My Inky Folios: Reincarnate

Another poem - but this one has nothing to do with dying queens or tortured women (referring to my previous compositions). I tried to incorporate an aura of awe - the tale spoken of in the poem has grasped the imagination of the village-folk, and they're never tired of retelling it to travelers in the inns. I would love your feedback!


There is a tale woven
In the inns of old lands
And it speaks of men
The dauntless of their clans

Of times when suns
And moons failed to shine
And beasts that swallowed
Stars that rose high

There were seas, a deep blue
With caverns, crystal clear
And the songs of sirens
Brought sailors to their lair

The story tells of
Wolves that roamed homes
And giants, one-eyed
Turning gladiators to loam

Tombs that lay cracked
Lonesome in the hills
While raiders sold remnants 
Of kings and their frills

A peak that touched 
The sky in its mirth
And a pit that boiled 
With the rage of the earth

By old illusions
The fog was unwelcome
Until the day a queen rose
From the land seen seldom.


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