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When threat is certain to befall
And battle looms in foreseen call;
When drawing wars are to be fought
Then bravest knights to arms are sought.
Yet he above stands tall and proud
Trailed ever by an enthralled crowd;
As gallant looks and air of might
Protect him from the noise of fight.
His words are laced by pledging tone --
He dazzles all with smile alone;
His face sincere and features set
Exempt him from the bid of threat.
A loyal knight he is to be --
His justly strength for all to see;
For endlessly he is adored
With no fight fought or draw of sword.
Enveloped by his blazing pride
He basks in glory ill-denied;
For eyes of charm and faultless flair
Relieve him from threat's icy glare.
The Creed of Krawk Island
I wonder what is waiting there
Just beyond the sea?
Treasures, riches, tales ahoy!
So let us sail and ride the breeze.
Let us spin our stories well,
Of catching wave and storm and swell,
And let us cast our dreams ashore,
To take this creed to heart and core.
Injustice among the crews,
Unrest by the evenin' brews,
When trust among the crew is lost,
Ye yerself will pay the cost.
Plunder only what ye seek,
And take aboard within the week,
Gold among the crew is split,
And no more will ye hear of it.
Treasures aren't only things
That make it worth the journeying;
Keep your bonds alive and well,
Or no stories ye'll have to tell.
And as the days grow long and old,
Yer good ole' ship will not be sold,
And yer last wish will fondly be
Lay me te' rest beside the sea.
The Presence of the Citadel
Bright blue skies, some darkest black,
Lush rolling hills, some beaten track,
Freedom, hope, world everclear,
The draw of breath, the fear that's near.
The dark above that tears the skies,
The land below, the peasant's cries,
The war that's come, as cold as frost,
The ones who weep for those they've lost.
Bright blue skies remain in tears,
Lush rolling hills, crushed by fears,
Freedom, hope, have gone away,
No more breath, for those who prayed.
Upon the sandy dunes he sits,
Listening to the rustling breeze
Whipping past his ears, whispering
Tales of hope and rosy dreams.
A wistful look settles on the ruins,
Where the great city once was thriving.
Now a faded shell, wallowing
In crumbled plaster, worthlessly.
Yet Jazan halts not in efforts sure,
Restoration his tireless goal,
And returning honour to his subjects,
To whom Qasala is the world.
Banish the remnants of ancient curse,
Be gone, evil at its worst,
For prosperous times the city thirsts.
A return to glory, their greatest yearn.
And as the first rays of the sun
Spreads golden glow on cracked walls,
The dawn of promise so unfolds:
Qasala will be restored to old.
Tears of Caylis
If down beneath the swirling waves
You ever chance to roam,
You'll hear a mournful melody
Behind the drifting foam.
Melancholy notes ring through the sea,
A story told of tears and pain,
Caylis, lonely, scared to sleep,
To sleep and dream again.
Her dreams resound with terrible sights,
Destruction widespread, cities fall,
But still her tormented lament
Ceases not her call.
For Caylis once was happy, joyed
With Isca, sister fair,
Both dwelled in new Maraqua
Sleeping -- and dreaming -- there.
For Isca's dreams the king had loved,
But Caylis' heart was bold,
Her dreams they turned to nightmares,
Destruction she foretold.
And so she was blamed for her visions unwanted,
Thrown out, exiled, because of her thoughts,
So soon her life was torn asunder
And Caylis, soon forgot.
But some say when the sea is quiet
Do you e'er venture near,
You'll hear the song of Caylis
And see her silvery tears.
Total Poetry Pages : 1829
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