GRAVEYARD NATIVES AND MASKED MEN
I conquered monsters with the words of my father,
"What you keep on wanting are those you never get."
So my voyage went on under a strange weather,
the gale gave signs that obstacles will never end.
My translation was true when the second arrived,
it came as a legion of underground dwellers.
With skins of forgotten tales and defeated fights,
but beneath the rotten flesh the strength it covers.
These dead natives bare their teeth on noises they hear,
they have bear-like claws that can tear a bone in half.
Eyes so deep that no one can see even a seer,
good riddance to the victims of their rage and wrath.
War of the ages with limited resources,
but what lacking will never stop me from fighting.
Alone against them, I am bleeding and breathless,
until three warriors in hoods and masks stood by me.
One with ocean eyes, the bow and arrow he used,
he stands on the highest to deal with the farthest.
A beauty with two daggers left no chance for truce,
he stands behind us while he handles the defense.
Then another with marked skin who kills with purpose,
but... he and the sword reminds me of my brunet.
YOU ARE READING
SETH
PoetryA collection of self-written poetry about a recurring theme in the writer's dreams-dreams about past lives and a man named Seth. A poetry series that will be a fantasy/historical novel. To fantasy, dark romance, etc. readers/writers, I am open to...
