Archives for category: Poetry

I spy them looming nigh, glimmering gray
With approaching night. Oh how pernicious
Those cold orbs gleam! All eightfold, malicious
and bright. “My dear,” they sickly sweet do pray,
“Come out, don’t hide. We merely wish to play
With you. Do you think us so suspicious?
Truly, we are not so very vicious
Though some, it’s true, our fangs would scare away.

I find that I inexorably cling
To words so honey sweet, and I, like flies
Entrapped, or like the moth, poor little thing,
To fatal lamplight drawn, consumed by dreams.
Of dreams defying death that voice implies,
But wait! I wake, and fantasy it seems.

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Born
Of an immortal night
A lonely soul arose,
A sole ray of light…

Beyond
The shifting sands of time
A radiant sun had shone,
Destiny divine…

The wayward soul strode,
Born
To walk, to run, …to fly,
But how the wind had blown
On that long road called Life…

Inspired by A Gift of a Thistle, a theme in the movie Braveheart.

As it danced across those
Lonely lands, the wind spoke
Stories of times unknown…

At a time when men were crowned as kings
Stood a stone, a stone of destiny,
In a place embraced by
Mystery and memory…

Then the breeze danced far beyond my reach…

Inspired by Path to Darkness

Composed by Adrian Von Ziegler

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Dark, Cold, Still, Death…
Dark, Cold, Still, Death…

Listen, do you hear the dead call?
Do you hear them call?           
Hear them calling out for you.

Hear how all the birds crow.
Now the shadows grow.
Life is fleeing far from you.

All the world is frozen.
Now the chill sets in.
Warmth is creeping fast from you.

Yesterday the wind slept.
Now it holds its breath.
Death is stealing upon you.

The path is wide open
Room enough for those men
Who wander far from home
Who never cease to roam. 

They do not fear monsters,
Dread beasts, or conjurors.
They do not fear the witch
Whose soul is black as pitch.

They have no fear of wraiths,
Ghosts or other spirits.
They have no fear of hell
And its deep, fiery pits.

You need not fear the end
You’ve become one of them.
Darkness has come for you.
Death soon will lead you too.

Dark, Cold, Still, Death…
Dark, Cold, Still, Death…

The Soldier

The soldier soldiered ever, ever on
Through trials harsh that crushed his fragile soul.
His life he gave to serve a distant goal,
A pointless quest. And he remained a pawn
To forces callous, cruel, and cold. From dawn
‘Til dusk, he struggled on. There was no lull.
His sacrifice was vain, but play the role          
He must, though hope had failed, though hope was gone.

In spite of this, the soldier strove and fought.
But why? Tenacious, tough, though overtaxed,
His grip on life endured. Not love, but hate
Sustained him through the wretched seasons fraught
with war. But strange, today he looks relaxed.
As if he merely waits to meet with fate.

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