Serius, the Syrian Sorceror, is a character i made up, as a villain, for another character i made up, named Fyre, who is an angel of the Lord of Hosts, Our Father in Heaven. i've had fun writing poems about them both, and haven't written one for awhile
that you woulodn't know to miss
the beating of your heart inside
or the doors of hades swinging wide
Serius, enchanting stalwart scoin of royal lineage, going back to hell
from which, i swear, my oldest ansestral memory, is of that day i fell
from heavens trumpt up majesty, through a very vale of tears
to land here among these people, and their many lovely lively fears
an eye i wiped, and without an upward glance
i set about to make the best, of my every chance
to find employers fit for me, apprentise as i was back then
to try to fit in with this crowd, so evil was this race of men
gently, trepidations palpitate, this cavern of flame within my chest
i wandered to and fro, trying my levelest best
to figure out how to compete, with Adams vicious broods
still on my guard, still atremble, they have such moods
to and fro, yet still i go
aworried and afrighted, don't you know
i kneel and pray, to God above, for His grace
trapped in this so beknighted place
often
to and fro, to and fro
Poetry by solomonstorm
Read 680 times
Written on 2010-01-06 at 22:21
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Serius, reborn
Serius, Arch Nemisis of such blissthat you woulodn't know to miss
the beating of your heart inside
or the doors of hades swinging wide
Serius, enchanting stalwart scoin of royal lineage, going back to hell
from which, i swear, my oldest ansestral memory, is of that day i fell
from heavens trumpt up majesty, through a very vale of tears
to land here among these people, and their many lovely lively fears
an eye i wiped, and without an upward glance
i set about to make the best, of my every chance
to find employers fit for me, apprentise as i was back then
to try to fit in with this crowd, so evil was this race of men
gently, trepidations palpitate, this cavern of flame within my chest
i wandered to and fro, trying my levelest best
to figure out how to compete, with Adams vicious broods
still on my guard, still atremble, they have such moods
to and fro, yet still i go
aworried and afrighted, don't you know
i kneel and pray, to God above, for His grace
trapped in this so beknighted place
often
to and fro, to and fro
Poetry by solomonstorm
Read 680 times
Written on 2010-01-06 at 22:21
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
