Old poem...

[partly]

I'm not a poet. I like poetry, but I'm not good at writing it. I do have this small idea to write a poem for each chapter in my novel with a poem -- something small like a modified hiaku that I could work into being part of the culture of the land the fantasy is set in.

Anyhow, in my recent effort to organize my life, I have been sorting through all my old story files and ran across a poem I wrote once, many moons ago. It was the basis for a novel I started and then abandonedset aside.

I've always like the poem. I read it to Myr and she liked it, too, so I thought I'd share.

Out of the Past

The morning dawns dark,
a sky full of fear.
Back clouds raining fire,
a hell's drawing near.

And out of the past,
the horsemen arrive
On steeds sowing death
from fiery eyes.

With thundering hooves
and shoes made of steel,
They leave not a trace,
just and evil I feel.

This fear that they bring,
the sorrow and pain;
Draws me to them, through
the cold, icy rain.

I join in their passion,
rejoice in their ruin;
Fueling their need for
destruction and doom.

And I stand here alone,
secure in my guilt,
Gladly destroying
this life that I built.

Comments

[donnickcottage.livejournal.com]

It's beautiful, but incredibly sad.

[partly.livejournal.com]

Thanks.

There's just something about the briefness of (most) poetry that allows it to be very emotional. I like this piece a great deal and plan on using it in some way.

Just not sure how, yet.