
Soon the Eleven were to become as one;
Wiser, stronger, bonded through spiritual ties.

There's; Ferral of the Elite, Leader of the Eleven.
Arak of the Soeh, Master at Arms.
Sil of the Abe, Collector of Long Sight.
Misty of the Cogil, Teller of the Psalms.

Then there's; Pilot of the Sky, Antis of the Elder Preacher.
First Weaver of Silk, Tash of the Nish.
Second Weaver of Silk, Job of the Inco.
Spinner of the Trap, Aaro of the Miche.

Last but not least;
Bo of the Sest, Strategist for the Eleven.
Tyne of the Esor, Master of the Underground.
Valen of the Esor, Artist of Enticement.
Hell has no fury, now that these hearts are bound.