Poem: The Slave of Barrows

[Belomar]

Judging by the favorable comments to my last poem (and the absence of death threats), I will continue posting my meanderings on the life in our fair Albion. This time, my story is more ominous; a dire warning of the perils of the Stonehenge Barrows, a warning you all should contemplate!

The Slave of Barrows
On the steppe of Salisbury Plains,
Rest the boulders of dark Stonehenge.
Beneath their bulk, the deceitful tomb,
Where shouts of evil shall ever boom.
Of wights, of Celts, and undead men,
Of souls, of ghouls, and what can ye ken?
To Barrows, one night, my path then veered.
And ever since I've darkness feared.

Wild and raging, the storm descended,
Jagged lightning the darkness fended.
Distant thunder like a giant's growl,
Black clouds form his furrowed brow.
Clutching my weapon in shivering hands,
I approached the stone ring, wielding my lance.
Entering the tomb, abandoning the moon,
My fate was sealed, my doom was soon.

Of that night I will tell you naught,
Save that many dangers I fought.
Beasts of scales and horrid claws,
Ghouls with ever-hungry maws.
Whispy ghosts and wights of doom,
Roaming each and every room.
Where, oh, where, can I find some calm?
My strength is fading, my body needs balm.

Where am I now, you ask yourself,
Well, my friend, I shall tell you then.
Of the demon that overcame me,
A strong vile beast I could not flee.
How this fiend my soul consumed,
How he had my body inhumed.
Yes, dear friend, I am now his slave,
Of me remains nothing that can be saved.

 

[old.Galannor]

Even taking in account that you're a Swede, it's rather... good

 

[--xion--]

hey nice work keep em comming they are great

 

[lamus]