Gloomy forests
Black trees deprived of leaves
The ground bare of vegetation
The sky grey
Paths
as a spiders web
If the wrong path is chosen
you die!
Goblins with swords
Trolls with hands like clubs
Await.
Tag: Fantasy
World of Ancient Times.
Passageways dark and eerie
Under the mountain they lie.
Lakes of deep dark icy black waters.
Small islands of crude cold jagged rock.
So deadly, yet so alluring.
Attracting the brave
and the fool.
Mercilessly drawing them inward
and then in dark corners
slowly pushing a dagger
into their thoughts.
The evil watches as the idiot dies
in the cold and lonesome darkness.
Skeletons perhaps never found
in the sorrow and shame of greed.
Yet gold there is
and riches there are.
The Dark Lords know
that man cannot resist.
He will pursue it until his death.
Other cunning creatures
in their evil ways
are rewarded by the Lords.
They get no joy of it.
They sit in dark damp corners
and wallow over their treasure.
Afraid of the light of truth.
They will never know the pleasure
of soft green grass
and the warmth of the sun.
Evil little creatures are they
with cunning long fingers.
Many have found their way
round mans throat.
Many have felt the body
struggle and drop
limp within the deadly clasp.
Those evil little creatures
that place the blades of daggers
into the stomachs of men.
Watching them fall
weak with pain and shock.
Those horrid little cowardice creatures!
Inspiration
Inspiration irritates me
in the long thin hours of dark
When the witches bewitch
and the devils bedevil
and the faeries flutter
in gold and silver streaks
accross the starry woods.
The pixies light their lamps
among the black and blue trees
The mermaids sing their song
to the hushing moonlit tide
on a faraway shore
The white horses sparkle
silver in the starlight
The unicorn awakens from slumber
in the most sacredly secret
most deeply distant
most mysteriously magic
part of the woods
He awakens slowly sleepy
among the oldest and ancient roots
of the fig tree
Shakes from his body the dew
He must be up and about by three
He lifts his head and opens his wise wide eyes
and inspiration irritates me
Tugging and teasing my mind
in the long thin hours of dark
the most magical of times.
Dragon Slayer
There in the Black Dragon hunting ground.
The cave seems deeper than nightmares.
A choking roar comes forth.
Cold sweat trickles as he approaches.
At the mouth of the cave
he lights the torch.
The stalegmites and stalegtites
look like great teeth.
The flame of the torch licks
the roof of the cave.
Clouds of steam float by.
Swirling as if alive.
The cave widens.
There is the dragon asleep.
It looks helpless, innocent.
One eye opens.
A cat eye, greater in malice.
The warrior draws his sword.
Took too long.
The Annihilation – 2nd Chronicle
Autumn makes her cautious arrival
and with her
swift destruction.
Beings blind of simple beauty
crush the forest
under great slabs of cold stone.
Faeries flee to unknown depths
and cold blue-black places.
Pixies dash for safety.
All seek refuge elsewhere.
*
Ice days arrive and
I fear the desolation of clover groves
will remain unblessed with freshness.
I flee and seek refuge
elsewhere
as the pixies have.
*
And in the stagnant air of winter
when sadness
and longing for companionship is most
and past ages and warmth seem eternally exiled
I return to the desolation of the clover forests
with a silence and a cloak around me.
Wishing for a hint of what was.
*
Among the slabs
I see new fresh
leaves of three.
New trees grow
in tiny huddled green ponds
peering out at the land.
Among the brown is green
and in the stillness of winter’s eve
I see icy sunlight
and even sharper shade.
But in the shadows
peers a hope of forests
when the ponds will join.
The faeries will come
and the pixies and dwarves.
All join in the rebirth.
*
And my mind will once more
have a place to slumber
unhurried.
I will hear the distant water and play
with the little ones
in the cool
green shadows
under the four-leaved trees
in summer’s heat.
Hashish-ah
Hashish-ah
i makes me laugh
ya see da blue smoke risin’
in da daak nite
an’ da staas
day ah distant an smutherin’
da nite smells o’ da
hashish da goo’ times
da nite is quiet – so still
da slo’ sigh of da hashish
da slo’ sigh of plesha-ah
I laugh an’ feel so good
an’ da blue smoke risin’ to da staas
me am standin’ still
but i is movin’
da hashish she hits me balance
an’ I cannat stan’
but i am stayin’ standin’
da hashish-ahh
da girl flirts wi me
I say somtin an wi laugh
an a time is slo’
an’ i feel an see so differen’
i see wi me soul i hear wi me soul
i feel wi me soul i smell wi me soul
an is so goo’ an’ is so slo’
Hashish-ahh slo’.
Toadstool
Toadstool, toadstool
So brown and so tall
awaiting oh so great
a fall.
When you must die
at the end of the day.
Where will your dwarf live
do tell me I pray?
*
He wonders the forest
till the next rain.
Then
and only then
do I come again.
Middle Earth
Down in dungeons
deep and dark
Where dragons sleep
on quiet seas of gold
Secret doors to goblin’s treasure
Old scrolls
for wizard’s pleasure
Skeletons of warriors long deceased
Rusty swords and cold walls
Old
but sturdy
Village warriors
gone to challenge and died
Souls lost forever
in a labyrinth
of walls, ghouls
and treasure.
Untitled #1
Faeries in the forests
in the mystic night-time.
Whisper through the dark leaves.
Show you life’s just a pantomime.