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Parlax the Traitor
Duplicitous, his bogus death.
Appalling, his betrayal.
For all who knew him as a friend
Were duped by his portrayal.
His thoughts corrupt, his actions vile,
He fooled Resistance colleagues.
He passed himself as Gorix's friend
And covered up his intrigues.
The "childhood friends" were always close.
They watched each other's actions.
The traitor known as Parlax hid
His baneful malefactions.
Then one horrific, fateful day
The two were strangely ambushed
And Gorix feared his friend had died
In painful, tortured anguish.
But Parlax was not one to die.
He'd planned the situation.
He'd joined with Sloth to aid his plans
For global domination.
How long had Parlax planned his moves?
How long had Parlax schemed them?
How long did Gorix fear the worst,
His own survival sickening?
Conniving, Parlax's crooked mind.
Corrupt is his remembrance.
For Parlax was a friend to none,
A Sloth agent of menace.
Through the mists of towering peaks
A kingdom rests for you to seek.
Once lost to most and known to few,
Only legends held the name Shenkuu.
Cribbed on ancient maps and charts
It stirred to life adventurous hearts,
Who packed their gear and said goodbye
And set right out to climb the sky.
Where they went they little knew,
Trusting only rumoured clues.
It was but faith that led them on,
They knew the kingdom wasn't gone.
So up they climbed beyond the clouds,
Where mist lay in a phantom shroud.
Perhaps they had been led astray,
Perhaps no city lay this way.
Hope began to wax and wane,
They'd come so far, yet found no gain.
No ancient kingdom met their gaze,
Just snow and rock and foggy haze.
But magic worked beyond their eyes,
And sunbeams fill the misty skies.
The curtain parts, and now behold!
It's just as legends all foretold!
A regal city hidden high,
With rushing rivers flowing by,
Merchants peddle food and drink,
While scholars make you stop and think.
It is a land that calls to young and old,
That offers mysteries yet untold,
So when next you follow a river blue,
Hope it leads to mystic Shenkuu.
Thy Longing Sleep
Stowed away, far in his cave,
he longs for but some sleep.
Awoken by the other's greed.
No one hears his silent plead.
Atop his mountain; shining tall
of possessions he's collected.
Others try to steal his toys,
thus leading to his lacking joy.
Well, can you blame him? I cannot,
frozen to his gloomy spot.
Everyone would dread the day,
if risked of being stolen from.
Committed to his precious cage,
thy home made up of icy cave.
He longs for nothing more but sleep,
while tending to his precious keep.
The Werelupe's Lament
In the onyx haunt of the woods,
No single place is safe.
Not one cavern or crevice,
Escapes the cold wood's wrath.
Creaking bones of ancient boughs
Groan with impending doom,
Whilst slowly making her appearance,
Glides forth, does the moon.
Upon the dreary scene now laid,
She floods the woods with light,
Shrouded wings of darkness flee,
Minions of cold take flight.
Only one remains, his eyes aglow,
Glow as dazzlingly as the moon.
Cloaked within his russet fur,
His eyes a dark maroon.
The Werelupe prowls forth on agile limbs,
His head tilted to the skies.
Baring his fangs and throat,
To his dear moonlight, he cries.
Long, long, under the moon's shining light,
The Werelupe howls into the night.
Misery, contempt, hate and fear,
Are bestowed upon any of those who hear,
His longing and mourning cries.
And as the sun kisses moon goodnight,
Does finally his lament die.
Blending into the surrounding gloom,
For the next full moon.
Dismal is the dankest depths,
The bowels of tunnels deep,
Winding 'neath these lands of 'Dell,
Like fingers, grab and creep.
But fear not, of legend spoke,
Just miners fair and true,
Defy words hissed of perils far,
Descend with fears little, few.
Symol is their name a-boasted,
Their bravery tops their size,
For miner is a calling, theirs,
Skills envied by many eyes.
Hidden in the darkness jet,
Gems and jewels are found,
Miners' eyes can be compared,
To the orbs so bright and round.
Total Poetry Pages : 1971
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