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May 30, 2012
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  >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Fantasy >> ID #1780084  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
Flight
For Eternal book of Poetry Contest: Visual prompt 2
Rated:
E
by
Avg Rating: (4)
I come before thee,
my lord, with a plea.
These witches three
be after me!

What witches three?
I do not see
why it should be
they're after thee.


All clad in white,
they roam the night
by the pale moonlight,
wielding a fearsome might.

My journey began,
in the forests of Cran.
Since then I've ran,
with my brother Shran.

You're a foolish man,
to walk the forests of Cran.
But where is this Shran,
with whom you've ran?


My brother is dead.
When the moon turned red,
they took his head.
On his body they fed.

Yet you are alive.
How did you survive?
Did you plan and connive?
Did you pray to The Five?


I'd have been remiss,
not to pray to Al-Janyss.
A touch from the Abyss
brought strength of the Goddess' Kiss

The Goddess' mark left me wired,
with the strength I desired.
But now I'm so tired,
my legs feel as if mired.

I'm feeling so weak,
and I'm sure that I reek,
I've been running for a week!
Your help I do seek!

You're sure they still follow you?
We'll help you pull through.
Tell me what I can do.
Get this man a seat and some stew!


You're esteemed highness,
I thank you for your kindness.
To assist me with my crisis,
marks thee as righteous.

I know not why they follow,
if they have souls they be hollow.
A strong horse I would borrow,
when I leave on the morrow.

Surely my men could hold them back.
My great fort they could not sack.
For arms my men do not lack,
I'm sure they'd never attack.


No doubt your men's spirit be knightly,
but I'm sure some would become flighty.
And that would be done rightly,
for the witches magic is mighty.

When they glide across morning's haze,
even dogs hairs will raise.
No one they will not faze,
until it shines the sun's first rays.

What happens at morning's light?
They will vanish from sight,
and I'll rest from my plight,
until comes the next night.

Then I'll flee again.
Seek help from other men.
Be it a hundred or ten,
until that moment when...

(Here I said with a sigh)
I escape, or I die.
© Copyright 2011 Ducttape Knight (UN: navatar1 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Ducttape Knight has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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