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Author Craft / He Also Writes Poetry!
« on: October 27, 2009, 02:03:46 PM »
Greetings All,
Although those who know me in the real world would be surprised to find out, I've written a good deal of poetry in my time.
Some good, some not so good, and some better than I would ever have expected from myself.
Just thought I'd post one to the forum that is somewhat on topic for ya'll to read and enjoy (or not) if you wish.
So without further ado...
Heroes by the hundreds slain on a battlefield they lay
In all its righteous fury the force of good has won the day
Against the invading army they broke but did not run away
In the bodies of its soldiers now the victory price is paid
Blood red is the color of Deaths wet hand
And through its dripping fingers runs times sand
Blood red is the color of Deaths wet hand
As it reaches forth to claim the lives of man
Shattered spires and toppled towers, a city lies in ruin
All is still in silent streets save shadows cast by sun and moon
The corpses of its populace like lifeless dolls lay strewn
By neither prayer nor sacrifice could they prevent untimely doom
Bone white is the color of Deaths dread hand
And through its ivory fingers runs times sand
Bone white is the color of Deaths dread hand
As it reaches forth to claim the lives of man
Blinding snow and bitter winds blow, a winter storm arrives
Caught unprepared a sailing ship whose crew will not survive
Crashing waves from a heartless ocean cause their vessel to capsize
Those not drown cling to debris 'till icy waters end their cries
Frost blue is the color of Deaths cold hand
And through its frozen fingers runs times sand
Frost blue is the color of Deaths cold hand
As it reaches forth to claim the lives of man
Sacrilegious desecration of mans holiest of shrines
Thieves dig for buried treasure in graves opened out of time
Unaware that all around them lurks a presence ancient and malign
That traps them underground deep within the earths confines
Dirt brown is the color of Deaths foul hand
And through its moldy fingers runs times sand
Dirt brown is the color of Deaths foul hand
As it reaches forth to claim the lives of man
WilliamC
Although those who know me in the real world would be surprised to find out, I've written a good deal of poetry in my time.
Some good, some not so good, and some better than I would ever have expected from myself.
Just thought I'd post one to the forum that is somewhat on topic for ya'll to read and enjoy (or not) if you wish.
So without further ado...
Heroes by the hundreds slain on a battlefield they lay
In all its righteous fury the force of good has won the day
Against the invading army they broke but did not run away
In the bodies of its soldiers now the victory price is paid
Blood red is the color of Deaths wet hand
And through its dripping fingers runs times sand
Blood red is the color of Deaths wet hand
As it reaches forth to claim the lives of man
Shattered spires and toppled towers, a city lies in ruin
All is still in silent streets save shadows cast by sun and moon
The corpses of its populace like lifeless dolls lay strewn
By neither prayer nor sacrifice could they prevent untimely doom
Bone white is the color of Deaths dread hand
And through its ivory fingers runs times sand
Bone white is the color of Deaths dread hand
As it reaches forth to claim the lives of man
Blinding snow and bitter winds blow, a winter storm arrives
Caught unprepared a sailing ship whose crew will not survive
Crashing waves from a heartless ocean cause their vessel to capsize
Those not drown cling to debris 'till icy waters end their cries
Frost blue is the color of Deaths cold hand
And through its frozen fingers runs times sand
Frost blue is the color of Deaths cold hand
As it reaches forth to claim the lives of man
Sacrilegious desecration of mans holiest of shrines
Thieves dig for buried treasure in graves opened out of time
Unaware that all around them lurks a presence ancient and malign
That traps them underground deep within the earths confines
Dirt brown is the color of Deaths foul hand
And through its moldy fingers runs times sand
Dirt brown is the color of Deaths foul hand
As it reaches forth to claim the lives of man
WilliamC