|
2006-02-25, 15:09
|
 |
Post-whore
|
|
Join Date: May 2005
Location: UK
Posts: 1,822
|
|
|
Horamund's Barrow
Under hills where the faeries haunt,
he laid the wand; buried it deep.
The music began an enchanting song,
and from within fell a feeling of fate.
Horamund sat small on the hill,
a throne of nature as the legends tell.
"Where great heaps lay"
the figure did speak
"will your treasure be, below the hyl,
thirteen nights will reveal your intent"
Thirteen moons did fall,
and the faerie hill did not move.
Not an inch did he feel,
nor a light did he see.
The twelfth hour of the darkest night,
and the figure did appear.
Horamund's ethereal throne;
he sat with a smile.
With a crack and a groan the barrow did shift,
the spirits from deep road wildly within.
Their firey stare felt throughout his bones.
Not a minute did pass before he was back,
the legend complete, a promise fullfilled.
Thirteen years in a moment of time with nothing to gain,
not a grain to his name.
The man once handsome and young now old and frail.
with a grimmace and a curse,
he left the barrow.
A harrowing tale of faeries and false legends.
its a folktale i've written, I would really appreciate some criticism, comments and suggestions.
__________________
R.I.P. Mieszko Talarczyk
1974 - 2004
Quote:
Quote:
|
Originally Posted by mrs. malicious
someone's a little behind 
|
Quote:
|
Originally Posted by BassBehemoth
I'll take you from behind!  |
|
|
