Two fantasy poems…

The ravenous beast of Bagwater

From beneath great depths like a breach, the violent serpent,
There the blue mist and hoar on spiny back,
Ere the crescent wave doth dwindle, shrink, and fall into the dead sea’s tomb.
Round the masted ship whose heights the first-born cloud doth touch,
Round the sea’s brow once a course set long since bade be free,
Breaks, whence all the ship’s sailors begat pride and spirit
Nurtured where north wind holds its reign in canvassed sail.
All the wandering waves of a sea with deathly waters, foam-flakes of scattering schools-
herring, grunt, salmon, hearts endless pounding;
If the prey ye be, within you fail, be broken in your breasts,
Shall ye drive the vultures from crag and rock, slaves to a feast.
As the sky darkened, the scourge of a beast seaward towards a vessel,
Strife to strife aboard soon panicked, rammed the bow thrall and bond;
The serpent’s mouth lashed and thundered, laid waste the soul of men.
Clothed with blood, rose-red curdled- frail to fetter fast in an engulfing sea.
None survived, sheathed into the great beast’s gullet, limbs all gaunt and riven;
Round the sea beyond the shoals bared the darkling screams-
The creature’s wrath smote thee; ship’s remains on soft-sanded banks,
Scavengers with tongues together rapture on wings, trembling in cold
As they trod triumphant, rasped their murderous song; saluted the dead with feathers.
Yeah, no god may stand betwixt them and the shadows of the deep,
Nor family’s prayers may plead- they are clothed in black; they close the graves.

The ravenous beast of Bagwater

G’mueth early found a sacred love

I.
The Battle

It hath been seen and yet it shall happen
And evidence of wise kings witnessing,
No liege shall set sight of the great throne;
The strength of an army has been the strength of one,
Among the downs, deep in the fields,
Of great blood to make warriors men.
He, G’mueth, flawless and whole upward from foot to head,
Wore the armor of a lordly man,
Full of quick sword in a wind and many a shaken earth,
Laid waste of soldiers, all but one,
Was nigh feeble before her fearful blade;
Her mercy in her from least years of battle,
Would ease the fallen, a most gracious thing.
The chapels of her beliefs of saintly priests
And in the thought thereof worship
That in the fighting, time was bled.
The lordly knight with marvel of blade knelt before her-
St. Aurelia. Golden hair and eyes like sleepy pearls,
Stooped her neck sideways and spake pleasantly:
Thou shalt have grace and my love full tenderly.

II.
The Heart

There is no touch of sun, of fallen rain
That ever fell on a more gracious warrior;
I will face the wrath of armies, the bite of swords,
I bid you my love, for this my pleasure,
O sweet one love, O my heart’s delight,
Not twice in the world shall gods do this.
And by the great sea they wed, under sunbeam and breeze,
The betrotheds with lips athirst for thine to slake.
The dust of victories cast into the sea’s fervent flakes of blue,
Battles allured no more, now king and queen of air and sky;
Their love deeper than all plummets sound.
St. Aurelia subtly warmed in time soon bore child,
A princess of bluest eyes, the bluest of life;
Great gods in heaven, what beauty shall be,
Yet all immortal are they, clothed with power,
Not to be comforted by all- a kingdom too great to appease;
By a creed, all ye shall not live, but die.
The sound of iron oppressed the sun, can anything be otherwise-
Soldiers marched, held fast to swords, to death.
To each other: my sweet, for me no more with you, goodbye…

G’mueth early found a sacred love