A piece made in a sort of contest with another poet here on the bay, a quite brilliant one I might add.
Seeping in from the atmosphere, impending doom
Tomes and scrolls, bottles and flasks
Instruments for the most unholy of tasks
The air suddenly thickens in fearful suspense
The darkness and shadows become vivid and dense
A dark figure emerges from the gloom, an avatar of sins
The man who is not man whispers; "Now...It begins..."
Upon the floor is written;"To Ye who cross, vigil I implore"
In the blood of men and symbols of a nether folk, an alien race
With cold greed and evil hunger, caution the mage abhore
Chants and incantations echoing at increasing pace
The floor creaks and moans under the opening gate
Glyphs and runes glow infused with a dark will and hate
Tremors shake the fabric of the physical plane
The fabric rips in shockwaves which purges the sane
A tempestuous oval of flame and rippling shadows suspended in the air
The desire of a lifetime culminates in a furious craving for unholy power and might
Thrusting his malice into the gate, the mage rips out an alien denizen shocked with despair
To cure his sorrow and sate his hunger he devours the foreign soul, while it screams in pain and fright
The gate closes, silence invades
The glow of glyphs slowly fades
A dark room, a silent place
Then a hellish glow from a demonic face!
The quiet shatters in a nightmare, in fear and alarm
The hand of fate is cut off by the arm
The mage is aflame, his skin melts and sheds
From the ashes of a man, arises what all light dreads
A fire in palm, a blaze in eyes
A gaze which shatter all lies
To challenge the gods and spirits of old
Stands again a demon, triumphant and bold
A dark soul whos' dark dream came true
Who thought of vice and sin as virtue
The once mage brushes from his new body the burnt shreds of his robe and cloak
Seating in a wooden chair which turns at his touch to a dark throne instead of brown oak
A man proved tonight that he could cast away his humanity, no longer be a slave or chalice
A laughter echoes between the walls, and haunts the night with its triumphant malice
The shadow of darkness stretches across the land
The fear and tension of war grows, a dread so fel
Who can ever defeat a being untouchable by fates hand?
A man who stole the power of a being from hell?
Poetry by Rex Panthera
Read 686 times
Written on 2009-12-01 at 11:37
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The Invoker of Destiny
A sweeping cloth dances about in an eerie roomSeeping in from the atmosphere, impending doom
Tomes and scrolls, bottles and flasks
Instruments for the most unholy of tasks
The air suddenly thickens in fearful suspense
The darkness and shadows become vivid and dense
A dark figure emerges from the gloom, an avatar of sins
The man who is not man whispers; "Now...It begins..."
Upon the floor is written;"To Ye who cross, vigil I implore"
In the blood of men and symbols of a nether folk, an alien race
With cold greed and evil hunger, caution the mage abhore
Chants and incantations echoing at increasing pace
The floor creaks and moans under the opening gate
Glyphs and runes glow infused with a dark will and hate
Tremors shake the fabric of the physical plane
The fabric rips in shockwaves which purges the sane
A tempestuous oval of flame and rippling shadows suspended in the air
The desire of a lifetime culminates in a furious craving for unholy power and might
Thrusting his malice into the gate, the mage rips out an alien denizen shocked with despair
To cure his sorrow and sate his hunger he devours the foreign soul, while it screams in pain and fright
The gate closes, silence invades
The glow of glyphs slowly fades
A dark room, a silent place
Then a hellish glow from a demonic face!
The quiet shatters in a nightmare, in fear and alarm
The hand of fate is cut off by the arm
The mage is aflame, his skin melts and sheds
From the ashes of a man, arises what all light dreads
A fire in palm, a blaze in eyes
A gaze which shatter all lies
To challenge the gods and spirits of old
Stands again a demon, triumphant and bold
A dark soul whos' dark dream came true
Who thought of vice and sin as virtue
The once mage brushes from his new body the burnt shreds of his robe and cloak
Seating in a wooden chair which turns at his touch to a dark throne instead of brown oak
A man proved tonight that he could cast away his humanity, no longer be a slave or chalice
A laughter echoes between the walls, and haunts the night with its triumphant malice
The shadow of darkness stretches across the land
The fear and tension of war grows, a dread so fel
Who can ever defeat a being untouchable by fates hand?
A man who stole the power of a being from hell?
Poetry by Rex Panthera
Read 686 times
Written on 2009-12-01 at 11:37
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Doreen Cavazza |
