Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash
The Shrouded Horror poised with scythe to mow
Green shoots, ripe wheat, and weathered stalks alike,
Grim gritted teeth and hollow eyes aglow
With pride, It paused to survey It's great Reich.
The dauntless Judge considered its next strike,
A hiss escaped the rictus of It's grin,
When stabbing fear sharp as a guardsman's pike
Pierced skin and bone and icy heart within.
Black clouds and tolling, rolling thunder's din
Forced hateful eyes, against their will, to see
That White Cloaked Victor's glorious rule begin:
The Vicar pinned against a Roman Tree.
Now tattered shroud and broken scythe remain,
Obeisance paid in honor of His Reign
I want to be mindful of the rules regarding multiple posts but I thought some of you might like what I posted in Critical Analysis. No offense will be taken if the moderators must remove this post.
"If I rest, I rust." - Martin Luther
[This message has been edited by jbouder (edited 12-16-1999).]