Gathered on this yearly night, coming together sharing verse of fright.
Tales of horror intended to chill each other to the core.
Here I stand before you, bare, with my tales I'm willing to share
willing for a thrilling and dare you to journey with me and explore.
Open wide the gates of mind and let your curiosity explore,
To the days of woe and tales of yore.
Shall I tell you of what gave birth in the dark corners of the earth,
the shadows over Innsmouth piercing through volumes of forbidden lore?
There the townsfolk practiced magic summoning up the creatures pelagic
'till they all seemed to vanish, tragic, in a savage, primal roar.
And the land fell in silence upon hearing that primal roar,
fell in Silence in days of yore.
Shall I speak of Pixies and Fae, chasing in dreams of unaware prey,
tearing eyes of dreamers who never wake from slumber they adore.
They lure their victims lively with their bodies ever tiny
'till they calmly turn and slyly snuff the light out from their shore.
Now the void embraces them as lights have gone out from their shore.
Sniffed in dreams and days of yore.
The grim-dark tales of Lordran cannot be quick or shortened
for the long forgotten kingdom lives on in myth forever more.
Its knights relentlessly battered against the wall until it shattered,
it never even mattered when their soul was lost within the war.
The Lord of Cinder took their hopes, their souls were lost within the war,
in the distant grim-dark days of yore.
It cannot be comprehended what the darkness had intended
when it entered old Drangleic through Nashandra, Queen of Lore.
Poor king Vendrick drowned in sorrow, no longer he saw the morrow
and he slowly became hollow, locked behind the Undead Door.
His kings guard valiantly waning, locked behind the Undead Door.
Old Drangleic in days of yore.
Now the tales can keep on going, endless words and timeless flowing.
The dark and grim creations throwing shadows on the floor.
They will remain within our hearts instilling fear in all out parts
and evolve into arts as they are repeated more and more.
For once a year we gather, to be terrorized some more.
Every year, since days of yore.
YOU ARE READING
Sic Parvis Magna - A Poetry collection
Poesia"Greatness from Small Beginnings" This is a collection of all the poems I've written in the past, present and will write in the future. There is no limit to what the mind creates. Nor is there a limit on Poetry.
