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PoeticKnight
Senior Member
since 2000-01-20
Posts 1144
New Orleans, LA

0 posted 2000-02-22 11:29 AM


In the German lands of falling snows
There today where no one goes
Nestled there the holy village Brocken
I myself, a lad of only ten
The winds blew cold down the mountain
Foretelling news of someone’s coming
A savior, a most respected priest
From Promised Land, south and east
This new pastor, Reverend James,
With two silent monks he came
Young, dignified, with a gleam in his eye
He made all well with a spell of his smile
How intently did we listen so
To him as gentle as the falling snow
To behold with eyes as they glazed
And question not what we praised
The next four months became unreal
Like a thief our souls to steal
And not one among us aware
Sitting still with same empty stares
Those who spoke up soon to die
With that lost look in their eyes
Looking, but no one sees
Lonely town falls to its knees
And by the light of the moon
Can’t even feel our pending doom
In my dreams figures twist my mind
Controlling me and distorting time
But how we didn’t understand
The coldness of his offered hand
That hidden something in his smile
Wanton darkness and wicked guile
This is where I find myself on the Eve
Of Christ’s Day to take my leave
Warm and comfortable in my bed
Restless though, I am led
Something draws me to show
To look out my frozen window
In night’s gloom I see a fire
Far away, distant red spire
Without thought, nor long the while
I make the lonely trek through the lonely mile
Through thick snow and ancient trees
I make my way to stop and see
A huge unearthly fire and the monks
Two silent bowing lumps
Then, their heads up and stared
As mine follows into darkened air
Slowly something comes floating down
With wings and topped by a foul crown
It is James; with daggers for hands
Softly into the fire he lands
Naked, bestial as he truly was
Overwhelmed by awe, into sleep I fell
Awakened later from this spell
My vision finally un-blurred
By beholding the demon-bird
It is night: below, Brocken starts mass
For them, this night is their last
I rush forward fast, and blind
My enemy now is time
For as I make the village square
Everyone, the whole town is there
With knives all on high
Black holes in his golden eyes
Then I race headlong down
Only to fall, face into the frigid ground
His monks see the attack
Pin me inches from his wretched back
But my fingers have life of their own
Reaches out and grabs his cloak
And before the knives could fall
Down comes the robes, exposing all
Wings outstretch, to the air they take
For everyone the spell begins to break
Hands burning, turns to laugh
Mouth spills blood of innocent calf
Smiles as the flames sear his flesh
The pain is still only just fresh
Melting his face, screaming in rage
Crying out with voices from every age
Peeling the skin from his eyes
According to plan – watch him die
As three mounds of ashes burn
We see, but have we learned?


© Copyright 2000 J.M. Landry - All Rights Reserved
Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554

1 posted 2000-02-22 02:43 PM


wow...what inspired this??? I think this could go in the Prose or fiction forums...this place it SO huge...I never get to all the forums like Id like too.
You have a creative mind!! take care,
janet marie

 ...every moment of every day...
your still with me in every way.
every poem and song...
every rhyme and verse...
your still here...like a beautiful curse.
your my inspiration, your my fire...
your words fill me with poetic desire.
Every moment of every day...
your still with me in every way.
Janet Marie
*I miss you baby...
I love you, always.*


PoeticKnight
Senior Member
since 2000-01-20
Posts 1144
New Orleans, LA
2 posted 2000-02-22 04:38 PM


Thanks janet. I hope you read this reply, because this poem is sorta the reason i started writing poetry in the first place.
It started out as one of my short stories in high school, and a teacher borrowed my only hand written copy! And of course, lost it. So, i quickly wrote it in long poem form to remember it, and fell in love with the brevity of poetry (Me being lazy). So, my short story ideas were put into poems, then the poems became just poems and now, i wish i could go back to writing short stories.
Maybe one day. *L* When everything slows down.
Thanks again for showing me this forum.

jenifeather
Junior Member
since 2000-02-21
Posts 31
Here
3 posted 2000-02-22 09:32 PM


wow, that was one of the most amazing poems i have read. you are very talented. i would love to read more of your work.
Jennifer

Jannel
Member
since 2000-01-18
Posts 492
Muncie, IN, USA
4 posted 2000-02-22 09:39 PM


very nice. incredible storytelling.
jannel


 "I'm just saying
that we've mistaken one
for thousands of words,
and for that mistake
I've caused you such pain
that I damn that word."
-10000 Maniacs "Jezebel"



Isis
Member Ascendant
since 1999-09-06
Posts 6296
Sunny Queensland
5 posted 2000-02-22 11:11 PM


You have a gift for storytelling in the old days I think you would have been a bard.  Glad a teacher's forgetfulness inspired/ brought this out in you, so we all can benefit from it.  Unreal  

 May the world hug you today,
With it's warmth and love.
I pray it whispers a joyful tune in your heart,
That tell you there is a friend sitting in another corner of the world,
Wishing you well and
wishing you love......
~Isis~
(Goddess - Sovereign of the Spirit)



PoeticKnight
Senior Member
since 2000-01-20
Posts 1144
New Orleans, LA
6 posted 2000-02-23 03:20 PM


Thank You. That is the thing we strive for i guess...to tell a story. I am honored that anybody even read this. Thanks again.
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