Archmage Inspired Poetry

[Finnius]

The battle field stretch'd out

Blood soaked in the morning

And all I could think of was the land.

I had killed my troops

my subjects

my comrades.

 

I sent them off to die on the field

For pointless land.

What does it matter who holds the ground?

Why do we fight this way?

But still, I took the land

Payed for in blood

In death

Shatter'd souls.

 

The wind blows from the east now,

Cold, chilling my bones.

I still hold the field,

I do not want it.

I do not need it.

But I will kill for it, if need be.

My friends are buried there.

 

-----------------------------

 

The field, with new growth already come,

Has turned my eyes away.

I can look and see their faces still

The bodies and souls,

Restless.

I sent them off to win my war. My men

Will never come home.

I won, but they did not.

 

The land is good, if tainted by my ambition,

It will produce farms and towns

Places of learning.

It is a gain.

 

I cannot turn back time, I can only regret

What I have done.

I have sown the seeds of war. My enemy

Will come to take his land.

I do not blame him. I would do the same.

My people will suffer, not I.

They will lose their lives.

I have lost my Soul.

 

------------------------

 

The sun rises,

Bloated and Red from the East.

They know.

What is coming is coming, the Beast.

 

Mage-fire rains down,

Drowning the land in Blood.

All is well.

They died for their own good.

 

A world is torn,

The mage's destruction complete.

And the truth is know:

Armaggedon is what you make of it.

 

---------------------------

 

More to be added, as my madness creates them.

Edited May 8, 2004 by Finnius

[Finnius]

On a lighter note...

 

The Ballad of the Kung-Fu Squirrel

 

1

'Twas many a night ago in Greywell town/

That shifty dealings did go down/

And 'though the pox was goin' 'round/

The squirrels did skip and jump./

 

I was leaving my duties at Belly Up/

And no sooner had I went to 'sup/

On some delicious butter cup/

Than a shadow did start my leg to hump!/

 

I kicked it off and started away/

But I heard a soft "No, please stay/

I'll mind myself and tell you today/

Of Kung-Fu Squirrels and sewer sumps."/

 

2

This peaked my pique, of course, you see/

And he had spoke so, merrily/

Although, I really had to pee/

I decided to hear his tail./

 

"The sun," he said "was turning red,/

And fuzzy things were full of dread/

Because St. Killum's hoary head/

Had pronounced "Death! Without fail!"/

 

This left us with with just one course,/

To strike first and without remorse/

For squirrel season was riding Death's black horse/

And weilding Killum's fuschia flail!/

 

3

So give up, man, to Kung-fu pain!"/

Wherein I kicked him in the brain,/

And dropped his body down a drain/

But that brought more and more./

 

The furry beasts in twos and threes/

Came flying softly through the trees,/

To 'venge thier comrade de-partees/

Who left this world of ours./

 

I blasted them with beams of light/

And called up wraiths to help me fight,/

But all for naught as their fierce bite/

Opened Heaven's Doors./

 

4

The Holy Being then Descended/

And to the squirrels He recommended/

To kick me where my manhood ended/

I'd never survive this./

 

But, lo!, what Darkness from within/

Did'st then my soul and heart begin,/

To fill me with a hope to win/

It was St. Killum's violent bliss!/

 

So I smashed aside my peaceful nature/

And crushed the squirrels like Schwarrzenegger,/

Within abject loath and legislature/

I killed them all with umm... you know.../

 

The End

[Finnius]

~For the Rabbits of Caerbannog~

 

The sun, he is rising on a cold winter's day;

Looking down on a field where cute animals play.

 

Stretched out in the morning of snow and fog,

An army stretches across the shining plains,

An army of sheep, squirrels, rabbits, and frogs,

Awaiting the signal, the battle refrain.

 

On the other side of the field so bright,

Demons and angels are grinding their swords,

Contingents of firey, ebon-clad knights,

Smug and calm with their victory assured.

 

But this will be no easy-bake battle,

No feasting awaits at the end of the day,

For in their last, gasping death-rattles,

The generals will hear the Unholy Host say:

 

"Oh, do not repeat the mistake that we made!

Do not underestimate the resolve of the meek!

Though they may indeed look small and afraid,

Those furries have furious, far-reaching squeaks!

 

They fought with much honor, with their backs to the wall,

For each one of 'em that fell, a dozen more sprouted,

And though they were small,

It was we who were routed!"

 

The sun, he is setting, over a bloody, white plain;

The bodies are gone, but the bunnies remain.

[The Portrait of Zool]

Good stuff!

[Knight]

Indeed! And remind me to pack my Holy Hand Grenade if I should ever go knocking on the Rabbits' doorstep(s).....

[Finnius]

(I got bored with a plain old description this reset, so I figured I'd do something enjoyable. I likes it anyway. )

 

The wind blows softly through the trees,

And carries with it new found spring,

A life begins - a shuddered sob,

A tiny, helpless, crying thing;

 

But life blooms quickly in the warm,

For every cliff there is a rope,

I face the wind and kill my fears,

While I draw breath, I hope.

Edited December 22, 2006 by Finnius