Inspired by, of course, Skyrim.
----
Bleed thy last breath, mighty Nord,
and feel thyself carried by Arkay
through the red-blue fires of Soverngarde.
Quench thy pains in the Hall of Valor.
My father, here we lay you down
in this frigid stone crypt.
Though Mother mourns, you died as you should.
Soverngarde's halls await a new warrior.
That sword in the chest can be ignored
with gallons of mead to keep it at bay.
Aye! Brandish your earned war scars
for all to see in this parlor!
If you become a Draugr in this ghost town
I will return, axe equipped,
and on our traditions make good.
You must remain in this corridor.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2019)
PoetryShort poems of varying subjects and construction, but deep enough to be swallowed in. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. These were written mostly in the year 2019. Please feel free to leave any feedback...
