Tyre’Negoth:Two Poems of Devotion

“Enough of the filthy demons waiting to taste our flesh,

For we know they breed and live within the woods ahead,

Let us turn to fleeting hope before the endless battles

That shall consume our many following days begin,

My two young pages here, with gifted voice and tongue,

Shall put your minds at ease and speak a sonnet

Of love and good and joy, listen well, good gentlemen,

For the woods lurk near and I believe it be our last

Time to hear wonderful words before the dreaded silence

Begins, and when our tongues are freed again who knows.”

Thus the Romantic spoke with swift and calming tongue,

While his hand urged the first of his two pages to hurry.

The first, young and pale with bright red hair smiled

With worry seeing all the heroes eyes fixed on him,

Eron was his name, small of stature and with little vim

Or vigor, his meager and quiet nature had enticed many,

But it was his words that truly swayed the hearts of all.

“This sonnet I read now is of my own making, devoted

To a beautiful maiden from my home land, or whomever I,

For young men can be this way, adore at time of speaking”

He gave wink, but few laughed, for despite his meek form,

Young Eron was like many scoundrel young who serve base

Purpose with as many varied as they can find, even Eric

Blushed at the embarrasment of his page’s confession.

“Enough of me,” he saved, “now my poem desires speaking.”

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Rose love: soft petal, lilac fragrance,

Glist’ning in summer’s blessed sun,

All wilt before your radiant shine,

Yet strength but grows within me at your glow,

Cast way your dreaded thorns

And let your nectar flow to me so slowly,

Let me drink from your ivory cup,

Untouched and full with intoxication,

Let me pluck you from this paradise garden,

Plunge you deep into succulent waters,

House you in impenetrable glass shelter,

Where I may observe thee solely,

My wonderful honey-cup rose…..

But if you were just a rose!

Yet so much more is contained within you,

No rose haunts souls with piercing blue eyes,

Or can taste like strawberry delight,

No rose have I discovered that raptures me so

Much as you do with a single whim or fancy.

Thus lend your heart to me and give test,

I shall not let single petal rot away,

But keep you whole and pure and good,

Forsake thy place for security and pleasure,

A pleasure of succulent wonder,

Of absolute desire fin’ly quenched.

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While many blushed at the flowing tongue of Eron,

Good Dallimier, who gave his mind to humor and kindness,

Clapped the boy upon the back with jovial laughter,

“My boy! You perhaps be from the world beyond by palor,

For only angel speak with such seductively sweet tongue!

I no longer wonder what women see within you, boy,

They go blind from all the sugar-coated lies you tell,

And throw themselves with eyes clenched shut before you!”

All laughed as Eron took his turn to blush at the tease,

To be called ugly was worse than any insult given before,

And had not Phebos, Eric’s second page been quick of mind

Eron would have urged Dallimier to cut his life away,

“Silence, please, good sirs who march towards great goal,

Two poems were demanded and my fellow here finished,

If it pleases you, I’d like to read a poem that I adore,

My pen is lame, for my demeanor as you can easily see

Has been blessed to be of excellent and perfect quality!

Don’t think me vain, good sirs, I just speak as I’m told,

But to my poem, for you care little for my history,

This poem, as I began before, is not mine but Eric’s,

The good hero who I serve with honor, absolutely true

Is my loyalty and good, and thus I fear you all believe

That he is but a boy sent to slaughter, fear not this!

If he fights as well as he doth write, which I assure you

That he does and two times better by my many wager,

Then this poem shall put all your minds to gentle ease.

This poem speaks of his love who still dwells far away,

Waiting for him to return from this arduous task.”

Before Eric could protest his poem’s reading, for he had

No intentions of letting the other heroes hear his words,

Phebos’ tongue began to weave a poem of forgotten love.

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Beloved, beyond sight my pen speaks of thee,

For no distance trevailed can compromise my mind

And break thought of you, my radiant beloved.

A will I write thee here, for fear doth consume

All hope of my eyes resting upon thee again.

Thus I profess my love upon this page with truth,

Burned in mind with a thousand blissful torches

Sit your emerald eyes, facelessly smooth,

Marbles that swim with a million calming memories.

My eyes perceive light in altered state since

Losing my entire soul within your haunting orbs.

Yet blind I may be, yet other senses sharpen,

Long ago I tasted raspberry heaven in your kiss,

Yet my tongue still sits coated with it’s juice,

Soft and suttle it fills my mouth with longing,

While my ears hear your echoing laughter on wind,

Messages of hope that soothe me like the cool breeze.

If I taste your kiss no more, nor reward my eyes,

I pray these faint remembrances dwell for eternity.

But now to turn to death and my endurance,

Falter not in your joyous life, my radiant beloved.

In death I shall remain with you in every second,

I shall be the breeze that massages your sore skin,

The heat of the soft sun, the shadows cast by the moon,

So I may protect you with shadow arms through all life,

Know that I’m the rain that cleanses you in sad times,

Pouring down to feel soothe your skin and touch you again

While in times of joy, I’ll echo in your laughter,

I shall gather all the pain of every wound,

And fail so that you may always succeed,

And I shall wait for a million eternal moments,

To see you once more upon the other side, this I swear.

My radiant beloved, do not despair for my fallen soul,

Stay strong for I shall hold you so you never falter,

And if ever time comes that your heart feels weak,

Just whisper my name and you shall feel my touch,

For I’ll defy all things for you, my radiant beloved.

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