Xaious, Master of Time Posted October 5, 2010 Report Posted October 5, 2010 And this is my first poem for the class: ------------------------------------------------- Rencontre or Inevitability Through setting sun and bloodstained sky we move among our dead. Slow, methodically with mournful eyes we ever bowed our heads. We buried them beneath the trees within the hills and plain. With love for them we bent our knees and for their souls we prayed. In the morning had they risen hungry from their beds. And by the noon they strove for us ‘till we smote them in their heads. One by one they drug us down slayed upon the lawn. And on our entrails feasted they through this bloodstained dawn. The suffered shambling figures blotting out the land. The inevitable doom will be handed by the damned. We moan our pain into the night seeking out salvation. Yet as we eat these final meals we guarantee damnation. The suffered shambling figures blotting out the land. The inevitable doom we’ll be as we are the damned. ---------------------------------------
Xaious, Master of Time Posted October 18, 2010 Author Report Posted October 18, 2010 Second poem. Really wish I'd remembered to write this sooner... ( I feel it reeks of being worked on too late for its due date. Opinions?) ------------------------------------- Join me On a journey through the nightmarescapes of a daydream. From this seat within this room, to fly out in contempt of the laws of sanity, morality. Gravity. Physics. The sky bleeds red, a mighty furnace above the grass so green and lively -- fed and fattened on the corpses of our past. Corpses who once reached for the flames of Sol. The burning sky's oppressive clouds ooze black blood: nourishment for the trees who writhe in agony, tearing at one another and moaning the diseased heartwood within. On wings of pestilence and plague we shall fly. In search of that which soothes. We will never find. When the trees strike and through closed eyes you see: sinew and bone, they strike for thee. Muscles ripple and bark splinters as your innards they seek. Your wings they shall break. And down will you fall, striking sharply the charnel ground, and sinking within. Sinking. Sinking. Until Death takes us.
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