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Barallus and Valrigard
Far apart in dungeons deep,
Both imprisoned, one in chains,
Though these two could never meet,
If they did, what would they say?
"Little Korbat, who are you?
Why in chains are you held fast?
Was the accusation true,
Or was luck against you cast?"
"I'm Barallus, and I'm mad --
You might say completely bats!
No one knows just what I did,
And I don't get many chats.
Who are you, besides a Draik?
Why kept down in dungeons dank?
What was the crime, and for whose sake,
Did you lose your better rank?"
"Traitor is the claim they made,
But it wasn't true, you see,
Still, to lock me up he bade;
I must fight to make my plea."
"Darigan keeps me in chains;
Skarl in dungeons deep threw you."
"You for crimes you can't recall,
Me for ones I didn't do."
Rolling tides of dust and sand
Swirl about my feet;
I listen not to the desert's song
Of sun, of sand, of heat.
I walk on without a care,
My only goal to reach the shrine;
If I can cross the desert bare,
Well, everything will be fine.
Coltzan! O King Coltzan!
I call you from below
Your mighty golden obelisk,
So a gift you might bestow!
Give me strength, good king,
The strength of the desert sand,
Or give me wisdom, Coltzan,
With which you ruled your land.
So hear my call and cast your gaze
Upon my weary soul,
And if you think me worthy,
Fill my belly full!
I feel strange -- is Coltzan there,
Responding to my plea?
My hands glow blue; my hopes, they fall.
Sorrow replaces glee.
"Tomorrow, Coltzan!" I shout aloud,
"Tomorrow I'll return!
And by then, I will be worthy!
Your riches I will earn!
Until then, merry King,
Await my presence soon,
For I will come back without my hands
Having the slightest trace of blue."
The Court Dancer
Catch a whiff of lavender,
A silky toss of hair,
A picture perfect vision,
Fueled by envious stares.
Graceful waltz through the halls,
Watch closely her dancing feet.
Her tambourine rings loud and clear,
Timing the perfect beat.
Your distance is best kept,
From her mesmerizing smile.
Behind her wide, innocent eyes
Are desires oh-so-vile.
Beyond the land we know,
Between the earth and sea,
There sleeps a world long gone,
With a heart still beating free.
A place we've never known,
Until we found its strife.
A world once prosperous,
But now stripped of life;
A world we've once visited,
But now a stranger of the sea,
Once a place of beauty;
Truly a sight to see.
Once called Maraqua,
A city of dreams a-brewing,
But now known as a city
Lying beneath the sea in ruins.
Maraqua: a world once glistening,
Once sparkling with sunshine on silver,
Now dulled by centuries past,
A treasure trove for a lucky raider.
A lonely heartbeat,
A dream dispersed,
A city in ruins,
And many lives cursed.
This is the tale,
The legend, the fall
Of the lost world: Maraqua,
Now sorrowful and small.
Remnok the Nomad
Remnok, mighty wanderer,
Nomad of great seas of sand,
Awaits the restless squanderer
Who seeks exotic weapons grand.
His desert trades are far unfair,
But one must always strive
'Neath the scorching sun's white glare
To first, preserve their life.
Under day and under night,
Nomad Remnok journeys still,
'Neath the desert moon's white light,
Where the Anubis faintly shrill.
Remnok shields his eyes with an arm
From swirling tendrils of sand,
Eyes ever wary of alarm
Or a passing customer's demand.
His ears hear far across the spaces,
As if the desert whispered to him
About rare weapons from far places,
And he'd set off upon his whim.
Facing peril after peril,
Remnok fights to claim each prize,
Haggles with traders fierce and feral
Merely to stock up on his supplies.
When Remnok finds you at your leisure
(And most certainly he will)
And your eyes catch 'pon his treasure,
Brace yourself for a hefty bill.
Total Poetry Pages : 1689
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